“I ask,” April said.
Piers cast the notebook onto April’s lap.“I think we have to change our plan.Even if I’m right, there is no proof if Edward won’t make a complaint, and I don’t believe he will.Pretending Edward is still asleep won’t protect him forever, and in any case, you’re right.Unchecked, violent impulses tend to get worse.If Edward wants to remain at risk, then we might as well make use of him.”
“As what?”April demanded.
Piers’s eyes gleamed.“Bait.”
***
APRIL WAS IN THE GAMESroom at the back of the house, playing an unexpectedly hilarious bout of billiards with Claudia and Meg—they were all a little hazy as to the rules, and only April had ever played before, with Piers—when Piers himself sauntered in.
“Thought you’d like to know,” he said, watching critically as April bent over the table to line up her shot.“Edward woke up.”
Amongst the exclamations of surprise and relief, April didn’t mind missing her perfect shot, particularly not for a good cause.
“What did he say?”Meg asked.
“Who hit him?”Claudia demanded.
Piers spread his hands.“He says he didn’t see, that someone crept up behind him in the dark.But he seems no more upset than if he’d had his cork-drawn in a tavern brawl.Fosterson thinks he’ll recover fully and has gone down to the village to consult with Dr.Forbes, the local man.”
And to spread the word about Edward’s recovery.Stewart had been dispatched to the inn upon the same errand, in case the servants didn’t gossip fast enough.
“And so all your puzzling has come to naught,” Claudia teased.
“I’d rather that than be contending with murder,” Piers said.“As it is, I shall regard it as a happy ending.At least until Edward tells us what he’s hiding.”
“Is he likely to?”April asked.
“Oh yes,” Piers said definitely.“He’s already torn between his own loyalties.”
Footsteps padded surreptitiously on toward the baize door to the servants’ hall.Someone had overheard.Knowing Piers, he had timed it that way.
***
AS DARKNESS BEGAN TOfall, Edward’s attacker trained a spy glass on the drawing room of Temper House.From the rise, the interior of the room was quite clear.Several people had gathered there, drinking sherry before dinner, including old Lady Temperley in her ancient shawls and exquisite lace cap.
The Temperleys had tried to hide her presence—unnatural fools—but mere tenants appeared to have more decent feeling, adopting her into their party although she was old and grumpy and they were mostly young with their own lives and interests.Well, they need never know of the real tragedy.They would never be able to tell that Edward had not simply had a relapse and died.Only then would his killer be safe.
A few minutes more.Just a few minutes more.
It did not take long to hurry through the gathering shadows to the back of the house and the kitchen door, which was always unlocked until dinner had been cleared away.This was when the kitchen was at its most chaotic, with Mrs.Riley dementedly cooking and arranging and ignoring everything and everyone else.The servants ran in and out, fetching and carrying and receiving, but there would be just the right moment.It was just a matter of waiting and acting swiftly.
More swiftly than expected, a line of servants marched out laden with trays and serving dishes, leaving only Mrs.Riley, fleeing to the stove, her back to the door, the window, and most of the way to the housekeeper’s room.
It was the work of mere moments.No one remonstrated or exclaimed in surprise.The only sounds were the scrape of the cook’s spoon on the pot bottom and the crashing of the oven door as she opened it one handed and reached for the oven gloves.
The sitting room was attained with no more trouble than a fast-beating heart.Only a few steps to the inner door, which pushed open silently.
The housekeeper’s bedchamber was not large.A bed, a night table, a small dressing table and matching wardrobe.No nurse, no visitor, just the patient himself.
Oh God, why did he have to wake at all?Stupid, weakening thought that had to be overcome.In the pale glow of a single low lamp, Edward lay asleep, the covers pulled up so that he was barely visible.All that could be seen was the bandage around his head.
That made it easier.Who could bring themselves to kill while looking into a man’s eyes?Besides which, wrestling with him would have risked noise.Though Edward could still wake...
It had to be quick and firm.There could be no hesitating, or everything would collapse.Why then, did it feel so much more wrong than lashing out on a dark, silent night with only Edward’s laughter ringing in the air?But it had to be done.This sense of falling into a self-made pit of despair must be overthrown.
And so, in one oft-practiced, smooth action, the pillow was snatched from beneath Edward’s head and crushed over his face.
