This would be Whitworth’s first murder investigation. He’d not been called to do any in his position as coroner since there hadn’t been any suspicious deaths in the surrounding area. “What of a magistrate?” Damon asked.
“He is not needed,” Whitworth stated as he came to his feet. “Any violent death becomes the responsibility of the coroner to investigate. If we find any reliable witnesses, I will hold an inquest, but I first must examine the bodies and the area, then speak with your servants.”
“Very well,” Damon mumbled before he exited his mother’s special garden—her witch’s garden—filled with all manner of plants, both safe and deadly, and used for teas, soaps, lotions, sachets, and spells.
His father had just been coming from the manor and Damon tried to keep him from entering.
Damon knew that his brother and sister-in-law were dead, but he didn’t know why and didn’t want his father to see them that way. Though, it was impossible to shield his family because the Marquess of Chandos had demanded to see his eldest son and had stormed into the garden but stopped when Whitworth asked him to. He and Damon had then left and returned to the manor. Both were shaken, but his father hadn’t hesitated in issuing orders to search the estate and calling the rest of the family together to be assured of their safety. They’d then summoned May because she had discovered the bodies.
Unfortunately, she had no information to assist them in catching who had done this.
“You may go, May,” his father said.
The maid slid out of her seat and hastened from the room, nearly colliding with Whitworth who was just joining them.
“It was murder by an intruder,” Whitworth announced as he came into the library.
“Of course, it was.” Damon had already assumed as much.
“I will be honest. At first, the scenario presented differently.”
Damon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I thought perhaps Lady Bentford had struck Lord Bentford on the back of the head to kill him and then ate theAtropa Bella-donnaberries to end her own life.”
“My daughter-in-law would never do such a thing,” his father raged. “I cannot believe you would suggest such.”
Neither could Damon.
“The bloody stone was beside her,” Whitworth claimed as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. “But, given her hands were tied behind her back, she could not have killed herself.”
“Her hands were tied?” Jax asked in alarm.
“Yes, odd that. Therefore, I assume there were two culprits at least,” Whitworth suggested. “One to strike Lord Bentford, and another to subdue Lady Bentford. He then forced the berries into her mouth. I’ve no idea how many she was forced to eat, but there were still some in her mouth.”
Damon finally took a drink of his brandy, welcoming the burn and warmth and hoped that it would numb him to these events.
“There is also the possibility that the murderer was already with Lady Bentford when Lord Bentford stumbled upon them, and that could be the reason he’d been killed. I am not certain the order of events.”
They might never know unless they were able to find the murderers. Damon also had full confidence that if anyone could uncover the truth of the matter it was Whitworth. He’d always had an analytical mind, which was the reason he’d been drawn to medicine.
“What I didn’t understand was why tie Lady Bentford’s hands,” Whitworth continued. “She is dainty and would have easily been overpowered.”
Damon looked to his father and their eyes met. Without the use of her hands, Rhea was unable to protect herself. They had taken her power.
“A message,” their butler announced as he delivered it to Damon’s father. After breaking the seal, his father unfolded the parchment. As he read, the marquess lost all color and the document slipped from his hands.
Damon picked it up and Jax leaned over, which Damon assumed was to read it as well. He took a deep breath and hoped it didn’t contain more unsettling news.
The loss of your son was an unfortunate circumstance. However, Viscount Bentford, should have realized the dangers that marrying a witch may hold.
Thankfully, your granddaughters did not inherit the same wickedness, sin and evil from their mother, and England is now free of one more witch.
Damon’s blood ran cold. How dare they accuse his sister-in-law of wickedness and evil when they had intentionally committed murder!
“Is there something I should know?” Whitworth asked.
Damon stared at his father, waiting for how he chose to answer the question.
