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ONCE TILDA AND I HAD eaten enough to feel satisfied, I noted that despite the fact that the others had begun to talk quietly amongst themselves, every one of them continued to cast surreptitious glances our way. At length, Lady Montford asked if we would like anything else to eat.
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“I’d like a bit more wine, please.” Tilda held up her empty glass, a rather silly grin on her face.
Lady Montford flung a questioning gaze at me.
“We have both had plenty, ma’am, thank you,” I said again.
A moment later, his lordship spoke. “So. What exactly has become of my pistol, young lady?”
After dusting the few remaining crumbs of bread from my fingers, I said, “Tilda and I will be glad to show you where it is, sir.”
Ardeth instantly objected. “Surely you will not go anywhere with her, John! She and her maid have clearly set a trap!” She spat out the word ‘maid’ with disdain.
“Ardeth, please.” Lady Montford reached to place a comforting hand upon the actress’s arm. “You appear to be quite overset, my dear. Do allow Miss Abbott to explain.”
Lord Montford’s countenance darkened. “If you have shot and killed a clergyman, Miss Abbott, I can assure you there will be consequences. As there will be for theft!”
“It was the clergyman what pinched yer’ gun, sir,” Tilda interjected, “and he ain’t dead. But, he was a-moanin’ and . . .”
“Tilda!” I rose. “Sir, your weapon is located a goodly distance from here and I can assure you, that wing of the house is quite cool. You, and whoever else might want to come along, might wish to don a wrap.”
I secretly hoped Ardeth would declare her intent to come along. I was not yet convinced that she and the clergyman had not colluded with one another to commit both murders at Montford Hall. Moreover, I truly believed I would have my answer once I removed the cleric’s robe from the man’s head. Ardeth would either be convincingly shocked when she learned the young man was her stepson, or mayhap, something more telling, such as a speaking look, or perhaps, even a word or two, would pass between them. Either outcome would provide the answer I sought.
Instead Lady Montford rose to her feet. “I shall accompany you, John.”
His lordship would have none of it. “You will remain right here, Clara! I shall not allow you to be present where danger lurks. If this unknown clergyman is, indeed, in possession of my pistol, there is no saying what might take place. I shall not allow it,” he declared firmly.
To my surprise, Ardeth sprang to her feet. “Then, I shall go along. It was my maid who was slain, and Tony was a dear friend of mine. I am most curious to learn what sort of fiend took both their lives, whoever he, or she, might be.” She flung a scornful look my direction.
Though I flinched, I made no reply.
“If Ardeth is going,” Lady Montford declared, “then I am, as well. You will not put me off, John. Ardeth, shall we retrieve our wraps? I have no doubt it is quite chilly . . . wherever we might be off to.”
At that juncture, Lyttleton and also Mr. Egerton took a step forward. “We shall also come along,” Lyttleton said. “If the killer is, indeed, possessed of a pistol, he cannot take us all out with one shot.”
“Safety in numbers, and all that rot,” mumbled Egerton.
“Ardeth and I shall be right back,” Lady Montford announced to the room in general. When her husband ducked his head and also made for the door, she added, “You’ve no need to accompany us above stairs, John. Ardeth and I are perfectly capable of . . .”
“I am not accompanying you, my dear. I am off to my study to procure another firearm. As you well know, I possess more than one.”
Grinning, Mr. Egerton said, “Ah, quite glad I agreed to come along. Wouldn’t want to miss a full-blown shoot-out. Could serve as a capital idea for a play. One never knows where one might uncover a new plot idea, don’t you know?”
Busy gathering up her tangle of blue yarn, Carlotta also rose clutching a mish-mash of needles and half knitted muffler in one hand. “Perhaps we should also go along, Emma. And you, as well, Helen. We’ve not had a bit of entertainment since we arrived at Montford Hall. This could very well prove to be a diverting drama.”
Emma and Helen were already on their feet. As all three ladies trouped toward the door, I heard Helen say, “Do you believe this to be play-acting, Carlotta, or will there be an actual gun-battle?”
I did not hear Carlotta’s reply as she and the other ladies had already disappeared into the corridor. Apart from Tilda and myself left behind in the drawing room, the only other occupants included Gaston, still standing stoically near the sideboard and Mr. Nordstrom, who’d been dozing by the fire the entire time and was still doing so. One arm had fallen to the floor; his unlit pipe lying mere inches beyond his grasp. Not so much as the rumble of a snore or the hint of a cough had escaped him. He lay so very still, for a scant second I wondered if he had not expired in his sleep and, as yet, no one had noticed. Just as I was about to direct Tilda to lean down to the man’s chest and listen for a heartbeat, she instead said, in a rather imperious tone, “I fancy a bit more wine, if you please, Gaston.”
I, having moved a few steps away, was now seated in the chair Lady Montford had vacated. “I daresay you have had quite enough strong drink, Tilda.” Glancing towards the butler, who had not yet made a move to fulfill my maid’s request, I said, “However, a spot of tea would be most welcome, whilst we wait for the others to return.”
The white-haired retainer nodded. “Very well, miss.”
I turned back to Tilda. “Your presence in the clergyman’s chamber is also required, Tilda. It will not do for your senses to be dulled by wine. You have spent far more time with the clergyman than I. I can scarcely answer everyone’s questions. To consume more wine would only cause you to nod off as old Mr. Nordstrom has done. By the by, I’d like you to listen to the man’s chest to determine if he is . . . still breathing.”
While Gaston was seeing to the tea, Tilda did as I asked, even going so far as to lay her head upon Mr. Nordstrom’s chest. At length she looked up, her brows drawn together.
“I don’t hear nothin’, miss. I can’t tell if he’s alive or . . . dead.”
Alarm gripped me as I sprang from my chair. Dear Lord, please do not let Mr. Nordstrom also be . . .
I, too, leant over the aging actor’s reclining body.
And, I, too, heard nothing.
“Gaston!” I cried as I whirled around and promptly bumped into the butler’s stout form as he carried a tray bearing two cups brim full of tea. Me jostling the butler caused him to lose his balance and also his grip on the burden he carried. From where Tilda stood before the fire, she made a lunge to catch the tray as it flew from his hands, but her attempt was to no avail.
“Oh-h!” cried she, springing away as the falling tray and two cups of tea rained down upon her head.
“So sorry, miss,” Gaston replied, attempting to right himself as tray and cups fell to the hearth with a clatter. A good deal of tea splashed onto the skirt of my gown, as well as Tilda’s, whilst both cups shattered to pieces on the hearth.
Springing back, I promptly fell onto the lap of the sleeping Mr. Nordstrom. “Oh, do forgive me, sir!” I cried, my head turning towards him. However, the man upon whose lap I sat made no sound and did not move. Lurching to my feet, I spotted Tilda making a valiant effort to brush droplets of tea from her skirt as Gaston knelt to pick up shards of broken cups as well as the remains of his lordship’s brandy snifter that had also shattered a bit ago when he roughly snatched my arm.
“Gaston!” I cried, then not waiting for him to finish his task, or request that he perform another, that of checking for signs of life in old Mr. Nordstrom, I instead raced to the sideboard to pour myself a fresh cup of tea. All I truly needed at the moment were several gulps of a strong beverage to calm my nerves.
I should have known I would not find strong tea in any teapot at Montford Hall. Everything here was far too watered down.
Except . . . death.