Page 21

“I t was the annual Woodcroft House garden party.” Neville Sinclair, still worrying a pen between his fingertips, gazed at Athena across the desk in his study.

The sun filtered in through the tall casement windows that overlooked Woodcroft House’s expansive grounds. Athena was eager to hear what Mr. Sinclair had to say but reminded herself that his brother had been the victim of the murder in question, which may have clouded his judgment.

“My parents had been hosting the party for decades on the third Saturday in July,” Mr. Sinclair continued. “Harold hated the thing and had wanted to give it up after he’d inherited the estate. But the vicar had persuaded Harold to continue the tradition.”

“Who was invited to the party?”

“There were no invitations. It was open to everyone in the neighborhood, from the farmers and tradesmen and their wives to the most prominent families. Anyone except children could come, and most did.”

“Were you in attendance that day?”

“Yes. I was living in London at the time—I had completed my study of law at Inns of Court and had just been called to the bar. But I knew how much the locals looked forward to the party all year, and I thought it my duty to help host it.” He set down his pen in the inkstand.

“It was the usual set-up out on the back lawn. Tea, punch, biscuits, pies, cakes. Harold and Arthur Vernon had both spiked their punch with a shot of whiskey and were chumming around with each other, as always.” Mr. Sinclair seemed to warm to his subject as he went on.

“It was about an hour or so into the party and people were swarming the place when Miss Vernon made her appearance. Arthur Vernon was furious. She wasn’t supposed to be there.

I’m told he’d been keeping her at home under lock and key. ”

“Her father locked her up?” Athena’s entire body seemed to tense at this vile notion.

“Apparently, to make sure she wouldn’t run away before the wedding, which was in a week’s time.

” Mr. Sinclair made a face. “I told you the man was no gem. Anyway, she got out. She was dressed all in white. Like I said, like an angel—an avenging angel, as it turned out. She asked to speak to Harold privately, but he was a bit in his cups and told her to go home and leave him be. Then they started arguing.”

“Did you hear what they were arguing about?”

“Every word. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Dozens of others heard it as well and they all said the same at the assizes. Miss Vernon said, ‘I don’t love you. And you don’t love me.

You just want to possess me.’ She said she was terrified that if she ended their engagement, it might literally kill her father, who had a weak heart.

She begged Harold to break it off instead.

‘Say that you changed your mind—say that you hate me, I don’t care,’ she told him, ‘but please don’t make me go through with this.

’ Harold refused. He insisted that he had made a deal in good faith with her father.

If she wanted to call off the wedding, so be it, that was her prerogative, but he would not go back on his word.

Which was just as it should be.” Mr. Sinclair nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

“A gentleman never breaks his word, Miss Taylor.”

Athena took this in with a frown. “What happened next?”

“Harold put down his drink and stormed away. I caught up with him and he ordered Miles, our butler, to call the carriage to take Miss Vernon home. He asked me to see her out. By now, her father had gotten wind of what had happened, and he insisted on going with—to keep an eye on her, I suppose. After the carriage came around and they were safely off, I returned to the party and saw Harold finishing his drink. A few minutes later, he was coughing like mad and struggling to breathe. Then he fell down dead.”

Athena winced. “How awful.”

“It wasn’t pleasant to witness, I’ll give you that.” Mr. Sinclair’s tone was curiously matter-of-fact, and devoid of emotion. “When our apothecary, Mr. Quince, tested Harold’s glass, he found arsenic . Harold wouldn’t end their engagement, so Caroline Vernon poisoned his drink to get free of him.”

Athena looked at him. “ Did she? ”

He tipped his head to one side. “I beg your pardon?”

“The situation you described raises several interesting points, don’t you think? First: how can you be sure the poison was intended for your brother? I presume there were a great many glasses in use at the party?”

“Harold had his own custom-made whiskey glass. Cut crystal, with his initials inscribed on it in gold. It was the only one like it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Whoever poisoned that glass knew he would drink from it.”

“I see. But you said your brother put down his drink when he went off to find your butler. Where did he put his glass?”

“On a table.”

“Which means his glass was left unattended for an interval. Isn’t that so?”

“Exactly. That’s how Miss Vernon got to it.”

“Did anyone actually see her add poison to your brother’s drink?”

He paused, blinking rapidly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again. Finally, reluctantly, he said, “No.”

Aha , Athena thought. “Didn’t everyone at the party have the same access to that glass?”

“Perhaps.” He leaned back in his chair with a frown. “But Miss Vernon was standing right beside his glass when he left it. She had the perfect opportunity.”

“As I understand it, you were the parish constable at the time? This was your case?”

“I inherited the position when my brother died.”

“Wasn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“I beg your pardon?” he said again.

“Might you have been a bit prejudiced, being in charge of an investigation into your own brother’s death?”

He fixed his gaze on some point on the other side of the desk. “Not at all. The whole thing was completely aboveboard.”

Athena wasn’t so sure about that. “Did you investigate any other possible suspects, other than Miss Vernon?”

He dismissed her notion with a wave of his hand. “Didn’t need to. We had all heard Miss Vernon arguing with my brother. Her motive was clear. And then a maid at Thorndale Manor found rat poison in Miss Vernon’s room. The key ingredient in rat poison is arsenic. I didn’t need to look further.”

“So, you think Miss Vernon brought rat poison with her to the party? With the intention of poisoning Harold Sinclair if he didn’t end their engagement?”

“I do.”

“How do you imagine she brought the poison with her?”

He picked up a pencil now and began tapping it on the desktop. “In her handbag, I suppose. For all I know, she had it in her pocket. I don’t really care. Look, here—”

“You must acknowledge, sir, the possibility that someone else might have had a motive to kill your brother,” Athena challenged. “ Anyone at that party could have tampered with his glass. Rat poison is a very common substance. It can no doubt be found in every home in England.”

“ Not in a lady’s bedchamber ,” he returned sharply.

“If Miss Vernon had truly killed Harold Sinclair, why would she have kept the damning evidence in her own room? That would have been folly.”

He moved restlessly in his chair. “She was probably waiting for the perfect moment to dispose of it, but the maid got there first.”

Athena paused. What would it take to get this man to open his mind? “All the people who knew Miss Vernon best insist that she could never have killed anyone.”

“Who are all these people?” He made a scoffing sound. “Her brother? Her dearest friends?”

Athena realized that this line of thinking wouldn’t help her. “Sir, even if poison was found in Caroline Vernon’s room, it doesn’t prove that she did it. And what proof did you have that poison was actually found there? The maid who gave that testimony, Ethel Leighton, might have been lying.”

“Why would she have lied?”

“My housekeeper, Mrs. Lloyd, said that Ethel Leighton was a troublemaker. She may have stolen a hundred pounds from Arthur Vernon’s cash box. She quit the region immediately after Miss Vernon’s trial. Perhaps Ethel was paid to lie on the witness stand, to protect the real murderer.”

Mr. Sinclair shook his head, his eyes blazing with irritation now.

“Miss Taylor, you are wasting my time with these outrageous theories. Miss Vernon died nine years ago. What is your aim here? Do you have some fantasy that if you could clear her name, it might somehow restore Thorndale Manor’s reputation to its former glory? ”

Athena felt blood rush to her cheeks. He had seen through her. But honesty, she had found, was always the best policy. “Yes, sir, but… what if Caroline Vernon was innocent ? What if her killer is still free? If you would consider reopening the case—”

“ Reopen it ? Are you mad?”

“By doing so, you could learn the truth and achieve justice for your bother.”

Mr. Sinclair slapped the desk with his hand. “I did learn the truth!” he thundered. “I did achieve justice for my brother! Miss Vernon hanged for the crime and it’s over and done with.”

Athena swallowed her disappointment as Mr. Sinclair leaned forward across the desk and looked her in the eye.

“It’s a shame Harold had to die so young—but I won’t pretend to be crushed by it. In fact—and this is no secret—I despised my brother.”

Athena was so surprised by this admission, it took her a moment to respond. “Why?”

“Harold was three years older than me and always taller and broader. He decided early on that it was his job to terrify and torture me. Our nursery maid said he used to poke me with pins when I lay in my cradle.” He heaved a long sigh.

“From the time I could walk, there wasn’t a stick on the grounds that Harold didn’t beat me with.

He was always kicking me under the table or jumping out at me from around corners and mercilessly pummeling me.

Reminding me that he was the heir, and I was only the spare, a nobody who would never inherit or be worth the money my father was obliged to spend to educate me. ”