Page 33 of Death at a Highland Wedding (Rip Through Time #4)

THIRTY-THREE

“The poor woman is wrong,” Isla whispers when Mrs. Hall leaves us alone. “Mr. Müller did do something to Lenore. That is why Lenore quit her position and fell into a state of melancholia.”

“That’s one explanation,” I say as I lower myself behind the desk. “But if he did that, would she not have mentioned it? For the sake of the other maids?”

“Perhaps she did not feel the other maids were in danger. And while Mrs. Hall might believe her daughter would tell her, that is not always the case.” She plucks at her bodice, as if adjusting it. “I never told anyone about the problems in my marriage. Even my mother, with whom I am extremely close.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

When Isla colors, I hurry on. “That’s not an accusation. I think I know the answer, which means this would be a very different situation.”

She hesitates and then nods. “I see your point. I did not tell my mother because she could not help. Even in Scotland, it is exceptionally difficult to end a marriage. If I feared for my life, I would have done anything to escape. But it was not as bad as that.”

She looks over at me, a wan smile playing on her lips. “I heard that noise you made. You would like to point out that any mistreatment is bad, but you also understand what I mean. My mother could not help me, and I would not put her in that untenable position—knowing I am miserable and she cannot help. Then our father died and Duncan took over the family finances, and he could assist me, having seen enough to realize I needed it.”

She pauses. “Which has nothing to do with the current situation except that you are correct about it being different. However much I desperately needed my mother’s guidance, I hid my unhappiness from her because she could not help. Lenore was not bound to Mr. Müller. Had she told Mrs. Hall, I do not doubt the woman would have found a way to convey it to Archie, who would not have stood for it.”

“I agree.”

“So you do not think Mr. Müller molested Lenore?”

“Not… necessarily.” I rise. “But I’m going to need to ask Mrs. Hall something else before I say more.”

I speak to Mrs. Hall briefly and get the answer I expected. Then I find McCreadie and Gray outside, still deep in conversation. Seeing that, I pause, but they catch sight of me and wave me over.

“First,” McCreadie says, “I absolutely did not get Violet with child. I believe I can speak of such things with you as if you were a man.”

“Uh…” I say.

Gray arches a brow.

McCreadie gives us both a hard look. “You know what I mean. The sensibilities of your time mean I do not need to act as if I am an unspoiled flower of male bachelorhood waiting to discover the joys of the marriage bed.”

I sputter a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think many single men fit that description. And probably fewer women than Victorians would like to think. But yes, I do not expect you to be a virgin.”

“Which I am not. However, I also would never have had premarital relations with Violet. That is far too great a risk to her reputation. As we were not in love and I was free to do as I wished before marriage…” He clears his throat. “There was no chance we would get carried away while courting. Also, while I liked Violet, I did not feel that way about her.”

“Got it, and you understand we needed to ask, just in case.”

“I do, and I am horrified to think that someone did that to Violet, that he left her with child.” He lowers his voice even more. “It does explain a great deal. While we had long been promised by our parents, no one seemed in any rush to fulfill the obligation. I was only twenty-one, barely out of school, a new police officer. Then, suddenly, things were moving very quickly, and I was told I would be wed within the year, with an increased dowry, supposedly because of my reduced expectations as a policeman.”

“Do you think Violet could have already been pregnant?” Gray asks. Then he pauses. “No, the timing would not work.”

“It would not. Her parents were in a hurry to solidify the engagement, but the marriage was still six months away. She could not have been pregnant. Also, when I reflected further, I recalled that her parents began to push shortly after she returned from a long sojourn abroad.”

“Violet went abroad?”

“Visiting a cousin on the Continent. She was gone for about five months.”

“I forgot about that,” Gray murmurs.

I swear under my breath. “She got pregnant, was whisked off to have the baby, and then her parents wanted her married as soon as possible. Before you had time to discover why she went abroad.”

“I cannot imagine I would discover it. They were only making sure the wedding happened.”

“Marrying her to the guy she was supposed to marry. Because if you backed out, things would get tricky.”

“Yes. Duncan says there are marks on her stomach showing a pregnancy, but I was inexperienced enough that I would not have thought it odd if she wished to keep the lights out and her nightgown on.”

“If you didn’t marry her, then her parents would also have a broken engagement to contend with. That would have made people look closer. Too close.”

His hands clench and unclench. “Which is exactly what I inadvertently subjected her to. I am horrified and shamed, and I cannot even properly apologize because I should not know about the pregnancy.”

“Unless it has to come out,” I say. “But if it doesn’t, then it shouldn’t. My sense is that Violet’s melancholy wasn’t because you ended the engagement as much as a combination of events. The pregnancy, the shame of that, and the fact it meant her marital prospects were limited to the guy she’d been promised to.”

“Isla thinks I should still speak to her. Apologize and admit that I did not understand how the broken engagement would affect her.”

There’s an inflection in his voice that adds a question to the statement. He’s hoping Gray and I will disagree with Isla. No one likes to apologize, even when they are sorry. There’s always the fear of not finding the right words, of making things worse.

Gray and I only nod, and McCreadie deflates, but bounces back with a wry smile. “I really should. I have told myself that I already apologized, but that was for the act, not the consequences. I will do that.”

“I have news, too,” I say. “I spoke to Mrs. Hall. The ring and hair ribbon are definitely Lenore’s, and she did go by Nori when she was young. Putting that aside temporarily, I have a question.” I look at McCreadie and Gray. “I overheard Ezra saying he’d been up here more often than Archie. Did he come up on his own?”

McCreadie nods. “Archie was occupied with the whisky business, and I believe there was some arrangement for Ezra to manage his affairs here. Check on the running of the estate while enjoying a holiday, as his current job obligations were not onerous.”

“Was it multiple trips? One extended trip?”

McCreadie looks at Gray, who says, “My understanding was that it was two or three visits of a fortnight apiece. Ezra was, in effect, managing the estate. I believe when Hugh says it was an arrangement, he means that Archie paid him for it. As I understand it, they were discussing the possibility of Ezra doing that on a permanent basis, if the whisky business succeeded as well as it seems poised to do.”

“If Archie made enough on whisky, he’d hire Ezra to work here and manage the estate in his absence.”

McCreadie nods. “It would also allow Fiona to enjoy the estate while Archie was busy. Ezra was glad that Fiona seemed to like the place and suggested to Archie that she could come up more often. Naturally, Ezra would need to move to one of the cottages while she was here, for propriety’s sake, but with the staff on site, it would be acceptable.”

“Is there any way of knowing when Ezra was here?” I ask.

“I believe the last time was this spring? Early May? Perhaps late April?” He pauses, and then his eyes narrow. “This is not idle conversation. What are you thinking?”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded note from the coach.

“‘He deserved it for what he did to Nora,’” I read aloud. “We believe the last word is ‘Nori,’ not ‘Nora.’ Lenore Hall, who quit her position as maid in early May, after which her mother says she fell into a state of melancholy.”

McCreadie’s expression goes grave. “Because she had been molested by Mr. Müller.”

“That’s the obvious conclusion, but we managed to broach the possibility, and Mrs. Hall didn’t think it was likely.” I lift a hand. “Yes, she’s Lenore’s mother and might not know, but Isla and I have discussed this. We don’t think that’s the case. Her mother believed she was courting a young man shortly before that, and she suspects the end of that courtship was the cause of both Lenore quitting her job and becoming depressed.”

“All right.”

“After Isla and I spoke to Mrs. Hall, I went back to ask her one more question. When Duncan and I went to see Dr. Rendall, a young boy thought it was Archie who died. That made it seem that the note”—I wave it—“referred to Archie. He deserved his death for what he did. But we had to do cartwheels to apply that to Archie. It’s possible someone would blame him for a girl—Nora or Lenore—being molested on his estate. But when I went back to speak to Mrs. Hall, I asked whether villagers thought Archie was the victim. She says no, most people realized Ezra was the one who died. Clearly the boy we spoke to misheard the message, but are we sure the person who wrote this note also misheard?”

“I… do not understand,” McCreadie says slowly. “You believe Ezra molested Lenore?” He rubs his mouth and shakes his head. “That sounds as if I cannot believe someone I know would do such a thing. I should not say that.”

“I don’t think Ezra molested Lenore,” I say. “Her mother believed she had a sweetheart. Someone she didn’t want to tell her mother about, but who made her very happy.”

“Ezra,” McCreadie says, exhaling the name.

I nod. “Maybe they had a fling. Maybe it was just a flirtation. Hell, maybe it was an infatuation and she mistook his kindness for encouragement. I need to get precise dates from Archie, but I have a feeling, when I do, the end of Ezra’s last visit will align with Lenore quitting her position.”

“She had a romantic disappointment,” McCreadie murmurs. “If there was an affair or a flirtation, Ezra ended it. If it was only an infatuation, he told her he did not reciprocate.”

“Which means the ring and hair ribbon could be a red herring. Or they could be something else, if there was more than an infatuation and Müller knew of it.”

“Blackmail,” Gray says, his first word since I started. “He took them to hold what he knew over Ezra.”

We need to speak to Müller. It’s not yet dark, so we can do that tonight. First we attend to other matters, telling the others where we are going and so on. I take the time to visit the water closet, and I’m leaving just as Alice is coming up the stairs with a bouquet of flowers in each hand and a kitten nestled in the crook of her arm.

Seeing her, I laugh and put out my hand. I mean for her to give me a bouquet, but instead, she slides the kitten into my arms.

“I think she is lonely,” Alice says. “Missing her mother and brothers. I have been carrying her about with me, but it is not easy.”

“What you need is a pouch, like a mother kangaroo.”

Her brows shoot up.

“I will make you one in a moment,” I say. “Where are those flowers going?”

“Mr. Sinclair’s room.”

“Ah.”

She means the room where Ezra’s body is being kept, and the flowers are not for decoration. Even with the windows open, there is… a smell.

I take one bouquet and open the door. With the flowers in one hand and the kitten in the crook of my arm, I head over to replace the flowers beside the bed. I’m halfway there when the kitten explodes, hissing and leaping from my arms.

I bite back a too-modern curse as the kitten’s claws scratch my exposed forearm. Then the poor thing lets out a yowl as it falls awkwardly, lacking a right hind leg.

Alice scoops her up and cuddles her, but she keeps hissing. I hurry over to pet the cat.

“It’s the body,” I say. “She can smell it even better than we can.”

I take the second bouquet and set it out as I tell Alice to meet me in the hall. After they’re gone, I circle the room, looking for anything else that might have upset the kitten, but I don’t see it.

By then, the kitten has calmed enough that we’re able to take her back to our room. There, I fashion a sling for Alice to use. Then I realize I’ve been gone longer than I intended, and I hurry off downstairs. Time to speak to Müller.

I’m in the main-level corridor when Gray catches up with me. He lowers his voice and ducks his head as we walk. “I have just left a note in your room. Under the pillow.”

I’m glancing at him, brows raised, when we both notice one of the maids quickly retreating into another room after seeing—and hearing—us.

“My notes on the case,” Gray says, louder. “I had them delivered to your room. Please see that they are put in with the rest.”

“Of course, sir,” I say.

“This is too damnably complicated,” he mutters under his breath.

I brace for him to bring up the marriage-of-convenience suggestion again, but thankfully, he only says, “We will find a solution.”

“A solution to what?” McCreadie says, coming up behind us.

“The murder,” I say. “Fret not, dear detective. The illustrious Dr. Gray and his stalwart assistant are on the case and will solve it for you.”

McCreadie makes a rude noise, and we continue to the cloakroom to collect our outerwear.