“Is Lottie asleep?” Ellen asked when he released her.
“She is and was exhausted. She will be pleased to see you all tomorrow, as she has mentioned your names constantly.”
“We missed you all,” Ellen said. “Did you have a wonderful time?”
“Yes, it was lovely, but we were ready to come home to you lot.” He had a deep voice, a voice that had told her the world would once again be set to rights soon, the night she’d lay in his arms weeping for the loss of her father.
“Hello, Aunt Ivy.” Ellen was wrapped in a sweet-smelling hug. Small like Ellen, Ivy embraced like a much larger person. She held on until she was ready to let you go.
“Hello, my darling Ellen. How are you?” She gripped her shoulder and stared intently at her.
“I am well, thank you.”
Ivy was the exact opposite of her husband in appearances. Small and pale, but that was where the differences stopped. They both loved each other openly and included Ellen and her siblings in that love, along with Lottie, their two-year-old daughter, who was doted on by her older cousins. Not once had they doubted that having the Nightingale siblings thrust upon them had been anything but a wonderful thing.
Of course, Leo and Alex were old enough to set off on their own, but they too had been reeling from their father’s death. Uncle Bram had insisted they stay together, and together they’d stayed. Although lately they’d both been murmuring about moving out.
Thinking about not having her brothers close saddened Ellen, but she also knew they needed to find their independence. It had taken all the siblings time to heal, but now they were, they were ready to begin living.
“I’m not sure you are well, dear, but I know you will all tell us what is bothering you, given time and cake.”
Bud rushed off to get more food and tea, even though the hour was well past midnight now.
“Mungo. Thank you for keeping an eye on this rabble.” Bram greeted his old friend.
“As you can imagine, it was not without its trials.”
“Harsh but true,” Alex said.
“We decided to push on and not stop on the road as we missed you all,” Uncle Bram said. “Now tell us what happened to make you all tense and anxious. Bud said something had upset you, Ellen.”
Uncle Bram sat beside Ivy. He then took her hand and trapped it beneath his on his lap. They were always touching, and Ellen now knew this was what she wanted one day. She’d have never had that with her ex-fiancé, who had broken their engagement swiftly after her father had killed himself.
The Nightingales and Mungo settled in the other seats.
“Ellen will tell the story,” Leo said. “She lived it.”
She recounted everything, from the night she’d entered Nicholson’s bookshop, right up to encountering Detective Inspector Fletcher and Constable Plummy.
“How sad. George was a wonderful man,” Aunt Ivy said.
“He was,” her husband agreed. “Which knife was it, Ellen?” Uncle Bram asked.
“The intricate handled one you got in Mongolia,” Mungo said.
“Good lord, really? That was stolen about a year ago.”
“What?” Leo and Ellen said.
“I did not want to worry you. But I had it on me one night. You know how I always like to carry a weapon that I’ve brought home with me from my travels—”
“How is it I am not aware of this?” Aunt Ivy demanded.
“I had no wish to worry any of you. A man confronted me demanding money. I disarmed him, but it was as I was walking home, I checked and found my knife gone.”
“So, whoever stole it murdered George?” Alex said.
“Or he sold it and another did,” Uncle Bram said. “I understand why you did what you did, Ellen, and I’m grateful to you, but we have tampered with evidence,” he said. “And now we must come clean to this detective.”
