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WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO old Mr. Torbitt?
I knew the gentlemens’ bedchamber and their belongings had also been relocated the previous evening and the gentlemen were now situated adjacent to we ladies, yet, this afternoon, the aging actor Mr. Torbitt had not made it as far as his bedchamber. Instead, his prone body lay face down upon the stone cold floor mere steps beyond our door and several feet from his!
Rather than take the time to fling open our bedchamber door to fetch Tilda, I rushed towards Mr. Torbitt’s lifeless body, at the same moment calling for my maid. Reaching Mr. Torbitt’s side, I knelt down beside him, thinking that if Tilda had not yet emerged from our room she did not know the older man had collapsed a few feet further down the corridor.
“Tilda!” I shouted.“Come quick!”
When I reached to touch Mr. Torbitt’s arm, I noted that his eyes were open, but they appeared to be unseeing, which caused a sinking feeling to wash over me. Dear God! What had happened to him?
“Tilda!” I called again.
Where was she? That I had not come upon her as I made my way up the tower staircase told me she was still within our bedchamber, having not yet made her way back down to the drawing room. If she had exited our room, she would have surely noticed Mr. Torbitt lying here on the floor, unconscious.
“Til-da!” I called once more. Again, no answer.
Leaning further over Mr. Torbitt’s motionless body, I placed my ear close to his nose in an attempt to determine if he was still breathing.
Feeling no breath upon my cheek, but my own now coming in fits and starts, I sat back on my heels. It was then I noticed . . . the fireplace tool lying a few feet beyond the old man’s head.
Oh, Dear Lord! Had the killer struck again . . .?
Springing to my feet, I reached for the poker and had only just picked it up when I heard voices coming from behind me in the corridor.
In an instant, both Ardeth and Mr. Lyttleton were upon me.
“Good God, what have you done now, Miss Abbott?” demanded Mr. Lyttleton. Hastening forward, his brow furrowed with concern for his friend lying at my feet upon the floor.
“I have done nothing, sir! I only just . . .”
Because both of them had cast curious glances at the poker in my hand, I quickly thrust the heavy tool from me. “You cannot think that I . . .?” The metal rod hit the floor with a clatter. “I only just found Mr. Torbitt lying here . . . I did not strike him!”
Ardeth was already on her knees beside her dear friend (and former lover). “He is dead, Miles.” She looked up. “Tony is dead!”
Mr. Lyttleton rather ungallantly shoved her aside and also fell to his knees beside the lifeless body of their friend and fellow actor.
Ardeth pulled herself to her feet, her countenance a thundercloud as she aimed a hateful glare at me. “What did you do to him?” she cried.
“I did nothing! I only just came upon him, the same as you did, lying here on the floor exactly as you see him now. Then, when I . . . when I discovered that he was . . . not breathing; I spotted this . . .” A hand indicated the poker. “Lying near his head. Then you and Mr. Lyttleton arrived. That is the whole truth. I swear it!”
“I do not believe you,” Ardeth sneered. “It is clear to me and to Miles, that you killed Tony. No doubt, out of jealousy!”
“Jealousy? That is absurd! Why would I be jeal. . .?”
Mr. Lyttleton had already turned over the body, felt for a pulse, and finding none, reached to close his friend’s glazed eyes. Rising, he said, “Ardeth, you’d best summon our hosts; both Lord and Lady Montford should be here. I will keep an eye on Miss Abbott.”
I blanched. “You’ve no need to keep an eye on me, sir! I have committed no crime! Besides, where would I go? Out into the snowstorm to run . . . where?”
Ardeth had already vanished.
“You’d best tell me exactly what happened here, Miss Abbott.”
“I just told you all that happened, sir.” Tears had begun to gather in my eyes, quite against my will, of course, but there was nothing I could do to halt them. “I was merely coming up to our suite in search of Tilda but before I entered our bedchamber, I spotted poor Mr. Torbitt lying here on the floor . . . not moving. I knelt down just as you and Ardeth did, to . . . to determine whether or not he was . . . alive. Then when . . .” I sniffed. “When I saw that he was not, I spotted the poker lying a few feet from him. I swear to you, sir; that is the whole truth. I have no reason to wish Mr. Torbitt ill, and I certainly never . . . ever wished him dead.”
“Why did Ardeth accuse you of being jealous? What were you jealous of in regard to Tony?”
“You will have to ask her. I have no clue why she said such a thing. Please, sir, might I go to our bedchamber and fetch Tilda? I cannot imagine what is keeping her. I fear she may have taken ill.”
Mr. Lyttleton moved a step away from me but before replying, his brows again drew together. I watched as he bent to pick up something, which he held out to me. “Does this belong to you, Miss Abbott?”
I glanced at the object in his hand. A narrow, green silk ribbon. “Oh-h! Oh, dear God! Tilda!”
I flew past Mr. Lyttleton and rushed into the ladies’ bedchamber.
“Tilda! Tilda, where are you?”
Lyttleton followed me, the green ribbon, the very one I had tied about the knot at the nape of my little maid’s neck only this morning, dangling forlornly from his fingers.
Within our bedchamber, Tilda was nowhere to be found.
* * *
LATER THAT SAME AFTERNOON, belowstairs . . .
Everyone, including Lord and Lady Montford, although not Tilda, was again gathered in the drawing room. The hour was late, tea time had long since passed, noticeable due to the absence of tea, or cakes, or anything else generally associated with the small afternoon repast. The fire that formerly blazed on the hearth had begun to wane. Outdoors, the sky was darkening; although since morning, the entire day had been dark and cloudy. Only the ticking clock on the mantelpiece kept us apprised of the time and its hands now indicated that the dinner hour would soon be upon us.
The gentlemen all stood clustered a bit apart from we ladies, seated in a knot talking quietly amongst themselves. Everyone’s countenance now riddled with angst, we all sat before the fire, most of us wringing our hands together with apprehension, and fear.
“It is abundantly clear now there is a killer in our midst!” declared Ardeth. “First my maid, and now Tony.” She cast an angry glance my way. “And I believe we all know exactly who the killer is!”
“Ardeth! What a horrid thing to say!” declared Lady Montford.
“I have done nothing!” I cried again, once more feeling tears of anger gather in my eyes. “I do agree there appears to be a . . . murderer in our midst, but it is certainly not me! Furthermore, we have no inkling what happened to Tilda!”
“Indeed, at this juncture, we have no inkling as to the whereabouts of your friend, Miss Abbott, nor of anyone’s guilt,” calmly stated Lady Montford, who now seemed to possess the only voice of reason in the room.
As I had throughout the long afternoon, I still felt far too distraught to say anything.
Helen spoke up. “Who could be methodically killing us one-by-one?” she inquired plaintively. “And who amongst us will be the next to die?”
“Where might we go that is safe?” asked Emma, her tone worried. Scooting her chair closer to Carlotta’s, she reached for her hand. The two friends laced their fingers together, their shoulders touching.
“So . . .” began Ardeth, still glaring at me. “Where do you suppose your dear friend Miss Matilda has got off to, Miss Abbott? Perhaps the pair of you plotted Tony’s death! She left the drawing room with him, then soon afterward, you followed. Did the pair of you conspire to meet up in order to kill him? Is that the way of it?”
“Ardeth, you will cease badgering Miss Abbott,” Lady Montford insisted. “We all know you are distraught over Tony’s death, but perhaps his heart simply gave out, or he suffered a seizure of some sort.”
“A seizure brought on by a blow to his head with an iron poker!” Ardeth scoffed, again glaring at me.
“Yes, well; there . . . is that,” Lady Montford conceded. “I confess I clean forgot that . . . the murder weapon was found.” She looked my way. “It does rather lead one to believe that someone might have been lying in wait for him.” To her credit, and my relief, she did not utter my name.
Still, in my defense, I said, “If you recall, I left the room after Mr. Torbitt and Tilda departed, not before. And, neither their excursion, nor mine, was previously scheduled. It merely . . . coincided.”
Lady Montford chewed on her lower lip. “Have you, indeed, told us everything that took place in the corridor above stairs, Miss Abbott?”
All eyes again turned toward me. “Yes, ma’am, I have. I merely went up to my, to our . . .”
Of a sudden, I recalled the real reason I had left the drawing room to hurry up to our bedchamber, and, in truth, it was not to locate Tilda. I went in search of my notes to see if I had set down the name of the play that Lady Montford’s sister had appeared in the night she disappeared. But, of course, I did not wish to broach that topic now, not in the midst of yet . . . another murder investigation. Although it was not a true inquiry since no lawman was present, or had been sent for, and with the snowstorm still going strong, no constable or detective was likely to be summoned any time soon. “I-I merely went in search of Tilda,” I insisted. “It seemed she had been gone quite a spell. I hoped she had not . . . fallen ill.”
“No doubt, a complete fabrication,” Ardeth insisted.
“Ardeth, please! Do go on, Miss Abbott.”
“I truly have told you all that took place, ma’am.” I shook my head, my tone exasperated. “I never made it to my, to our, bedchamber. Instead I spotted Mr. Torbitt lying on the floor between our room and the gentlemen’s suite. I did not resume my search for Tilda until Mr. Lyttleton found her hair ribbon . . .” my chin began to tremble and I reached to cover my mouth with a hand whilst sniffing back tears, “The r-ribbon that had been in Tilda’s hair was lying on the floor; afterward, I-I ran into our room but Tilda was not there!” Of a sudden, I sprang to my feet.
“Where are you going now, Miss Abbott?” Lady Montford cried with surprise.
“Tilda is missing! We should all be looking for her! She could be lying dead somewhere, or . . . or injured, and . . . and if not dead, then, certainly she is cold! This house is freezing!”
Helen reached to clasp my arm. “Lord Montford has already sent a pair of footmen to search for Tilda.” She glanced at Lady Montford. “Is that not right, ma’am?”
“Indeed, it is.” The older woman nodded. “My husband’s men are even now searching for your maid, Miss Abbott. You’ve nothing to . . .”
“Her maid!” exclaimed Ardeth. “I knew it! You lied to me, you, you . . . murderer! Tilda is not your personal companion, she is your maid!” She sprang from her chair with such fervency that the motion nearly caused her elaborate wig to topple from her head.
She reached up to grasp it even as Lady Montford caught hold of her arm. “Ardeth, please, contain yourself. I am certain Miss Abbott meant no harm . . . do calm yourself, my dear.”
Her generous chest heaving, Ardeth perched on the edge of a chair but the angry accusation in her eyes remained fixed in place. “I still say you were jealous of the attention Tony was showing your pretty little maid and you killed him out of revenge. You were probably so jealous and angry that you also took your maid’s life! Here is our killer! I declare I shall not sleep in the same room with a killer tonight! I shall not!”
“Perhaps you would like to go up to your room now, Ardeth, and have a nice lie down,” Lady Montford suggested. “You do seem unduly overwrought. Carlotta, would you . . .”
Ardeth jerked from her ladyship’s grasp and folding both arms across her ample chest, glared at me. “I am not overwrought! I am incensed that I am the only person here who can actually see the truth! Miss Abbott is a killer and I insist she be taken away at once or . . . at least, confined to a chamber far, far away, from the rest of us! In fact, I insist upon it!” Turning in her chair, she shouted, “Lord Montford! Come here, at once! And, the rest of you gentlemen, as well. Come here, I say!”
Her head shaking, Lady Montford reached to pinch her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. When her husband moved to stand behind her chair, she reached a hand up to clasp his. “Lady Westcott is overset, John. Do see if you can calm her.”
During the next quarter hour, the entire scene was repeated; Ardeth accusing me of all manner of crimes, my tears flowing unchecked. In the end, nothing had changed. Tony was still dead, Tilda was still missing, Ardeth was still angry. I was more overset than I could ever recall being.
At length, several housemaids appeared with covered dishes, which they placed upon a middling-sized table that, before we all arrived in the drawing room this morning, had already been set with dinner service in preparation for our evening meal to be taken here in the drawing room. Mere moments before we all trouped across the spacious chamber this evening to take seats around the table, Gaston, the butler appeared and leaned down to speak quietly with Lord Montford.
As the butler spoke, his lordship nodded several times, then he moved to speak to me. My breath caught in my throat before his lordship opened his mouth to say a word, then what he said caused my heart to sink to my feet all over again.
“I have just been informed, Miss Abbott, that my footmen were unable to locate your maid nor uncover any clues as to her whereabouts. Please accept my condolences. It appears the girl has . . . vanished.”
I did not feel well enough to consume even a bite, but being uncertain as to what the future, specifically, my future, held; I decided it would be wise to eat something, if for no other reason than to keep up my strength should I either be banished from the house altogether, or confined to a bedchamber on the opposite side of it; alone, cold, and without company of any sort. Aware that lack of sustenance could also cause my wits to go begging, I forced myself to eat all that was placed before me, which, in all honesty, was not a great deal. More soup, the sparse ingredients swimming in grease; along with bread that had already grown stale and tasteless.
At the close of the meal, Lady Montford rose to calmly address her guests. “Once again, I do fervently beg everyone’s pardon for the lack of . . . diversity in tonight’s . . . dinner. Unfortunately, I have been informed by my housekeeper that our . . . storehouse of food is . . . well, in a word, we haven’t a great deal of anything left in the larder. I am so very sorry. Please believe me when I say this was never my intent when I invited you here.” She cast an anxious glance at her husband, seated at the top of the table, she standing around the corner to his left.
“Neither my husband nor I were prepared for all that has transpired since you, our treasured friends, arrived. We are both so very sorry for all that you are being asked to endure.” She paused to draw breath before continuing. “Tony’s unfortunate and certainly, unexpected, death is merely one more trial that, I fear, we must all bear . . . together. My husband assures me that once the ice thaws and the roads clear, the authorities will be brought in and the culprit soon brought to justice, but . . . until then, I beseech you to each offer up a prayer, yes, a prayer, that the remainder of us remain safe and unharmed. Believe me when I say that my husband and I are doing all in our power to . . .”
“To what?” cried an irate Ardeth, Lady Westcott. “To keep us safe? How can we be certain of that? Are we to each travel up and down the stairs in pairs? Are we to each be assigned a personal maid, or a footman, to escort us to and from the necessary? What exactly are you planning to do in order to ensure our safety, madam?”
“Oh, dear,” Lady Montford moaned, a hand flying to her breast. “John, say something!”
Lord Montford rose, an arm encircling his wife’s shoulders. “Lady Westcott, if you please. To shout at my wife will not help matters. I beg you all to return above stairs now. I shall have fresh buckets of coal sent up to warm your bedchambers for the night.”
“What about her?” Ardeth wagged a finger at me. “You do not expect us to sleep in the same room as Tony’s killer, do you?”
“Lady Westcott,” his lordship again addressed Ardeth. “Presently, no evidence points to Miss Abbott as being Tony’s killer. You must cease leveling unfounded accusations at her. As you know, Miss Abbott’s maid has also gone missing and we do not yet know why that young lady fled. It appears to me that she landed the fatal blow to Tony’s head. We must all now stand together . . .”
“Pish!” Ardeth leap to her feet. “Miss Abbott is clearly the killer and I insist that something be done about it!”
Lady Montford whispered a few words in her husband’s ear, after which that gentleman said, “My wife has kindly offered you the exclusive use of her bedchamber tonight, Lady Westcott. Will that suit?”
Because I was seated nearby, I also heard Lady Montford mutter, “I shall also offer her a generous dose of laudanum to help her sleep.”
Though my nerves were still on edge, I could not help the small measure of relief I felt as Ardeth huffed, then mumbled a reply in the affirmative, apparently mollified that she would not be forced to share a room with me, the murderer, that night. A few moments later, the entire company adjourned from the drawing room, each headed to our respective bedchambers for the long, cold night that stretched like a barren, and frozen, desert ahead of us.
On the way above stairs, Helen caught up to me. “I think you should know, Juliette, that last evening, Mr. Torbitt attempted to embrace me. I had to fight him off to make him cease harassing me!”
“Oh, Helen, I do wish you had spoken up earlier. The others should know of it.”
Helen shrugged. “I feared Ardeth would turn her wrath on me. She can be quite formidable when angry. Although, since I never left the drawing room this afternoon, I can hardly be accused of killing Tony.”
I had to agree with her. Only Tilda had left the drawing room this afternoon in Mr. Torbitt’s company. But had he attempted to embrace her and she hit him over the head with the poker? And now she was hiding somewhere within the huge house, cold, hungry, and frightened out of her wits because she had committed murder, and would surely be found out? And, no doubt, eventually hang for her crime?