The Arnifour Affair (18 page)

“You forget yourself, Mr. Pendragon!” she snapped.

“I do no such thing,” he answered. “I do no such thing.”

CHAPTER 26

I
followed Colin without a word before remembering that he had released the cab upon our arrival. I couldn't believe that he meant for us to walk all the way back to town and so hung my hopes on the probability that he'd already formulated a plan. But as we continued to storm down the driveway without the slightest falter, I began to give up hope. And then we crested the driveway's second hill and he abruptly turned right and plunged into the woods without so much as a backwards glance to see if I was following. He knew I would be.

We continued in silence, crashing through thick brush that clawed at my trousers until we emerged onto a promontory that overlooked a velvety green meadow. Colin stopped and leaned back to draw in a deep expanse of morning air. “Spectacular,” he said breezily. “Why is it the moneyed are the last to appreciate what they have?”

“Well . . . ,” I sucked in my own deep breath, “. . . because it's impossible for a person to value that which they've never had to do without.”

He chuckled. “Profound.”

“Tell me . . . ,” I said as I gazed out to the horizon, “did you remember you'd let the cab go when you stalked out of the house?”

He shrugged. “Not exactly. But I can't remember everything. You are certainly free to contribute whenever you think it might be valuable.”

“I shall remember that the next time you're crossing words with a client who lives out in the country.”

“Crossing words?” His nearest eyebrow shot up. “Is that what you think happened?”

“Didn't it?” I couldn't help chuckling. “Wasn't that you who just threatened her about giving Nathaniel to the Yard?”

“I suppose so.” He waved me off and started barreling across the field, leaving a trail of bent grass in his wake, which I followed. “I'm not really angry with Lady Arnifour,” he called back, “because I'll solve this case anyway. I don't need another farthing from her.”

“So you don't care about being fired?”

“Fired?!” He curled his mouth with distaste. “I prefer to call it
freed
. Can we leave it at that?”

“Still . . .”

“Let me ask
you
a question.” He tossed back a rogue's grin. “Did you notice at what point in our questioning of Eldon that Lady Arnifour arrived?”

“I haven't a clue.” I laughed.

“We were talking about his earliest memories of Elsbeth and what had happened to her parents. He was reciting the story he'd been told as a boy. Lady Arnifour knew where I was leading him. It's why she stopped our conversation and sent him slinking upstairs. And I've no doubt she knows exactly where we got that information from.”

“Because the Heffernans are the only other ones who know.”

“Precisely. And she likely fears that if we can get those delicate details out of them, then there isn't much else we won't be able to extract.” His pace slowed as he continued to move diagonally across the field toward another stand of trees. “She knows we've discovered where Nathaniel is hiding.” He exhaled slowly. “I suspect we've become something of a threat to Her Ladyship. No doubt we've discovered far more than she ever intended. In fact,” he nearly growled, “we have learned everything about this blasted case except who the bloody hell killed her husband and illegitimate daughter, and why?”

I was startled by the intensity of his frustration as I stared at him. “How can we be a threat to her? We're trying to solve these murders. I mean, it's one thing that she didn't care about her husband—that marriage had soured years ago—but Elsbeth was her own flesh and blood!”

“Yes. And she was born of an illicit union that caused Lady Arnifour a lifetime of grief.”

“That's deplorable!”

I could tell he was struggling not to laugh at my indignation. “Not everyone harbors the same sense of propriety that you do. And that is exactly what has kept us employed all these years: the rabble who believe they are either above the law or smarter than it.”

“But we're talking about love. We're talking about family bonds—” But even as the words fell from my mouth, I recognized the intricacies of what I was saying. I knew better. My own childhood spoke of something very much different from the whimsy I was trying to float.

“Where have you gone off to?” I heard him say, and allowed him to impel me back. “Work awaits,” he announced, gesturing toward a rocky outcropping a short distance away. I followed his gaze and spotted Kaylin Arnifour seated on one of the boulders, her horse tied to a willow tree off to one side. She was staring away from us, gazing resolutely at the vast grassy lands stretching beyond her. “Did you know she'd be here?” I asked.

“I hoped she would. I've been following her trail since we left the house. Surely you knew that?”

“Trail?”

“Bent grass, snapped underbrush, fresh hoofprints. Have you not noticed any of it?”

I shrugged. I had no better answer to preserve my self-respect.

“Well, where did you think we were going?”

I shrugged again.

“Such devotion.” He laughed.

“So what
are
we doing here?” I asked, eager to stop feeling the fool.

“We've come to gain some clarity.” He started moving toward the promontory Kaylin was perched upon. “And to get a ride home.”

It was my turn to laugh, as I knew that had
not
been part of his original plan, and that's when Kaylin turned and spotted us. She waved as though pleased to see us, which I doubted given the desolation of her chosen spot.

“I hope you don't mind the intrusion,” Colin called as he picked his way across the boulders.

“Not at all. You're both welcome to my bit of refuge any time you feel the need. You'll find me here often, I'm afraid.”

“It is a beautiful place,” Colin said as he achieved the summit.

I pulled myself up behind him and was shocked by what I saw. The lush field was indeed remarkable, dotted with great stands of oaks and willows in a haphazard harmony that only nature can produce. Yet off in the distance to the left, sitting like a smudge on an otherwise flawless panorama, stood the scorched remains of the barn her father and half sister had been murdered beside. It was an unnerving sight that could only be ignored with considerable effort.

“Is this where you seek your solace then?” Colin asked as he dropped down next to her.

“Elsbeth and I used to ride out here all the time. It was our sanctuary. I haven't been up here since . . .” She pulled her knees in tight and hugged herself. “It doesn't help to be able to see that.” She nodded toward the charred remains. “I've decided to face this direction for the time being,” she said as she half-turned so she was facing Colin.

“Once that's torn down and hauled away you'll see the earth heal herself,” he reassured. “There'll be no trace. You'll have this to yourself again.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But at the moment I can't imagine that will ever be true.”

“Never discount the resilience of either nature or the human spirit.”

“I'm afraid my family's spirits come mostly in a bottle.”

“So I've noticed.”

“Don't judge us too harshly, Mr. Pendragon.” She sighed again as though the effort of defending her family were more than she could bear.

“I don't judge you at all. I must admit to living something of an unconventional life myself,” he said, flicking a glance at me that was thankfully missed by Kaylin.

“But you uphold the standard that everyone is expected to live by, Mr. Pendragon. The standard of law.”

“I suppose I do.” He leaned back on his hands. “But only those laws that make sense to me.”

“Are you telling me there are laws even you will break?” She grinned.

“There are laws I break every day.” He smiled back.

“May I ask you something?” I interrupted, eager to steer the conversation to safer grounds. “Are you and your neighbor, Mrs. Roynton, well acquainted?”

“Abigail Roynton?” She looked at me curiously. “We speak whenever we happen to attend the same engagements, but I would never call her a friend. I find her indiscretions to be the sort of vulgar behavior that sullies the reputation of all women. Never mind that my father fell prey to her. Men can hardly be blamed for what they have no control over. And I mean no offense.” But I could see she meant exactly what she'd said. “And why do you ask such a thing?”

“Because while I also found Mrs. Roynton unconventional to be sure, I thought there was something rather liberating in her ideals—”

“Liberating?!” She nearly choked as she glared at me. “If behaving without scruples can be construed as liberation, then I suppose you're right. I find her boorish and nothing less than despicable. It does nothing but impede the good work of the suffragists.”

“Of course,” I demurred, though I was actually wondering whether she thought Abigail Roynton capable of complicity to commit murder.

“Don't fall out of step with the movement and get left behind,” she continued to persist. “We are at the precipice of a new millennium and with it will come a world where men will no longer be allowed to accommodate their every whim at the expense of women. I'm sure I needn't remind you that without women there would
be
no men.”

“Yes. We figured that out some time ago.” Colin flashed a tight grin. “But do let me ask you about Eldon. . . .”

She grimaced. “I must apologize. I behaved badly with him and I'm terribly sorry. Eldon's always had a tougher go of things. Our father was forever demonstrating his disapproval and I'm afraid Eldon took the brunt of it.”

“And what was it your father was perpetually disapproving of?”

Kaylin stared out across the landscape for a moment before answering. “I always remember Eldon being an awkward boy, terribly shy, hanging around my mother's skirts, having no interest in his studies or hunting. For the longest time my mother promoted that. She protected him. But she got distracted as we grew older and eventually . . .” She let her voice drift off.

“Your brother's travails notwithstanding,” Colin said with a noticeable lack of empathy, “there is something weighing on my mind that I hope you might be able to explain.” He steadied his gaze on the side of her face. “As I'm sure you are aware, your father had a reputation for being kept on a tight financial rein by your mother. Nevertheless, I've come to believe that he may in fact have had access to considerable funds throughout the years. If that proves correct, what do you think he might have done with any money he was able to amass?”

“Considerable funds?! My father?! That's absurd. He had what my mother gave him, and that only begrudgingly.”

“I'm not so sure that's true.”

“No one would have given him money. I'm sorry, Mr. Pendragon, but that doesn't make sense.”

“Even so, for sake of the exercise, I'd like to hear what you imagine he might have done with a ready supply of cash?”

She looked at him a minute, and then turned to me as though I might see the folly in what he was suggesting, but I knew he meant to have an answer. “I can't even fathom such a possibility. My father was horrendous with money. I'm afraid you've struck upon a preposterous notion. Whoever told you such a thing was deceiving you. It isn't true.”

“Well then . . .” He smiled easily and turned his gaze back across the field. “I'm only trying to ensure I follow every possible supposition.”

“A noble goal.” She stood up and stretched. “But I'm afraid I must be getting back to the house. I have four more horses to run today.”

“Of course, but might we trouble you for one more thing?”

“I'll do whatever I can,” she said as she nimbly picked her way down off the boulders.

“We find ourselves without a way back to town. Could you possibly?”

She glanced up at us, a generous smile parting her lips. “I'll have to take you one at a time.”

“Certainly.”

She let out a satisfied laugh. “I very much like this. For once the damsel gets to come to the rescue.”

CHAPTER 27

I
admit that I was surprised. After Kaylin dropped me off I had assumed Colin would be no more than an hour behind, so when he arrived three hours later reeking of lavender perfume and champagne I was not particularly pleased. He explained that he had decided to visit the widow Roynton while waiting for Kaylin to come back for him, and that Mrs. Roynton had sent him home in her own carriage. “She's really just an old flirt.” He snickered.

“I should hardly think anyone would refer to her as
old,
” I replied with perhaps a touch more sarcasm than I had intended.

It got another snicker out of him just the same. “Shouldn't you be asking if I learned anything of value?”

“I was getting to that,” I said. “It's just hard talking to you when you smell like a wine-soaked floral shop.”

He sniffed at his coat as he pulled it off. “Hmm. I suppose you have a point.”

I could only shake my head. “She helpful then?”

“Helpful?!” he repeated as he dropped to the floor and began a quick succession of push-ups. “I'm happy to report that the lovely widow admitted several things to me,” he said without missing a beat. “Not the least of which is that she can absolutely believe our noble Earl had access to money he didn't let on about. She insists there was no limit to his levels of deceit. Yet she professes no idea as to what he might have done with any such sizeable fortune. Nevertheless . . . ,” he jumped up and rotated his arms with a satisfied sigh, “she suggested someone who she believes shares the late Earl's lack of conscience and just might have an idea.”

“And who would that be?”

He grinned as he snatched up one of his dumbbells and began curling it effortlessly while pacing. “Poor, carping Warren Vandemier. She thinks the Earl's partner has far more up his sleeve than he is letting on.”

“But all he did was prattle on about how the Earl cheated him.”

“Precisely. He put up such protestations that it reminded me of that Shakespeare quote.”

“What Shakespeare quote?”

He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at me. “You know the one:
Methinks he doth protest too much
?
”

“What?”

“
The lady doth protest too much
. Hamlet's mother says it.”

He shrugged, switching the dumbbell to his other hand. “Details.”

“So now you're tying your deductions to the intrigues of literary characters?”

He shrugged. “Good literature, by its very definition, casts an unwavering eye on the truth of humanity. That's what gives it its profundity.”

“This from a man who never reads.”

“ 'Ay?” Mrs. Behmoth hollered. “Ya got comp'ny comin'. Stop yer cluckin'.”

“Ever so gracious,” I muttered.

Colin hurried to the window and gazed down onto the street. “Well now, here's an unexpected turn. Eldon Arnifour has come to pay a visit.”

“Lock the liquor cabinet.”

“Perish the thought,” he said as he rolled the dumbbell under the settee and took a seat. “It's important that he have plenty to drink lest he harbor any hesitancy about saying whatever he's come to say.”

“Lord Eldon Arnifour comin' up!”
Mrs. Behmoth yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“I hate when she does that,” I grumbled.

“I should think you'd long be used to it by now.”

Not a moment later Eldon appeared on the landing in his typical disheveled fashion, sporting a crooked grin that undoubtedly spoke more to the amount of drink he'd consumed than any sense of good mood. “Have a seat,” Colin said magnanimously. “Make yourself at home.”

“I don't think you really mean to say such a thing to me.” He chuckled as he dropped onto the same settee his mother had collapsed upon the day she hired us. “I'm afraid home has no particular fondness for me. But could I trouble you for a drink?”

“I assume you're not referring to tea?”

“Not unless there's a fair amount of scotch in it.”

“We could do that if you'd like or we could just forego the tea completely,” Colin said, producing our bottle of scotch from its eternal resting place in the cupboard.

“Now there's the best idea yet. No wonder your services are so well respected, Mr. Pendragon. And anyway, I'd hate to force that delightful woman downstairs to tote a tray of tea all the way up here.”

“And for that I know she would thank you.” Colin poured three small glasses, giving Eldon the most, and handed them out. If Eldon noticed that his glass was fuller than ours he certainly didn't seem to care. “So tell me . . . ,” Colin sat down and casually placed his untouched drink on the table between us, “to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I'm tired of being censored by my mother every time we try to have a conversation. The old harridan thinks she controls everyone, but she doesn't toe the line on me. Oh no. I've come to say some things I'll wager you've not heard before,” he said with great bluster before he drained his glass. “Is there a limit?” He glanced at Colin.

“Only by virtue of what's in the cupboard. Help yourself.”

Eldon popped up, not warranting a second invitation, and refilled his glass. “Did you know, gentlemen, that my esteemed father once had quite the dalliance with that charming bulldog Mrs. O'Keefe?” He laughed coarsely. “Just imagine
that,
if you will.”

Colin slid his gaze to me, but I couldn't tell if it was doubt or disbelief in his eyes. “And why would that bear any interest? It seems to me your father rutted just about anyone who would let him.”

Eldon wandered back over to us, the whiskey bottle clutched firmly in one hand. “Ah yes, it is a curse of the male Arnifour progeny. It is a need, not a desire, that we elevate to an art. Surely you must be able to understand that, Mr. Pendragon. You're something of a strapping man yourself. I'm sure you've turned the ladies' heads many a time.”

“I'm sure I haven't noticed,” he drolled. “But you were talking about Mrs. O'Keefe. While I'm certain she must be a delightful housekeeper, I'm finding it something of a struggle to fathom why your father would be interested in shagging her.”

Eldon chuckled as he shrugged lazily. “Availability, I suppose. My mother was indisposed carrying Kaylin and where else could the poor man turn? We didn't have any other female help at the time and she's always made such a fuss over him. Anyone can see it. I wasn't quite five at the time and I knew she was keen on him.” He winked and tipped his glass at Colin as he took another sip.

“Well, this is all very fascinating . . . ,” Colin said as he got up, “but I fail to see—”

“Then stop interrupting,” Eldon sniped as he stabbed his glass onto the table in front of him. “You are missing the point, Mr. Pendragon, because you have not let me finish.”

Colin snatched up the hunting knife he had left on the mantel and began buffing its blade with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “Forgive me,” he said with more sincerity than I could have achieved at that moment. “By all means . . .”

Now that Eldon knew he'd earned our fullest attention, or at least the closest we were ever likely to accord him, he made a great show of pouring another two fingers into his glass and settling back before continuing. There was also a rakish grin teasing the corners of his mouth. “My mother was quite ill when she carried Kaylin. She kept to her room nearly the entire time, which left my father to chase Mrs. O'Keefe about like a middle school boy. This
is
quite some time ago.” He chuckled and allowed himself another sip of his drink.

“While I was certainly very young, I was not blind to the incongruity of my father and Mrs. O'Keefe sneaking about, especially with her giggling like a coquette whenever my father was nearby. It was all very appalling, which is precisely why I remember it. Why is it that such things stick in our brains while that which is most cherished is as fleeting as a cut rose?”

“Are you asking me?” Colin asked as he continued to buff the knife blade. “Or am I still just listening?”

Eldon's brow furrowed. “Really, Mr. Pendragon, you're being most uncivil when I've only just come to tell what I know.”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered. “Very obtuse of me.”

Eldon seemed to ignore Colin as he held his glass up right in front of his eyes with a look of great enticement. “I should think you would find it interesting to hear that our dear Mrs. O'Keefe began putting on weight while my own poor mother was lying about upstairs trying to ensure the safe arrival of our Kaylin. I remember it because I said something to my nanny about the suddenly expanding Mrs. O'Keefe and was quite soundly thumped for my cheek. It was only some years later that I realized what had likely transpired.” He leered.

I clamped my mouth shut to keep my jaw from unhinging, certain I must be misinterpreting his meaning. Even Colin kept still for a protracted period of time before finally screwing up his face and asking, “Are you suggesting that Mrs. O'Keefe was with child at the same time as your mother?”

“Ah . . .” Eldon grinned roguishly as he tipped his glass. “There's the sleuth the papers adore.”

“And you're saying your father was responsible?”

“Come now.” Eldon took another sip as he stretched out on the settee. “Is that really so hard to believe? We've already established his propensity for a tryst, and you cannot deny that he was fully capable.” He swept a hand across his body with a flourish, clearly meaning to present himself as the truth of that statement.

“How old were you at the time?”

Eldon heaved a sigh as though bothered by such a banal thought. “I was just about six and very precocious, and would've remained so if I hadn't been driven to spirits by the time puberty seized me.” He scowled. “Mrs. O'Keefe got fleshy,” he continued after a moment, “and then she was gone.”

“Gone?”

He looked up at us and in that instant his usual derision had returned. “Packed off like the embarrassment she had become,” he said gleefully. “She was gone for about four months. Who the hell can remember. But it was a bloody long time, that's for sure. Certainly long enough—” He let the sentence hang in the air.

“Where were you told she'd gone off to?”

He seemed to consider the question a moment as he cast his gaze about and pursed his lips. “I don't really remember anymore. Sisters? Aunties? Dog pound? Hard to say.”

“I see . . . ,” Colin muttered, and I could practically hear his brain whirring. “Suppose she
had
gone off to have a baby . . . what of it?”

“Well, there's the thing.” Eldon nearly crowed his enthusiasm. It was evident he was taking great merriment in our skepticism, which I could not help but find unsettling. “Not long after Mrs. O'Keefe went missing—it couldn't have been six or eight weeks later—I awoke sometime in the night to a great deal of commotion. Dear Mother was not well, you see. There were all manner of people bustling about, and my cursed nanny kept trying to shoo me back to bed. But I wasn't having any of it. I hid in the shadows of the hallway until I saw them carry my mother past on a stretcher. There was a great crowd of people around her, so I couldn't see her face, but I could hear her crying. I remember being quite terrified.” He let out a caustic laugh. “Can you imagine?

“My father finally noticed me lurking about and yanked me back to my bedroom with his usual brute affection,” he chuckled again, “but not before I caught sight of the blood. There was a towel heaped on the floor of my mother's room that was saturated and a puddle of it near her bed. A young boy remembers a thing like that.” He lifted his glass slightly and twirled its contents around a moment before deciding to continue. I couldn't tell whether he was drawn to the memory or repelled by it. “And do you know what my father told that snot-nosed, weepy-faced boy after pulling him back to his bedroom? He said:
Buck up, you little turd—your mother might not make it and we can't have you sniveling about.
”

I don't think I had really expected to hear anything much different, yet it remained striking just the same.

“I suppose your father was practical if nothing else,” Colin said as he set the knife he'd been buffing back onto the mantel and stooped to poke at the fire. “But your mother did return and she brought Kaylin with her.” Colin stood up and turned to Eldon. “She did bring Kaylin with her?”

A sly grin slowly grew on Eldon's face. “So clever, Mr. Pendragon. Kaylin came. Eventually. About a fortnight after Mother had returned from the hospital and just days before Mrs. O'Keefe made her own discreet homecoming. They told me dear sister had been sick and almost died, but as I got older and remembered all that blood, I began to wonder who was fooling whom.”

Colin moved around and dropped back into his chair. “If what you're insinuating is true, why would your mother agree to such a ruse?”

“And that's the thing.” Eldon finished off his scotch and pounded the glass onto the table with finality. “I believe this was perpetrated on my mother without her ever having the slightest notion. She wasn't around to see Mrs. O'Keefe's gradually burgeoning shape. And once my mother was in the hospital it would have been easy for my father to control what information she received. How he must have loved having her raise his daughter as though she were her own.”