“Probably.And probably so was Becky when I met her on the landing below last night.”
“Well, we’ve certainly solved a few of our mysteries,” April said, as they backed into the old lady’s wing.“Though it doesn’t really help us with who attacked Edward.Unless it was the old lady.”
“I can see her escaping down the stairs and out the door,” Piers said.“I can even see her tottering her way toward the summer house with frequent rests, Edward in pursuit.She would certainly have no qualms about hitting him.But could she hit him that hard?If she could—an importantif—it would explain why Edward didn’t fight back.Who would, against an old lady?”
“Or he didn’t see her coming.She might have imagined he was an attacker following her.”
“Her nightgown should be dirty,” Piers said.“And there’s no blood on her walking stick.”Though both could have been changed by the servants or even cleaned.The stick was varnished so the blood wouldn’t necessarily have soaked in and stained.“You could be right.We know she lashes out.And yet...could she really have felled him with one blow?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her aim,” April pointed out.“Edward may have only one wound, but we don’t know that she only hit him once in the same place.”
“True, especially if she didn’t recognize him in the dark.”
“She is locked in, a virtual prisoner in one room, abandoned by her family, seeing no one but three servants when they remember about her or when she makes enough noise to disturb them.”
They were both silent as they made their thoughtful way downstairs and out into the fresh air.Piers hesitated about locking the door, but in the end decided it was probably for the old lady’s safety.And everyone else’s if she was the one who had attacked Edward.
“I still can’t see it,” he said abruptly.“Why was Edward not in livery?”
“Because he’d been in bed and got up when he heard Lady Temperley clattering about?”
“Remembering his necktie as well as his coat?If she was escaping, wouldn’t he have bolted after her in the bare minimum covering?Even his night shirt?”
“Yes,” she allowed.“But their meeting could have been accidental if Edward was about his own nefarious business, and she frightened at being followed.”She wrinkled her nose.“Although Lady Temperley does not seem to be very easily frightened.We are collecting too many suspects.Again.”
The front door was opened by Peggy, looking slightly harassed.
Piers ushered April inside before him, and said blandly, “Lady Temperley is requesting sustenance.”
“I know,” Peggy said.“The bell never stops—” She broke off with a gasp as she understood the implications behind Piers’s words.Her eyes widened in an odd mingling of alarm and resignation.“You saw her?”
“Indeed,” Piers said, touching his chin.
“The water jug?”Peggy asked sympathetically.
“Chamber pot.”
The girl snorted with laughter and then tried to cover her lapse with a cough.“I’m very sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be.It was empty.However, the situation won’t do.We shall speak to Mrs.Riley this afternoon.”
A large young man lumbered through the baize door at the back of the hall and halted as though frozen by the unexpected sight of them.
“Harold from the village,” April murmured helpfully.
Of course.The brother of one of Edward’s abandoned conquests.“Just the man I want to see,” Piers said, strolling toward him.The door to the office appeared to be open, so he gestured toward it.“Harold?I’m Lord Petteril.Shall we step in here for a moment?”
Harold’s worried frown cleared at Piers’s unthreatening tone.He seemed happy enough to follow Piers and April into the office, as though he had been there before.
“You live in the village, Harold?”Piers began, gesturing for the big lad to sit, while he perched on the edge of the oak desk.April took the comfortable chair behind it.
“Yes, sir.”
“With your family?”
“Yes, sir.My dad’s the blacksmith.”
“Will you be following in his footsteps?”
