Murder at the Ice Ball Read online

“Did she go around to the front, where the drivers might have been waiting with the carriages?”

  “I hurried down the stairs and didn’t see where she went. The drivers all wait in the livery down the street, where it’s warm.”

  Katherine frowned. If that was the case, then it was doubly odd for a driver to be found on the third floor of the house. What could Lady Rochford’s driver have been doing here? Chasing skirts, like Peggy suggested, or something more sinister?

  “Can you think of anything else unusual that you saw or heard that night?”

  Wiping her eyes, Peggy shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I knew I wouldn’t be of much use.”

  Harriet squeezed the maid’s shoulder. “You’ve been a wonderful help. Thank you. I’m going to sneak down to the kitchen to say hello to Gertie before I leave. I’ll show us out, so you don’t have to worry about manning the door.”

  Nodding, Peggy lifted her gaze toward Harriet and gave a watery smile. “Try not to be seen. Her ladyship is still bemoaning the ruin of her ice ball. I don’t think she’d take kindly to knowing there were visitors in the house.”

  “We’ll keep to servants’ corridors,” Harriet assured her.

  As they bundled into the narrow corridor, Harriet warned with her eyes for them to remain silent. They would speak of their findings later. She shut the door, leaving Peggy in peace to collect herself. The moment the door was closed, Harriet whispered, “My friend in the kitchen, Gertie, saw someone as well. Since we’re already here, you might as well hear the tale from her.”

  Katherine nodded. “Thank you, Harriet. I know you don’t care for investigating. We appreciate the help.”

  With a small sigh, Harriet muttered to herself as she passed. “As if I could sit idly by with a murderer on the prowl.”

  Katherine frowned. Perhaps her enthusiasm for investigation was rubbing off on her maid too.

  They retraced their steps through the house until they reached the door by which they had entered. From there, Harriet led the way down a marginally wider corridor toward the kitchen. The heat of the ovens soaked into Katherine’s bones as she neared, a comfort. Unfortunately, Harriet stopped shy of the door. She shooed Katherine and Pru into the larder and promised to return shortly with her friend.

  Pru whispered, “Are we looking at the driver now instead of the husband? Perhaps he pushed Lady Rochford on behalf of the baron.”

  Katherine shook her head. “It’s suspicious for him to be in the house, I’ll admit, but we mustn’t jump to conclusions. I’ve done that before, and it’s clouded my judgment.”

  “But it’s worked out in the end. We need an angle, a suspect to investigate.”

  “And we’ll have one,” Katherine assured her. “But I must do this right, for Susanna’s sake.”

  “Then how would you have us proceed?”

  Katherine held up a finger. “First of all, by hearing what this friend of Harriet’s has to say. It’s possible the two tales will conflict horribly.”

  Pru frowned. “You mean the way Peggy’s did? She all but announced that she thought Lady Rochford’s driver to be the murderer then turned around and confessed to watching a woman flee the scene of the crime!”

  “Peggy saw Lady Rochford’s driver in the house. But how much time had passed between then and when she was pushed off the balcony? Peggy admitted that she can’t recall. It might have been ten or fifteen minutes, for all we know, or it might only have been five. Unless someone else is willing to admit they saw him on the third floor, we cannot know for certain.”

  “And the woman fleeing the house?”

  “She might be a suspect, but again, the timing is suspect. Peggy claimed she heard the scream and saw the woman out the window as she ran downstairs. Would there be enough time to push Lady Rochford and make it all the way to the servants’ entrance in order to have been seen by Peggy?”

  The ajar door swung open to reveal Harriet next to a motherly woman near her height. Harriet ushered her inside and shut the door behind them once more. “Gertie, these are the friends I was speaking to you about. I’d like you to tell them what you told me, if you’d please.”

  Rather than acting timid or upset at the prospect of confessing what she’d seen, the woman narrowed her eyes and studied Katherine and Pru from head to toe. She lingered near Katherine’s ankles, where her stockings showed above her boots. The urge to cover herself was nearly overwhelming.

  She met Gertie’s gaze plainly.

  “Your friends, you say?” the cook asked.

  “I am her friend,” Katherine declared. “We’ll take only a moment of your time.”

  “You must be cold, dressed as you are. Did Harriet say you served at Dorchester House with her?”

  Katherine gritted her teeth. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Harriet shift in place. She clasped her hands in front of her and spoke firmly. “I do not, but we’ve crossed paths there a time or two.”

  The grooves around Gertie’s mouth deepened as she made a suspicious noise. “Your master cannot afford to give you new clothes?”

  “I had a recent growth spurt. You know how it is, as long as it fits ’round the middle…” Katherine tugged on the material uncomfortably tight over her hips. “Harriet told me you saw something unusual the other night?”

  For a moment, she feared that Gertie would keep whatever it was she had seen to herself. The woman’s lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed as she studied Katherine once more as if to gauge whether she was trustworthy. Next to her, Pru tensed.

  Katherine waited, trying to keep her stance relaxed and her expression open. Despite the nerves stinging beneath her skin, she didn’t press Gertie further. Instead, she waited for the woman to reach her own conclusions.

  At last, the cook admitted, “I saw a woman, cloaked, shortly after the time of the accident.”

  “A black cloak?” Pru asked, her voice loud.

  Gertie frowned. “No. Royal blue. I’m quite certain. She passed by the light of the scullery as I was washing up. I saw her through the window.”

  Katherine asked, “Did you recognize her?”

  “No,” the cook answered after a moment’s pause. “I never saw her face.”

  “The cloak, did it have ermine trim?”

  Gertie’s frown deepened. “No. Are you looking for someone in particular?”

  Merely hoping to get the story straight.

  This proved Katherine’s earlier point on witnesses being unreliable. One woman saw a black cloak with ermine trim. One saw a blue cloak with no trim. Could be the maid imagined the trim or the cook didn’t see it. Neither had seen the woman’s face. Gertie undoubtedly had seen the person more closely, given that Peggy had glanced out a window on the second or third floor when she’d seen this fleeing figure.

  Wait… “Is the scullery near the servants’ entrance at the side of the house?”

  “No. The scullery is near the back. Closer to the main street. The servants’ entrance is on the side street.” Clearly exasperated, the woman turned to Harriet. “Did you want to hear my tale or concoct your own? I don’t have time for this. I have chores to be about.”

  As the woman turned and strode from the room, leaving the door open in her wake, Harriet opened her mouth.

  “It’s fine, Harriet. I trust she told us all she told you?”

  The maid nodded.

  “Then all we have to do is piece together the truth of the matter.”

  Pru frowned as she mulled over the problem. “I do see what you mean about unreliable testimony. What color was the cloak?”

  “I don’t think it matters at the moment so much as the fact that two people have confirmed seeing a woman fleeing the scene of the crime.”

  “But… if she was seen coming out the servants’ entrance and then going past the scullery, that means she didn’t go toward the livery, because that is in the opposite direction. Where was she headed?” Harriet asked.

  “Good question,” Pru said. “Is this myst
erious woman, whomever she may be, still our only suspect? We were told outright of the unusual presence of a man near the site of the murder at a time when he could have done it.”

  Katherine scouted to ensure that the corridor was clear before she whispered back. “We’ll have to follow that lead as well. We can’t afford to discount any of the clues.”

  “And Lord Rochford? Even if he wasn’t specifically seen on the third floor, he might still have done it. His driver might have been scouting to ensure that he wasn’t interrupted. They could be working together.”

  “It’s possible,” Katherine answered, her voice tight. “Let’s wait and discuss this outside, where we won’t be overheard.”

  Fortunately, the larder wasn’t located far from the door they’d used to gain entry. Harriet led them there directly. Although they passed a young footman going about his chores, he didn’t stop them. He merely nodded at Harriet and continued past.

  Outside, Katherine gathered her cloak close around her shoulders and followed in Harriet’s footsteps as they departed Dalhousie Manor and set out down the street. The sludge thrown by passing carriage wheels made for slick footing. As a carriage passed, she tried to pull her cloak around her ankles to save them from the spray. The cold flecks that splattered her stockings chilled her.

  “So, what of the husband?” Pru asked when they reached the corner of the street. “Are we to interview him next?”

  Katherine acknowledged, “It might be wise. Perhaps we can discover who in his household had driven the family to the ice ball that night. He might have more than one driver.”

  Harriet shook her head. “Baron Rochford has only one.”

  “How do you know?” Pru accused.

  Pausing in her step, Harriet skewered her with a wry look. “I’m Lady Katherine’s abigail. What do you think I do when she’s at events? I wait with the drivers and the other ladies’ maids.” When Pru didn’t question her further, Harriet turned to Katherine and continued to walk. “I know you well enough to know your next question. Yes, one of the footmen could conceivably have taken the driver’s place for that evening. But Peggy’s description of the man matches Rayner, the driver. He has a reputation with women.”

  Katherine frowned. “He’s never given you trouble, has he?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Katherine held her gaze for a moment more before nodding. Years ago, when Lyle had taught Katherine some defensive maneuvers in case she found herself in an undesirable situation, he had also instructed Harriet. Harriet had taken great pleasure in executing these moves on Lyle in the most precise and painful of manners. He had underestimated her. Katherine tucked away a smile at the memory.

  “Very well. The driver is Rayner. If he’s around Lord Rochford’s home when we call, we can interview him as well.”

  A flicker of unease crossed Harriet’s face. “I’ll ask for you to question him without me present. We had a bit of a misunderstanding a few months ago, and as a result, he doesn’t much care for me. I think you’d be more likely to discover the truth if you asked him yourself.”

  Katherine nodded. “We’ll approach him on our own, then.”

  “Make sure you tell him you’re Lord Dorchester’s daughter. He won’t give you any trouble then.”

  She frowned. “Is he so much of a predator?”

  “Not a malicious one, like some. He wouldn’t force a woman to accept his attentions, but he does make it abundantly clear when you’ve caught his interest.”

  Katherine almost hoped that Rayner was the murderer, simply so that by shutting him away, she would be able to save the women in Mayfair some grief.

  “What do his womanizing ways have to do with the murder?” Pru asked. “Unless… Do you think Lady Rochford could have been having an affair with her driver?”

  Pru seemed awfully attached to the idea that Lady Rochford had been unfaithful. If she had been the type, wouldn’t Katherine’s stepmother have mentioned it as a possibility as to the motive of her murder?

  Katherine chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to discount any theories without just cause, but she didn’t want Pru to run off chasing flights of fancy, either. “It may be possible. Let’s learn more of the situation before we dash to any conclusions.”

  Harriet flung out her arm, preventing them from crossing the street as a driver led a team of four at a quick trot. While she checked for further dangers, she said, “I think you’re approaching this investigation the wrong way.”

  Pru scowled.

  On the other hand, Katherine knew her maid to have a quick mind. What had she seen that Katherine had discounted? “What do you mean?”

  “You’re counting everyone as a suspect when there are several you can discount from the beginning. An entire ballroom watched Lady Rochford fall from the balcony. Who was among them? Was her husband? Was anyone conspicuously absent?”

  Katherine couldn’t recall where he’d been, only that he’d run out sometime after Lady Rochford fell. However, her breath hitched as she recalled that she had been looking for one man in particular. One man that she hadn’t seen in the ballroom at the time of the death.

  “Katherine?” Pru asked, touching her arm lightly. “You have that look about you, like you’ve thought of something. What is it?”

  “There is one person I know was missing from the ballroom, but it can’t be him.”

  “Who?”

  Katherine took a deep breath before she admitted, “We couldn’t find the Marquess of Bath at that time. His grandmother exited into the cold and was ushered inside by someone else. But he’s a good man. I know he is.”

  Pru looked grim. “You said yourself we cannot discount any possibilities.”

  “Is he even acquainted with Lady Rochford?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Pru announced. “We’ll have to ask him.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Will you be leaving the dog outside?” asked the butler as he peered down his long nose in the doorway of Lord Bath’s townhouse in Mayfair. Since it was located a mere two blocks from Dorchester House, Katherine had taken the opportunity to walk Emma. She needed the distraction in case Grandma Bath should decide to take up the cause of matching her with Lord Bath.

  “Thank you, I’ll bring her inside with me. Lord Bath is acquainted with her. Is he at home?”

  The butler, more ancient perhaps than Grandma Bath, shifted in place, though not a sliver of discomfort showed in his expression. Katherine swore she heard his bones creak.

  “It is highly irregular for a woman to call upon my lord.”

  Katherine gritted her teeth. “What of Lady Bath, then? I’m sure she will love to see us.”

  The butler gave no outward indication that he had heard her speak. Not the twitch of a muscle betrayed his curiosity, but his eyes took on a gleam of interest. Katherine’s instincts clamored, telling her that he wanted to know who the esteemed marchioness would be. However, it would be against proper decorum to question an earl’s daughter on the matter. “Proper Decorum” appeared to be his middle name.

  He glanced over her shoulder toward Pru.

  “Miss Burwick is acting as my assistant in this matter. She is engaged to the Marquess of Annandale.”

  It was difficult to tell, given the miniscule changes in his expression, but Katherine thought that he looked a bit relieved.

  Emma whined and pawed at the butler’s polished boot. When he glanced down, stoic, she wagged her tail and tilted her head as if to show off her pink bow.

  “Is Lady Bath at home?” Katherine asked again. She half feared this was a waste of time.

  Fortunately, the butler took a small step back into the foyer and said, “This way. May I take your pelisse, milady?”

  Katherine unbuttoned it quickly and handed it over. She followed suit with her muff and warm fur-trimmed jockey cap. As she undressed, Emma tugged on the leash, attempting to pull Katherine farther into the house. Fortunately, she had the lead firml
y looped around her wrist. Emma wouldn’t steal anything today, try though she might.

  With his arms piled with their outerwear, the butler instructed a passing footman no more than fourteen years old to show them to the room where Grandma Bath awaited. The young man led them to a cozy parlor on the second floor. The walls, surprisingly plain, were an inoffensive shade of cream that matched the furniture. As Emma crouched to jump onto one pristine cushion, Katherine lunged to catch her, dropping the leash.

  Her haggard footfalls trampled the footman’s announcement of their arrival. Grandma Bath, standing over an enormous open trunk set beneath the window, turned just as Emma wriggled from Katherine’s grasp and knocked into a delicate hip-high vase set next to the chair. Katherine tripped over her feet and landed on the floor. The vase thunked against her rear as it fell, unharmed. Her front and forearms smarted from the impact.

  Grandma Bath let out a loud harrumph. “Still clumsy, I see.”

  Katherine sighed. By searching for certain clues in her investigations, she had garnered an unwarranted reputation for clumsiness. “I am not—”

  Emma, concerned, trotted over and started licking Katherine’s face. She clamped her lips shut to ward away her dog’s tongue.

  “Hugo, fetch Katherine a caudle from the kitchen to help her mend.”

  Warm wine mixed with egg yolks, honey and saffron? Katherine had never understood how that was supposed to fix her ailments. If anything, she expected it to make her violently ill.

  Fending off Emma with one hand, she said, “No need. I’m fit as a fiddle. If someone will remove the vase from my backside so I don’t break it, I will happily rise.”

  The footman performed that chore, but when she managed to get her feet beneath her after securing Emma’s lead once more, she found the young man red in the face from contained laughter. A flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks, but she pretended not to be bothered.

  “I know what will cure those lumps!” Grandma Bath turned and rummaged in the trunk. This close to the chest, Katherine peered over the old woman’s shoulder and found that it contained shelf after shelf of carefully arranged stoppered bottles no bigger than her palm. Each appeared to have been unwrapped from the white handkerchiefs now wedged between the glass containers to ensure they didn’t break.