“What for? We all heard what Groby said at The Black Horse,” Rupert exclaimed.
“He’s right,” Magistrate Hunt said. “I see no need for an investigation when I have two witnesses here who heard the man admit that he planned on carving up Mr. Otis with his knife.”
In that moment, the colonel left the magistrate’s men to their task and strode toward them. “I say, what’s going on? I just saw a dead man being carted away on a stretcher.”
“That’s right, Colonel,” Rupert said. “Our friend George Otis was murdered—slaughtered most savagely with his heart ripped from his chest.”
“I knew it!” Colonel Kendall said in a triumphant tone. “Those insubordinates refused to tell me anything, but I’m no fool. Heart ripped from his chest, you say? How ghastly! Who would do such a thing?”
“Come with me, and I’ll tell you all about it over a glass of brandy.” Nate interjected, placing a gentle hand on the colonel’s back and steering him away before Rupert could reply.
“Well, it’s a little early, but I don’t mind if I do—considering the circumstance, I mean,” Bridget heard the colonel say as he walked off with Nate.
“Please, gentlemen,” Bridget said when Nate and the colonel were out of earshot. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions. Mr. Groby was inebriated. People say all sorts when they’ve had too much. It’s not proof.” She tried to reason with the men.
“It’s proof enough for me,” Rupert said. “I know he murdered George.”
“I agree,” Magistrate Hunt said. “With all due respect, Miss De Lacey, the events of last summer do not make you a magistrate. You must leave the investigating and the arresting to me.”
“May we come back to the village with you?” Rupert asked the magistrate. “We owe it to George to see that brute arrested and locked away.”
Magistrate Hunt nodded. “Very well. I suppose you deserve that much. Now, Miss De Lacey, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.” He gave a slight bow and then strode into the field of daffodils, where he bent to pick up the rock that had been used to kill George, tucking it under his arm.
Charlie stepped forward to follow the magistrate, but Rupert pulled him back. “When the magistrate is in with Dr. Elias, we’ll spread the word about what Groby has done. I wager the whole town will want to see him locked up after they find out what he did to George. I’ll not let that butcher escape.”
“No!” Bridget cried, alarmed. “Mr. Groby has little ones. You’ll frighten them and his wife to death.”
But Rupert and Charlie paid her no heed and raced after the magistrate.
Good heavens!Bridget’s chest tightened as her panic rose.I need to get to Braithwaite and warn Alice Groby that a mob is about to descend on her home.
*
“Is it true?”Mrs. Jane Harley almost collided with Bridget as she intercepted her flight to the kitchen. She wanted to place Bijou safely with Cook before she went to Braithwaite. “Has there been another murder?”
Bridget paused to catch her breath. Jane had come to Villa De Lacey in the summer with her husband and, despite having witnessed the terrible summer murders, had elected to stay for an extended period rather than return to London, where they had lived with her husband’s bully of an aunt, Lady Darby. Jane had changed immensely in the months she’d been at Villa De Lacey. She’d arrived as an exceedingly pale, frail, and downtrodden woman who’d been driven to desperate measures by the vile aunt. But she’d since transformed into a more robust woman with a much healthier complexion and a zest for life. Her light brown curls were shinier, and her downturned blue eyes brighter. Despite a rocky start to their relationship, Jane and Bridget had become fast friends.
“Well?” Jane said. “Has there been another murder?”
Bridget chewed her lower lip. Nate had said to inform all the guests at the same time. She glanced at the villa.But where is Nate? And who’d told Jane about the murder?“What makes you say that?” she asked, trying to play it safe.
“Colonel Kendall. He burst into the breakfast room andannounced it to everyone. He said a man lay dead among the daffodils with his heart ripped out of his chest. I thought perhaps it was some type of gruesome game. He’s that sort, you know. The kind who dreams of becoming embroiled in a real-life murder. He’s up there now, trying to convince everyone to follow him outside.”
Bridget’s stomach dropped. Nate must have let the colonel out of his sight—or lost control of him somehow. No, that wasn’t possible. Nate was too clever and capable for that. Something must have distracted him—something more important than the colonel. But what?
“Bridget!” Jane’s tone grew urgent. “You’re starting to scare me. Is someone dead? If so, who is it?”
Bridget swallowed. She loathed to speak the truth out loud because it all still seemed like a terrible dream that she hoped would disappear. She eyed Jane’s cheerful peach-colored spring dress and felt her chest tighten. If only she could wake up and realize all was right at Villa De Lacey again.
Just then, a group of guests led by the colonel exited the villa. Jane’s husband, Mr. Harley, was among them. His bright copper hair made him easy to spot.
“Oh no!” Bridget said. “This cannot happen. Nate was supposed to contain him.”
“No one can contain the colonel,” Jane said.
Mr. Harley spotted them and broke from the crowd. He came to them and said, “What on earth is going on? The colonel says someone has been murdered.”
The guests streamed past Bridget, Jane, and Mr. Harley as they followed Colonel Kendall, his walking stick raised like he was once again leading a platoon of soldiers. Bijou squirmed in her arms and gave a bark. He wanted to join in the excitement. Bridget petted him to be quiet.
