In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandmother used to say. She hurried across the floor and pulled the door open. The watery light streaming in from the store room’s windows gave a dim illumination to the pantry. More food stuffs were stocked along two walls. The third wall held more interesting items.
Katherine ran her fingers along several small envelopes. Dover’s Powder was written on one of them. Calomel on another. She grimaced. She remembered having to take that purgative. There were several glass bottles also, with labels fromlaudanum to tincture of rhubarb. Lord Perrin’s collection of home remedies was extensive.
Had Lord Havenstone come downstairs for this? She’d learned just how many medicines could be deadly if given in too large a dose. And if Havenstone had come here, did that mean someone else was in danger?
She placed a tin of sulfur powder back on the shelf and exited, closing the door tightly behind her. She met one maid on her way back upstairs, but simply nodded and smiled and kept on her way. She went back to the sitting room, hoping to find that Lady Mary had joined them. Katherine didn’t know what to think of Havenstone sneaking about. It might mean nothing other than he suffered from indigestion and didn’t have a remedy in his personal travel case of medicines.
But it might mean something. She felt sure Lady Mary would know which category to put his actions under. But the older woman still hadn’t left her room. Mr. Withers had joined her father and Mr. Evans in conversation, each man boasting of one time or another when a disagreement of theirs had turned to fisticuffs and he had emerged the victor.
Katherine rubbed her arm. She didn’t want to admire Mr. Evans for simply thrashing a man who had almost hurt her, but she couldn’t deny it did funny things to her belly. Besides, Mr. Taylor had deserved it.
Before Miss Walker could make eye contact and invite her to join in another game, Katherine crossed to the casement doors that led to the terrace and gazed out.
This rain didn’t seem to be coming down hard enough to close the roads, and she hoped for all their sakes that the magistrate wouldn’t be further delayed. The constable had gone home after relaying his message, and the house felt vulnerable without someone of authority watching over it.
Southey trotted over to her. He wagged his tail, his whole rear end swaying with the movement, as she bent to pat him. He nudged at the door with his nose and whined.
She opened the door to let him out. Instead of running to the garden to do his business as was his wont, the terrier raced to the corner of the terrace, pawing at something that lay behind a large potted plant.
Katherine’s eyebrows drew together.
“Close the door,” a woman called.
Katherine drew her shawl more tightly about her shoulders but ignored the order. She took a step outside, staying under the small covered section. She tilted her head. It didn’t make sense. Why would a boot be laying there like that?
She took another step, her mind refusing to acknowledge what her eyes saw. Because that boot was attached to a leg, and the farther she walked, the more of the body she saw.
She came abreast of the potted lily of the valley, blinking rapidly.
Southey yipped and pranced about, looking for all the world like he’d just won a game of hide-and-go-seek and wanted a reward. She bent and picked him up, absent-mindedly scratching behind his ear, her eyes never leaving the body.
She’d told Lady Mary and Mr. Evans that he hadn’t killed Perrin, and now she had proof that she was right. Because Mr. Taylor lay at her feet with a large knife sticking from his chest, his eyes open and vacant.
Mr. Taylor might have deserved many things, but he hadn’t deserved this.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lady Mary
This time, therewas blood. A lot of it. There was no question in my mind that Mr. Taylor had died from the knife in his chest.
I angled my head and inched forward. It looked to be one of the dinner knives. Not that we’d needed such a sharp blade since Cook Clem had begun preparing our meals for us. The roast lamb we’d eaten last night had practically fallen from the bone.
A footman stood near the body, holding an oil lamp in one hand. Dusk was coming on, but from the way he wrapped his palm around the glass cover, I figured he wanted the lamp more for warmth than light. He cleared his throat as I neared.
I pressed my lips flat. I wasn’t planning on touching the body, although now that I thought of it, I wouldn’t mind checking the man’s pockets. But I could hardly complain about the footman’s vigilance. After all, I had been the one to tell him to stand guard.
“Lady Mary.” Mr. Ryder stepped out onto the terrace, a slight frown creasing his face. The last of the sun’s light turned the white hair at his temples a soft honey. “The constable has arrived.”
Constable Adams followed him out, wearing an even larger frown. “Has returned, is more like. I was just sitting down to a spot of tea when I got the message. Now I don’t know if I’ll even get back home for supper.”
“There’s plenty to eat here.” I stepped back as the constable knelt beside Mr. Taylor’s form. “You will be fed.”
Ryder extended his hand back toward the sitting room. “Perhaps we should leave the constable to his work.” The man couldn’t keep the judgment from his voice. Ever the moralizer.
I ignored him and leaned on my walking stick to watch Constable Adams. I’d decided to keep a cane with me even indoors. With a killer among us, one never knew when it might come in handy. “That’s one of the dinner knives,” I informed the constable. “Miss Smith found his body about half past three. No one saw Mr. Taylor alive since he went up to his rooms around noon.”
Constable Adams raised an eyebrow.
