“What should we tell the others?” she wondered.
“That is for you to decide. As his closest relative here, I think that decision belongs to you. But if I may make a suggestion, I would tell the others that he is dead.”
“Why?”
“Because that is what he feared, and someone tried to kill him,” he told her.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.” She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. She didn’t believe in ghosts, and yet… The woman she’d seen had been real. She knew it.
“Nor do I. But someone may have tried to dress up as one and scare him, or if that didn’t work, club him to death.” He looked at her. “Are you all right?”
“A little shaken, but I’m okay. You think my telling the others he is dead will put whoever did it at ease and give something away?”
“Yes. Exactly that. What say you?” he asked.
“All right. Are you sure about this? What if the servants can’t be trusted?” She glanced at the door.
“He has an agreement for them to work for him this weekend. It’s unlikely one of them would want to kill their employer, especially since I doubt he’s paid them yet. Otherwise, we’d have to post a guard in the room and wait for whoeverit was to try to kill him again. I’m not sure he would survive another attempt on his life.” He glanced at her Uncle Edwin, lying in bed.
“Let us go.” Together, they left the room, and Mr. Fairbanks instructed a maidservant to stay in there with him, with another posted outside the door, with strict instructions to only let Violet inside. “Now no one is getting in without your say-so,” he said.
They went downstairs to the main library, where the other guests sat, huddled on the sofas and chairs. Mrs. Hemlock kept running her hand down her thigh, as if to wipe away sweat. Miss Eagle nibbled her fingernails, whilst her maidservant, Miss Hawkins, sat in a corner with her knitting, but she was making a ruin of the design, with yarn going everywhere.
The fire roared in the fireplace, having been stoked to life by one of the party, and Mr. Ludlow was pouring drinks. At their entrance, he said, “Miss Thorn, Mr. Fairbanks. How is Mr. Griffin?
Violet cast her eyes down. “I fear my uncle has passed.”
There was a collective sigh in the room, and the wishes of condolence came in. Violet nodded and took a chair, touching her eyes with a handkerchief. Her hands trembled as she rested her hands on her knees and looked around the room. “Thank you. It appears my uncle went to the attic and had an accident. I think he must have tripped and fell, hurting himself.”
“What a tragedy,” Miss Eagle said, her eyes serious. Her maid sat quietly.
Mrs. Hemlock shook her head. Mr. Ludlow said, “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”
Mrs. Hemlock snorted. “Oh, please, don’t pretend like you actually liked the fellow. And once he revealed there was money to be had, you probably plotted from that moment on how to kill him. You were likely jealous that he was so rich and benevolent,he didn’t even need the money from his little bet, but I bet all that money would help you. I bet you’re in debt.”
Mr. Ludlow glared at her. “I wonder, how did your husband die, Mrs. Hemlock? Did you poison him?”
“Hah. No. But never mind me. I think you killed Mr. Griffin. He was just a source of money to you, wasn’t he? We all knew it. You made that very clear when you asked earlier what would happen if anything happened to the rest of us. Now you’re probably wondering if you’ll still get your money.”
Violet cleared her throat. “These little games have gone far enough. One of the people in this room killed my uncle.” She looked at each of them in turn. “And what’s more, I know how they did it.”
Mrs. Hemlock stared. Mr. Fairbanks’s mouth hung open, whilst Miss Eagle had frozen in her seat. Mr. Ludlow had paused, and the decanter of port he held was beginning to hang dangerously low.
Violet swallowed. “When we came here, my uncle told us all of a little bet he’d made with his friend at their club. What he didn’t share is that he feared for his life. From one of you.”
The others all shot each other darting little looks. Violet said, “He’s been receiving threatening notes for weeks now and has felt like someone had been watching him. We’ve played around with the idea of the ghost of the previous owner’s lover, and I’d even thought I’d seen her.”
Miss Eagle uttered a noise in her throat. “I knew it. She is stalking the halls. Thereisa ghost.”
Mrs. Hemlock shot her a dirty look. “I saw the woman too, as did Miss Thorn. But it’s clear it is a real person. Ghosts simply don’t exist.”
“I almost fell victim to it,” Violet said. “When we had split off into pairs, my uncle and I kept together, but we becameseparated. When I went to look for him, a suit of armor fell in front of me and scared me. I’m surprised none of you heard it.”
The others looked at each other.
“We heard a noise but didn’t investigate. But we didn’t stay together the whole time,” Mrs. Hemlock said, glancing at Mr. Ludlow. “So who could have done it? And don’t say it was a ghost.”
Violet shook her head. “It wasn’t. It was a trick. The suit was attached to a piece of string. I know who did that prank.”
