Page 28 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

THOUGH EUDORA’S INTENTION had been to skip dinner, by the time the gong summoned out through Plumpton Hall, her stomach was rumbling. As her desire for food far outweighed her desire to hide from gossiping eyes, Eudora reluctantly made a stab at making herself presentable.

You can’t eat dignity, she sternly told herself as she pulled a hairbrush through her chestnut curls.

With most of the gowns purloined from Jane now returned, Eudora’s only choice was to don the dress she had worn the first fateful night of the party.

A night which now seemed like a distant memory.

Eudora gave a slightly bitter laugh as she recalled the excitement with which she had recounted the tale of the body in the woods to her sisters, little knowing that there would soon be another corpse to investigate.

Two bodies and no culprit; she was further away than ever from catching up with her sisters.

Aware that she was in danger of slipping back into melancholic self-pity, Eudora quickly finished her toilette. She was far too hungry to wallow in her own despair; experience had taught her that crying into one’s pillow was far more comfortable with a full stomach.

Eudora hurried from her room, allowing her stomach’s needs to take precedence over her fear of Mrs Canards.

Her journey to the dining room took her past the door of Ivo’s library, which was slightly ajar.

Eudora slowed as she heard voices from within. She came to a complete stop when she realised that one of those voices belonged to Robert.

“I hope you will forgive me, my lord, for keeping such information from you. Given that we now know Lord Albermay spent that night with Mable, I felt I could keep it from you no longer.”

“Are you certain they were bloodstains?” Ivo answered, his voice sounding hopeful to Eudora’s ear.

“You will have to speak with Lady Albermay’s maid, but I am almost certain.”

“Yes, I will speak with her. Thank you, Delaney.”

“My lord.”

With that, the conversation between the pair ended, and Eudora started at the sound of Robert’s approaching footsteps.

Feeling cowardly, she lifted her skirts and fled toward the dining room.

Shame tugged at her heart, not for her earlier rebuff of Lord Delaney’s proposal, but for dragging him into a murder investigation and leaving him in the lurch when it became too hard—she did not know how she’d ever look him in the eye again.

Unfortunately for Eudora, Jane’s seating arrangements for dinner meant that she had no choice but to meet the baron’s gaze.

“I swear that I did not engineer this,” Robert said as he slipped into the seat beside her.

“I would never suspect you of such things,” Eudora replied lightly before surreptitiously glancing toward her mama. It was not beyond reason to imagine Mrs Mifford had bribed a footman into switching the place names on the table.

Mrs Mifford caught her youngest daughter’s eye and delivered a wink so saucy that Eudora rather feared that her suspicions were correct.

“Did you speak with Lord Crabb?” Eudora ventured, though she was already aware that he had.

Robert nodded, his boyish face suddenly solemn.

“Thank you,” Eudora whispered, reaching a hand out to briefly squeeze his. “I should not have left you to bear such an onerous task alone.”

“I was glad to take the burden from your shoulders,” Lord Delaney answered stiffly.

Eudora felt her shoulders slump a little; the ease they had previously shared had all but vanished, replaced by a formality that felt decidedly cold.

A silence fell between them, filled slightly by the chatter of the other guests, who were far gayer than previous evenings.

“Mr Allen reckons I will be able to set off after breakfast.”

Mr Lowell sat a little to Eudora’s right and spoke across the table to the captain.

“You won’t get far in a carriage,” Captain Ledger advised, his gaze moving to the windows though it was too dark to see the snow-covered ground outside.

“Lord Crabb has been kind enough to offer me the lend of one of his mounts,” Mr Lowell replied. “I have urgent business in Plymouth to attend to. I will fetch the carriage when I return the horse.”

“I’ve half a mind to join you on your travels,” the captain answered wistfully, “It feels years since I last glimpsed the sea.”

Eudora did not have a chance to hear Mr Lowell’s reply, for her attention was caught by the entrance of Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling. Beside her, Lord Delaney gave a sharp intake of breath, indicating that he, too, had noted their arrival.

“Pay them no heed,” he whispered.

The old adage ‘easier said than done’ sprang to mind as the pair took a seat perilously close to Mrs Mifford. Eudora could not even imagine the hell that would break loose if her mother was informed of her engagement by her greatest enemy.

Thankfully, Mrs Canards did not appear at all inclined to engage Mrs Mifford in conversation and instead focused on her plate wearing an expression of great suffering. Mrs Wickling followed suit, her own face marred by a frown of displeasure.

Eudora said a silent prayer that Mrs Canards’ bitterness would hold out for all three courses and prevent her from congratulating Mrs Mifford on the happy news.

“She won’t say a word,” Robert whispered, his gaze following her own to the unhappy pair, “People like Mrs Canards only revel in bad news, not good.”

“True, my lord,” Eudora agreed, somewhat relieved to have her suspicions echoed back to her.

Once the last guests had trickled in, the footmen set about serving the first course with lightning speed. They were, Eudora guessed, as delighted as the guests that the party was finally nearing its end.

The atmosphere at the table was one of great joviality. Lord Albermay was in high spirits, even offering to accompany Mr Lowell on his journey the following day.

“You can leave me at the nearest tavern,” he chortled, “So long as you leave me anywhere that isn’t here.”

Eudora caught Lady Albermay’s eye, and the viscountess smiled, which seemed to say she, too, supported the idea of her stepson departing at daybreak.

Eudora attempted a smile in return, but it pained her. It felt duplicitous of her to smile at the viscountess when she knew that soon Ivo would be accusing her of murder.

As soon as the third course was finished and the plates whisked away by the servants, Jane stood up to speak.

“As our gathering will begin to break up tomorrow, might I suggest that the men forgo their brandies and join the ladies in the drawing room for tea?”

“You might suggest, but some might refuse,” Lord Albermay guffawed in response.

As no one was particularly upset to lose his company, the viscount was quickly ushered off to the library alone while the rest of the guests filed into the drawing room.

“Do you know,” Cecilia declared, once all the guests were seated and the tea poured, “Despite not one—but two!—murders, I’ve really enjoyed my time here. To our host and hostess for keeping us so well.”

Cecilia lifted her china cup in salute to Jane and Ivo, and the other guests followed suit.

“I have it on good authority that the second murder was nothing more than tomfoolery,” Ivo clarified quickly.

Cecilia’s face fell a little at this news, disappointed perhaps that her time had been spent at a party that was now only half as scandalous.

Another person appeared stricken to learn that Mable had not been killed by a serial murderer—Lady Albermay.

Eudora watched discreetly as the viscountess turned pale, her eyes nervously seeking out Captain Ledger. They shared a glance that could only be described as worried until Lady Albermay turned her face away.

Eudora’s stomach clenched with anxiety; the hope that Lady Albermay might be innocent slipped further and further away with every second that passed.

“Has Mable been found?” From her spot in the corner, Charlotte piped up, “Or are you putting your neck out on a limb by guessing that her disappearance was not as bloody an event as it first appeared?”

Despite the gravity of the question, Eudora had to stifle a laugh at the look of pure confusion that crossed the dowager duchess’ face as she tried to decipher the meaning of Charlotte’s words.

“I am not going out on a limb by suggesting it, Miss Charlotte,” Ivo replied with great patience. “Throughout the day, information came to light which suggested that Mable’s disappearance was self-inflicted.”

“What sort of information?” Mr Lowell asked before catching himself, “Beg your pardon, my lord. My curiosity made me forget my manners.”

Every lady in the room cast the handsome industrialist a look of admiration for his endearing humility. Highfield, Eudora noted with a smile, was not as admiring. In fact, Eudora thought she spotted him mouth ‘fishing for gossip’ behind his hand to Lord Delaney, though she couldn’t be certain.

“I’m afraid that I cannot share the details,” Ivo answered, his tone apologetic, “But suffice to say that I am wholly convinced of their truth.”

“I missed that,” Lord Percival lowered his ivory ear-trumpet so he could loudly ask Cecilia, “Who did he say the maid was tupping?”

“Hush, Wilbert,” Cecilia scolded before rolling her eyes at Northcott’s scandalised expression, “Baby George is in bed, dear. You needn’t worry that he’ll overhear and be corrupted—I know your feelings regarding my bad influence.”

Cecilia’s final remark was accompanied by a definite sniff of annoyance, and —in case anyone was uncertain of her feelings—she folded her arms across her chest and glared at her son.

“Really, mother,” Northcott flushed, “I am not that overbearing about his welfare. All I said was that I do not think it wise for Baby George to accompany you on your travels to India.”

“You want to take him to India?” Mary squeaked, staring in horror at her mother-in-law

“You’re leaving?” Mrs Mifford interrupted, barely able to conceal her glee.

Eudora felt a pang of pity for Jane, who held a tired hand to her brow. All poor Jane had wished for was the disastrous house party to end calmly, with a quiet evening of tea and chit-chat. Now, even that seemed likely to descend into chaos.

“Has anyone else made plans to depart tomorrow, or is it just Mr Lowell who will be leaving us?” Eudora asked the room, her voice so loud that every head turned to look at her.

So loud was her voice that even Mary and Mrs Mifford were stunned into silence by her slightly hysterical-sounding outburst.

“I may wait another day or so,” Lord Delaney answered, gallantly coming to her rescue, “The thaw was so great today that I believe the snow will be entirely melted by Sunday. Henchley, the groundskeeper, reckons the wind has taken a westerly turn.”

Eudora breathed a sigh of relief as, one by one, the guests latched on to the quintessentially English topic of weather. Small talk resumed in earnest, and Jane offered Eudora an appreciative look, which cheered Eudora.

She may not have as many accomplishments as her sisters, but she never let them down when they needed her.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling were the first to leave, muttering vaguely about plans to trek back to the village the following afternoon.

It was only after they had left that Eudora allowed the exhaustion that had followed her all evening to take hold.

She bid everyone good night and made for her room, glad for a few moments alone.

Lady Albermay was at the forefront of her mind as she made her way up the stairs. Would Ivo confront her tonight with his suspicions that it was she who had murdered her husband?

Despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, Eudora could still not believe that her friend was capable of murder. Oh, she well believed that the late Lord Albermay was a murderable sort of man, but Eudora was unable to attribute his violent end to her friend.

Despite having left the drawing room due to exhaustion, when Eudora reached her room, she realised that there was little chance that she would fall asleep before midnight.

Restless and agitated, she paced the rug before the fireplace, ruminating over every clue. She had just thrown herself, face-first, onto the bed and was about to give a howl of frustration when a knock came upon the door.

“Beg pardon, Miss Mifford,” the chambermaid said as she scampered into the room, “I’m sorry to interrupt.

I was tasked with laundering the dresses you borrowed from my mistress, and I’m afraid I’m having the devil of a time trying to remove one particular stain.

I just thought if I knew what it was, that I might have a better chance at lifting it.

I wouldn’t want the mistress to be upset with you. ”

Eudora stilled as she stared at the dress that was folded over the maid’s arm. It was the dress she had worn the night before, when Lord Delaney had pushed her against the mahogany paneled wall to kiss her. The back of the gown was covered in what might look—to the unassuming eye—like blood stains.

“It wasn’t her,” Eudora whispered, much to the maid’s amusement.

“I know it wasn’t my lady who made the stains,” the girl chuckled, “That’s why I’m asking you. I’ve tried it with lye and elbow grease, but whatever it is just won’t lift.”

“May I?” Eudora leaped from the bed to take the gown from the bemused girl.

“Be my guest,” she said, with a bobbed curtsy. "I hope you make a better fist of it than I did. And, you left your handkerchief in the pocket, I’ll leave it on your bureau.”

Eudora nodded dumbly in response, her attention fixed on the gown.

Whatever varnish had been used to stain the panelling in the hallway had obviously come away on the dress.

Her mind raced; the night she had overheard Lady Albermay and the captain arguing, the captain said they should ‘tell the truth’.

Eudora had thought he meant to tell the truth about the murder, but now—with her own tumble-stained gown in hand—she realised that he had simply wanted to reveal their love affair.

“Lud,” she whispered before lifting the hem of her skirts to run to Lady Albermay’s defence.