Jo Goodman (37 page)

Colin found Mercedes in the library with her tenant and the sheriff. He greeted both men solemnly, but turned to Mercedes for an explanation.

"The children are fine," she said. Her hands were folded in front of her and the only sign of her agitation was in her white-knuckled grip. "The fire was in the cottage closest to the Thayers. It's been vacant for several years. That's why—" She hesitated and looked at Mr. Thayer. "Please, you tell him what happened."

The tenant farmer had no liking for center stage, but he couldn't refuse Mercedes. He clutched his hat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "My wife rose to feed the babe," he said. "Sometime after midnight, it were. She saw the flames in the neighboring cottage and called to me. I roused the children and we went with buckets but there was nothing to save. The best we could do was let it burn itself out and make sure the fire didn't spread to our own place or the fields." His gaze wavered and he looked to Mercedes uncertainly.

"I'm sure you did the right thing," she said.

This small encouragement helped him continue. "I talked it over with my wife and we both agreed there was no need to let you know what happened until morning. There wasn't anything you could do, and with the cottage being empty and all..." His voice trailed off and he stared at the floor. "Well, this morning I got to thinking about how the fire started. I was worried about the children, you see. Sometimes they play over there." He shot Mercedes a quick glance. "I tell them they're not allowed but—"

"Yes," she said. "I know how children do."

He nodded. "I wanted to be sure they hadn't been the cause—else I'd make them come tell you themselves—so I went over this morning and poked around a bit, just to see what I could. The embers were still hot but I managed to move a few rafters." Mr. Thayer looked at Colin squarely. "I found a body, sir. That's why I went to get Mr. Patterson."

"They think it's the earl," Mercedes said quietly. "His body is burned..." She sat down on the edge of the chair behind her.

Colin went to the walnut table that held the decanters of liquor. He splashed a tumbler with whisky and handed it to her. "Drink it," he said when she hesitated. "These men won't think worse of you for it." To prove it to her he offered drinks to Patterson and Thayer and they both accepted. "If the body is badly burned," he said to the sheriff, "what makes you think it's Weybourne?"

Randall Patterson was in his early fifties, a contemporary of the earl but certainly not of the same circle. He owed his position as county law officer to Mercedes's father and he managed to keep it after power and influence changed hands by the fact that the present Earl of Weybourne had little interest in local politics. He was a slim man, almost gaunt, with a shock of gray hair at his temples and at his nape. The crown of his head was as smooth as a glass globe. His thick, wiry eyebrows were raised slightly as he spoke. "We found something next to the body that we thought might help settle the matter," he said. "I'm hoping Miss Leyden can identify it."

Patterson set his drink down and slipped one hand into his coat pocket. His palm covered the object until he had it completely free. There was no flourish in the gesture as he held it out for Mercedes to see.

Fire had tarnished the silver flask. There were fingerprints in the soot where it had been handled by Mr. Thayer and the sheriff, and the cap of the flask had melted to the neck. Still, Mercedes had no difficulty identifying the object or remembering where she had seen it last. She stared at it, unable to speak.

Colin removed a handkerchief from inside his pocket. "May I?" he asked Patterson.

"By all means." He passed the flask to Colin and wiped the tips of his blackened fingertips with his own handkerchief.

Colin studied the flask, wiping away the soot along the gold-banded bottom. There were no engraved initials to identify the flask as his, but he recognized the small dimple in the band, put there by a wayward fist in a tavern brawl. It was hard to believe there could be another just like it. Frowning, Colin looked at Mr. Thayer. The farmer wouldn't meet his gaze.

He started to hand the flask back to Patterson but Mercedes came to her feet and took it from him. "I think you'll see that it's—"

"Yes," she said, stopping him from saying another word. "I do see. It's the earl's." She gripped the flask in the handkerchief. "Of course I recognize it." Her hands trembled as she turned it over. "This is it?" she asked. "This is all you found?"

Patterson and Thayer nodded in unison. "If you're certain it belongs to your uncle," Patterson said, "then I think we can safely say it's his remains in the cottage."

Colin's eyes darted from Mercedes to Thayer and back again. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she was quite certain of her answer, but Patterson interrupted him.

"It would be helpful if you could actually recall seeing him with the flask," the sheriff said.

Mercedes's smile was rueful. "It would be harder to recall him without it," she said, then she looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." She forced another smile and leveled her clear gray gaze on the sheriff. "But yes, I know he had it when he set out to meet Captain Thorne. That's the last time I saw him."

Patterson nodded. He held out his hand for the flask.

"I'd like to keep it," she said. "After all, it was my uncle's."

"I'm afraid I can't let you. I may need it as evidence."

"Evidence?" Mercedes asked. "Why is it evidence? I've already identified it as the earl's."

Patterson took it from her, wrapping it in his own handkerchief this time, and slipped it into his pocket. "One can never tell what will be needed in a murder investigation."

Mercedes blinked. "Murder? But surely you don't think the fire was started on purpose?"

The sheriff rubbed his pointed chin with the back of his hand. His gaze wandered from Mercedes to Thayer, then to the shelves of books, and finally settled, quite deliberately on Colin. "I think that's the one thing I
can
say with some assurance. Would you agree, Captain Thorne?"

Colin didn't flinch from the thoughtful gaze turned in his direction. "I don't think I know enough to agree one way or the other."

"The fire makes it impossible to know how long the earl's been dead."

"I don't understand," Mercedes said. "I thought the fire killed my uncle."

Patterson shook his head. He answered Mercedes's question but he remained looking at Colin. "There would have been no reason to shoot him if that were the case." He reached in his other pocket and held up a lead ball between his thumb and forefinger. "I apologize for not telling you sooner, Miss Leyden, but this would be the other thing we found."

Mercedes's fingers twisted the handkerchief in her hands. "What are you saying? The earl was shot?"

Colin's smile was grim. "That's precisely what he's saying. And I imagine I'm a prime suspect. Isn't that right, Mr. Patterson?"

"Afraid so."

"Am I under arrest?"

"No." He paused. "Not yet."

Mercedes took a step forward. "You're wrong, Mr. Patterson. Captain Thorne had nothing to do with my uncle's death. That cottage was searched the morning of the duel and the day after, as well. Mr. Thayer says his children play there and they've never reported seeing my uncle around. Surely they would have come forward if they had stumbled upon his body." She looked to the farmer for support.

He nodded. "That's right. None of us saw anyone."

"Or heard anything," Mercedes prompted.

"Not a sound," he said quickly.

Patterson listened patiently. "I didn't say the murder took place there. It's only where the body's been found."

Mercedes's heart was hammering in her chest. "You've got this wrong," she said sharply. "Captain Thorne has been here, with one of us, since his arrival at Weybourne Park."

The sheriff cleared his throat and ducked his head apologetically. "Your defense of the captain is noted, Miss Leyden, and it weighs heavily, given the fact that it's your own uncle who's the victim here, but you can't account for Captain Thorne's whereabouts day
and
night." He watched her carefully. "Can you?"

Despair clouded Mercedes's eyes. She glanced at Colin helplessly.

Colin wasn't looking at Mercedes. His mouth had thinned. A muscle worked in his jaw. His darkly cold glance was boring into the sheriff. "Of course she can't," he said tautly. "And a gentleman wouldn't have asked her. You will
not
disrespect the lady again."

Patterson did not back down from Colin but he did make a short bow to Mercedes. "I beg your pardon. I meant no disrespect. I believe a point had to be made."

"Then you will make your point to me," Colin said, giving no quarter.

The sheriff straightened and made the small concession. "As you wish."

"I want to see the body myself," he said.

"It's still at the cottage. We haven't removed it." To Mercedes, Patterson said, "You'll want to send someone to see to the earl."

"I'll go myself," she said.

All three men answered simultaneously. "No!"

Mercedes gave a start at the force they put behind their response. Even Mr. Thayer managed to show some real heat.

"It's no place for you," Colin said. "Send Mr. Hennepin and Fitch. They can fashion a box quickly for the remains. You can decide what you want to do once he's returned here."

Mercedes recognized the futility of arguing. They all thought she was quite mad for even suggesting she wanted to go. None of them understood that until she saw it with her own eyes, she couldn't believe it was true. She nodded slowly. "I should call the staff together... and my cousins." It was difficult to think clearly. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and the edges of her vision were becoming obscured. "Chloe's with the vicar. She'll have to be told... her wedding..."

Colin put his hand on Mercedes's elbow and made certain she was sitting before he rang for Mrs. Hennepin. "If you men will wait for me in the hall, I'll be with you in a moment."

Mr. Thayer was on his way to the door immediately. Mr. Patterson followed at a slower pace. He glanced over his shoulder once before he left the room to see Colin solicitously place Mercedes's drink in her hands again. Their fingertips brushed. The touch seemed to linger. The sheriff stepped outside, wondering what he should make of that.

Colin pushed the tumbler toward Mercedes's lips, let her sip, then set it aside. He straightened and looked down on her. "That's a credibly dazed look you've shown them. I shouldn't wonder that they're convinced of your innocence." He cupped her chin and raised her face to him. "But I'll be damned if I know how you could have gotten the rope any tighter around my neck."

Chapter 11

Wallace Leyden, the Right Honorable Earl of Weybourne, was laid to rest two days later. Word of his death had reached all the way to London even before the
Times
printed the obituary. Mourners began arriving at Weybourne Park early in the morning. Chief among those feeling the loss were creditors and friends to whom Weybourne owed money. Marcus Severn was there with his father. The old earl needed his cane and his son's assistance to get around, and Marcus was solicitous and attentive. The sheriff attended, standing at the back of the gathering while scripture was being read, all the while observing the mourners for some hint of guilt.

Tenants came to pay their respects. They shuffled past Mercedes and Weybourne's children slowly, murmuring their condolences. None of them voiced the questions they had about their own futures or the future of Weybourne Park.

Colin's man of affairs also arrived. The solicitor came without being summoned, in response to what he knew would be a legal tangle once he learned of the earl's passing. Mr. Lawrence Abernathy remained quietly in the background, offering his counsel to Colin beyond the watchful eye of Sheriff Patterson and Marcus Severn.

There was no official mention of murder, but rumor ran true to form, spreading among the peerage with the conscience and speed of a brushfire. Mercedes had little doubt as to where the gossip mill got its grist. She had only to watch Severn move among the mourners, dropping a word here and there, always without seeming to accuse or pass judgment. After he moved on, however, she observed the furtive glances in Colin's direction and the whispered asides.