A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(39)
“Perhaps Liam took it with him.”
“Perhaps.”
Gage turned his head sideways to look at me, but I kept my eyes trained on the deceased maid before me—Mairi—searching for the explanation, the anomaly. But I feared it wasn’t to be found here.
“What’s bothering you about this?” he asked.
I finally looked up at him.
He offered me a gentle smile. “I know that brilliant brain of yours. Your artist’s eye. Your instinct. And I can tell when something has you flustered. So, what is it?”
I sighed. “You mean, other than the obvious?”
“Of course. Murder—whether suspected or proven—is never pleasant.”
I’d noted that the longer we talked, the more sober he’d become. Had that not been true, I might have brushed his question aside. But while I still wouldn’t trust him to carry me steadily down the stairs, I could tell his intellect had not deserted him, and there was no risk he wouldn’t recall this conversation tomorrow.
“It simply doesn’t make sense,” I blurted. “What was Mairi doing here? And why? If it was simple curiosity, then how did she end up poisoned? And if it wasn’t, if she was sent here to make a point, then how did she make it to this room without raising Liam’s alarm?” I shook my head in frustration. “She must have experienced some symptoms before reaching the gallery. Cramping or nausea, an elevated heartbeat, sweating, something! It’s highly improbable she just dropped dead without any idea of what was happening.”
“Are we certain she died here?”
It was a logical question, and I gave it due consideration. “I’m sure you already spotted the drops of blood on the floor and wall, there and there.” I pointed. “And there may be more underneath the body. Her hands are covered with it, as would be expected if she lifted them to her face to try to find out what was happening. The pattern of the blood pooling on the floor and onto her bodice seems consistent with the way it would have flowed from the position she was found lying in.” I glanced in both directions down the gallery. “You didn’t spy any blood droplets leading away from the body?”
“No, but whoever moved her here might have cleaned them up.”
“True.” I clamped my lips together, reviewing everything I had said for flaws. “But I still think this is where she died.”
Gage nodded, trusting my judgment. “Then we have a whole slew of questions that need to be answered. Starting with how she gained access to the manor.”
Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, indicating the return of the butler and the second footman, I knew we hadn’t much time for further private consult. “Has Barbreck been informed?”
“I told Wheaton not to bother. He was already as drunk as an emperor when I left the library. I daresay he’s insensible by now. We’ll inform him in the morning.” He grimaced. “And what a pleasant conversation that will be.”
Considering the ferocious headaches and hangovers I’d expected all of the gentlemen—and even some of the ladies—to have, I’d already been anticipating a fraught morning best spent in the garden or the long gallery, far away from the grumbling and growling. But it looked like that was no longer going to be possible.
“I’ll make certain Wheaton secures Miss MacCowan’s body someplace cool, and then take Anderley with me to uncover the likeliest path of her entry and speak to what servants we can. Perhaps one of them saw something or knows where we can find her alleged beau, Liam. The rest will have to wait until the morning.”
“Good. And I have Emma to attend to,” I replied, wondering how I was going to settle myself before then. She could sense even the smallest hint of anxiety and would then begin to fuss rather than feed.
I took a deep, calming breath, stepping back from the body as Wheaton and Callum drew nearer. “Mairi’s father will have to be notified. As well as the Campbells.”
“Tomorrow,” Gage asserted and pulled me in close, draping a protective arm around me. I turned my head into his broad chest and shoulders, drawing strength from his warmth and solidity. After one final inhalation of his scent, which always seemed to steady me, I stepped away. Then with a nod of farewell to the men, I slipped away in the direction Miss Ferguson had come and gone.
Exiting into the corridor, I discovered an opening to a second set of stairs directly to my right. I realized that these must lead down to the staircase across the hall from Gage’s assigned bedchamber. Then this corridor led to the nursery and the governess’s room, as well as several other bedchambers. If so, then perhaps Miss Ferguson utilized the long gallery as some sort of shortcut. But to where?
I continued to puzzle over this question as I descended the stairs, confirming their position inside the manor. However, the faint sound of a baby’s cry soon drove everything from my mind. Emma had awakened early, and it sounded like settling her to feed was going to be difficult enough without me adding my worries to the matter.
Chapter 12
One blessed consequence of motherhood, and being awakened at odd hours to nurse, was that when I did get to actually sleep, I fell into it faster and more deeply than I’d ever done so my entire life. There was something incredibly soothing about cradling my child skin to skin and knowing that I was meeting her needs. Some nights I sat holding her long after she’d fallen back into a milk-induced slumber simply to study her tiny little face. But once I’d settled her in her cradle, I would stumble back to bed and collapse, barely making it under the covers before I drifted back to sleep.