Eugenia pointed to the broken lock and doorframe. “And did Mr. Thomas break into this room, or did someone else break in and he caught them in the act?”
“I recognize the design on the knife handle. It belonged to Major Ward. No one needed to bring a weapon with them.” Adam’s shoulders drooped.
“I saw it in here last night while we were searching the room. I didn’t think it necessary to take it away with us. Oh, Adam, this is so wrong. That poor man.” The cold outside the house filled her bones as if the walls had suddenly vanished.
Eugenia pressed herself against her husband to replace the sorrow with happier thoughts, but still, she needed to know. “Has he been dead long?”
“From what I know of game, he’s been dead for more than just the few minutes we were hunting for him. We couldn’t have prevented this, Genie.”
Eugenia gave Adam a shivered glance as she pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Who was missing from the church service? Because he must have been murdered while the bishop was telling us the Christ child came into the world to bring love and harmony. While we sang ‘Come thou long expected Jesus’ and ‘Angels from the Realms of Glory.’ How terrifying and ironic.”
“That leaves my parents out.” Adam shook his head.
The vision of his mother clinging to the duke and having hysterics before the first hymn would stay with Eugenia for a very long time. She wished the duchess hadn’t pointed out in a loud voice that they were spending Christmas with a murderer and were all liable to be killed in their beds. She’d nearly drowned out the musicians.
Eugenia huddled against her husband. “It also leaves out John, Caroline, Miss Janvier, and both of us. Everyone must have been watching John and the two of us nodding off during the sermon. Oh, why did we have to sit in the front where everyone could watch us but we couldn’t watch the doors?”
Adam held his wife closer, kissing the top of her head. “Oh, Genie, I’m so glad you’re as unlike my mother as a lady could be. Every day I thank God I met you.”
His words brought a smile to her lips. “I didn’t think you’d notice me. The orphaned ward of Sir Charles.”
“Oh, I noticed you immediately. You were the most beautiful, cleverest girl in the room. Although, once or twice, I have wished you were someone’s ward besides Sir Charles’s.”
“Well, this clever girl can’t think how to learn who slipped out during our Christmas service to kill Mr. Thomas. And I’m afraid that is our best hope of discovering the identity of Major Ward’s murderer.”
“We’ll ask the butler. He should know who left the room.”
“You ask him. I’ll ask the housekeeper. Between the two of them, we should get some idea of what occurred behind our backs.”
“And I’ll have him send up footmen to move the body and guard the room until we can search it again. This will give Mother another fit.”
Eugenia smiled as she knew he’d meant her to. “Then let’s hope she doesn’t find out for a long, long time.”
They shut the door with the now broken lock and splintered frame and went their separate ways. Eugenia found the housekeeper inspecting the main rooms after the maids tidied up.
“I need a quick word,” she said quietly.
The housekeeper nodded. “Would my sitting room do, your ladyship?”
“Yes. We’d better.”
Once they were ensconced in the housekeeper’s small, cozy sitting room, Eugenia said, “Tell me where everyone was sitting or standing in the ballroom for the service.”
The housekeeper stopped in the act of picking up some sewing. “What happened during the service?”
“Another murder. Major Ward’s man this time.”
The housekeeper, who Eugenia suspected had become more taciturn after years of working for the duchess, merely raised her eyebrows. “Oh, dear. Well, the maids were lined up on my right. Behind them was the cook’s staff. Cook was to my left, and then your lady’s maid and then the duchess’. The stable hands were lined up behind the male house staff.”
“Everyone was there for the entire service?”
“Oh, yes, milady. They wouldn’t dare sneak out. Not by me.”
“Did anyone leave at all?”
The housekeeper’s needle paused in midair. “Sir Charles Dawson had a coughing fit and left. Miss Wilton left but she came back in just a few minutes later looking white as a sheet. I remember wondering if she was ill.”
Eugenia nodded. “Did Sir Charles return?”
“I don’t think so, but I saw him in the hallway after service ended.”
“Did anyone else leave?”
“No. The bishop gave a good sermon, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.” At least it was short for the bishop. A benefit, Eugenia guessed, of asking him to lead a service at the last moment. “Did you notice Mr. Thomas, Major Ward’s man, talking to anyone, servants or guests, at any time?”
“He seemed to know one of the musicians. They both jumped when they saw each other at breakfast, and later I noticed them whisper briefly in passing.”
“Which musician?”
“The young, dark-haired violinist. The other musicians call him Jock.” The housekeeper’s needle moved swiftly through the muslin.
“This group of musicians has played here before, haven’t they?”
“Yes, several times. This is only the second time Jock has played with them.”
But Jock and the other musicians had been in the front of the room behind the bishop playing throughout the service. And none of the musicians had left. Eugenia knew she’d have to check with someone who’d been in the ballroom at the beginning of the previous night’s festivities, but she suspected Jock was in the clear.
Eugenia left the housekeeper to her duties and returned to the main floor and searched among the guests. Finally, she found her Aunt Anna gossiping with other matrons.
“Where’s Uncle Charles?” Eugenia asked.
“Charles? Probably standing in front of a warm fire. The cold does make his bones ache.”
Eugenia checked the fires in the main rooms and then headed upstairs. She heard the argument before she turned the corner and saw the men who were raising their voices just outside Major Ward’s room. Uncle Charles and the footman charged with guarding the door.
When she drew near, Sir Charles Dawson spotted her and said, “Ah, Eugenia. Tell this stubborn man that I may enter this room. That’s a good niece.”
He tried to shift past the man before Eugenia said, “No. You may not.”
He turned on her, his face rigid with anger. “What?”
“Adam said no one is to enter. Unless the duke comes here and countermands him, you may not go in.”
“Is this the thanks I get for raising you?”
“Adam is my husband and commands my loyalty now.” Eugenia found she was standing toe to toe with her uncle. He’d grudgingly raised her, at least for a few years, but now with her marriage, she outranked him. He used her high station to impress others, but when dealing directly with Eugenia, he tried to ignore her rank. “Please, uncle. Rejoin the other guests.”
As he huffed and turned away, she added, “Why did you leave the Christmas service this morning?”
“Who says I did?”
“A number of people. I see you’re not coughing now.”
“If you must know, the bishop was boring me. I went to take a nap.”
“So you were in your room sleeping?” Her amazement seeped into her voice. “I’m surprised you’re not wrinkled.”
“Yes. I rose looking mussed, so I changed my shirt and vest. I didn’t want to look out of sorts for the Christmas feast, which I believe should be starting soon.” Uncle Charles held out his arm to escort her downstairs.
Blast. Christmas luncheon. And there was no way to refuse his arm without being rude. Eugenia nodded to the footman and said, “Please stay at your post until relieved. No one is to enter.”
Eugenia gave her uncle her arm and they went downstairs to eat.
The meal was as sedate and cheerless an affair as a Christmas luncheon in a full room could be. The room itself was made brighter by the sunshine streaming in the windows and reflecting off the blinding snow. Eugenia noticed Miss Wilton was clinging to the company of Lord John while looking pale and nervous. A champagne cork pop nearly made her jump out of her chair. When Robert Dawson approached her, she huddled closer to John. Robert looked baffled. John, the hero of Waterloo, looked like he wanted to get up and run away from this skirmish.
Eugenia was also baffled. Abigail Wilton had been discretely chasing Cousin Robert all day yesterday. After the meal was over and the guests began to scatter, Eugenia pulled Miss Wilton aside. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong? I don’t understand.” She tried backing up and ran into a wall. She glanced around and then sighed. There was no one in sight to interrupt them.
“You’re obviously frightened of something.”
“We have a murderer loose among us. Aren’t you frightened?” the girl pouted.
Pouted? Eugenia made a mental note to tell John to avoid entanglements with Miss Wilton and pushed on. “That’s a lovely gown. It brings out the vivid blue color of your eyes.”
Abigail Wilton gave a deep sigh. “Thank you. I discovered half way through the sermon that I’d dropped a spot of jam on my dress. I couldn’t have everyone seeing me like that. A soiled gown! So I went upstairs and changed into this.” She gave a little satisfied cat smile. “I hope Captain Hunter likes it.”
Oh, dear. The girl was sly and had bad judgment since she was involved with Major Ward and wandered off alone with a murderer on the loose. Eugenia’s mental warning to John grew sharper. “You’re avoiding Robert Dawson. Was he rude to you?”
“No. Mr. Dawson has been a gentleman.”
“Did something unpleasant happen when you left to change your gown?”
“Nothing. I saw nothing.” The girl’s cat smile grew larger and more self-satisfied as she walked away with her head held high.
Saw nothing? What did she see? Eugenia was still scowling in the direction Abigail Wilton had gone when Adam came up to her. “What is it?”
“Miss Wilton left the Christmas service and obviously saw something, but she won’t say what. And she changed her gown during the service.”
He scowled. “No one else left.”
“Uncle Charles did. And I found him before dinner trying to get into the major’s room again.”
Adam shut his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, Genie, no. He’s family.”
“Get John. We’re going through that room again. Now.”
This time, they emptied Ward’s trunks onto the floor. The brothers, with the help of a footman, pried at the tops and bottoms. Finally, they pried open a false bottom in one trunk and found papers neatly fitted in a thin layer.
Adam sat down and flipped through them. “Mother’s letters. Good grief. I can’t look at those.”
“You’ll have to,” John said. “At least enough to make sure they are Mother’s letters and not someone else’s correspondence in her envelopes.”
Adam glared at his brother and then looked at the next item in the pile. “Sir Charles’ deed.”
“He’ll be so relieved you found it,” Eugenia said, kissing the top of her husband’s head.
“Letters from Miss Wilton to some man,” John said, tossing the packet aside with a sound of disgust.
“Reports in French on British troop movements and ship movements from Miss Janvier and Mr. Thomas,” Adam said, scanning the small, densely written messages.
“And Jock,” Eugenia added, sorting through what her husband set aside. “His name is really Jacques. That explains the surprise when the musician encountered Mr. Thomas.”
“Ward was a double spy,” John said, sitting down heavily and then glancing through the messages Adam handed him. “The swine. It’s a good thing he’s dead.”
Eugenia stared at the carpet beneath where Thomas’s body had lain and then took two steps backwards. “How will we ever get the blood out? It splattered all over. On the floor and everywhere.”
“We’ll have to sell the carpet to a second hand dealer,” Adam said, not looking up from reading his mother’s letters with raised eyebrows.
“But it’s so odd. The blood shot to the sides but not in the middle.”
John looked over. “That’s because the killer stood right in front of him. Where you’re standing now.”
Eugenia’s eyes widened as she jumped back. “So his vest—or her dress—was covered with blood.”
“Probably.” John scowled at her. “What are you thinking, Genie?”
“Uncle Charles changed his vest between breakfast and luncheon during the service. Come on, both of you. We need to find it. If that doesn’t have blood on it, we’ll have to find Miss Wilton’s dress.”
“Probably spilled something on it at breakfast. Your uncle certainly packs it away,” John said.
“He said he wrinkled it taking a nap,” Eugenia told them.
“Well, he’s not going to admit to being a glutton,” John murmured.
Carrying the papers with him, Adam led the way to the room shared by Sir Charles and Lady Dawson. After a quick rap on the door, the trio rushed into the room only to find a startled Sir Charles holding a blood-stained vest and shirt in front of the blazing hearth.
Whirling around, Charles threw both incriminating items into the flames. Then he stumbled back, a relieved look on his face.
“No!” Eugenia cried and started toward the fire. But John was quicker, leaping forward and grabbing the poker. He fished both pieces of clothing, now smoldering, free from the inferno.
Sir Charles wasn’t finished. With an angry roar, he rushed to stop John, but Adam pushed him back. Eugenia watched in terror as the two men grappled. John, with a few stomps of his boots, put out the burning clothes. Then he stepped into the shoving match to help his brother.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Eugenia cried out, tears running down her cheeks. Her aunt and cousins would be ruined by his actions. “Uncle, how could you?”
Charles gave up the fight and sank onto a chair. “You know all, don’t you?”
Eugenia, now that she knew the worst, wanted answers. Something had to explain his uncle’s rash behavior. “Yes. But why kill Mr. Thomas? He didn’t want your deed.”
“He caught me looking for it.” He covered his face with his hands. “I couldn’t have anyone spreading the rumor that I’d lost the manor, even for a short while. I’d be ruined. How could my children make advantageous marriages?”
“We need to take you to the duke,” Eugenia said, clasping her arms over her chest. “He’ll have to decide how to proceed.”
“Oh, yes, you’ve come out of this all right. You’re already married,” Charles snapped at her. “And to think of the time and expense I used to make certain you’d secure an advantageous match.”
“None of your plans made any difference,” Adam said. “I would have chosen Eugenia no matter what.”
Eugenia looked up into his eyes and saw such love her heart melted. She threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, dearest.”
They clung together until John cleared his throat.
All four of them walked in a close group downstairs to the study, where they sent a footman with a note requesting the duke’s presence. When he entered, he immediately asked, “Now, tell me. What has happened?”
While they explained everything, Adam and John produced the papers and the half-charred clothing. Sir Charles sat in silence, staring at the rug.
Only when his sons finished the sordid tale did the duke look at Sir Charles. “You killed two men. What do you say for yourself?” he asked.
Eugenia didn’t think the duke had ever sounded as much like God on his throne as he did at that moment.
Sir Charles said, “Major Ward was a blackmailer, a thief, and an unprincipled scourge. He deserved to die, but I am sorry about his man. He surprised me, and I acted before I thought. The dagger was the first thing that came to hand.”
“You used my letter opener to stab Ward, making me a suspect in his death,” the duke said.
“I’m sorry. I saw it lying there and thought, just the thing I need. Anyone could have taken it,” Sir Charles said in apologetic tones.
“Did Miss Wilton see you murder Mr. Thomas?” Eugenia asked.
“Who?”
“Major Ward’s man.” You’ve killed a man and don’t even know his name, Eugenia thought with disgust.
“I ran into her as I was returning to my room to change my shirt and vest. I was blood-splattered. Her eyes grew wide and she ran into her room. Then I heard the lock click. She must have been frightened, poor little thing.”
Eugenia studied her uncle as she pictured Miss Wilton keeping silent when Eugenia questioned her. The poor little thing was probably planning to blackmail Uncle Charles once everyone could leave snowbound Ivey Manor.
“There’s something else, Father,” John said with anger. “We also just learned Ward spied for the French against us in the wars with Napoleon.”
“There. You see,” Sir Charles added.
“You may have a case for his death as a traitor, Sir Charles, but none at all for his man.” The duke examined the papers and the scorched clothing. “Here is the deed to your manor. Don’t put it up as collateral again.” The duke held out the paper. Sir Charles snatched it out of the duke’s hand and pressed it to his chest.
“It will be days before the magistrate can come here, and it is Christmas. I will put it out that you have taken ill while you remain in your room with a footman outside. Your meals will be brought to you. As soon as the way is clear, you and your family will leave here and never return. We will not know you in society.”
“Not even my dear niece?”
I’m dear only when I’m useful, Eugenia thought. Aloud she said, “Not even me.”
Sir Charles looked beaten. “And the magistrate?”
“Will be told all. It will be up to him to decide how to proceed. Now, go. Get out of my sight.”
Sir Charles rose and bowed to the duke. Then he walked up to Eugenia. “Try not to be too hard on your uncle.”
Eugenia turned her face away, biting her lower lip.
Head down, shoulders slumped, Sir Charles walked out of the room, followed by two footmen.
“Eugenia, I’m sorry you had to witness this,” the duke said.
“Better that I know the truth. But you needn’t worry. I won’t have a fit of the vapors.”
The duke looked relieved. “Very well. How are we entertaining our guests today?”
No matter her feelings on discovering her uncle was a murderer, Eugenia knew she was in training to be a duchess and the well-being and entertainment of many people depended on her. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Charades this afternoon, and dancing after supper tonight. Tomorrow I thought we could have a musical evening featuring our guests.”
“Excellent. I’ll tell the duchess we’ve determined it’s safe without mentioning names. Otherwise, she’ll get hysterical every time anyone so much as mentions Dawson, and that is a worse punishment than any man should have to endure. Go on. I’ll write up a report for the magistrate and keep it in my safe with the evidence, just in case.”
“John, do you want to give Miss Wilton her letters?” Eugenia asked, curious to see how he’d respond.
“Knowing she could fall for a blackmailer like Ward,” John said with a grimace, “I’ve gone off Miss Wilton even more than before. Would you mind returning them, Genie?”
“I’ll take charge of the duchess’s letters,” the duke said, putting them in his inside coat pocket.
Eugenia smiled and took her husband’s arm. “Come along. Before we return Miss Wilton’s letters, I shall be looking for a handsome man and a sprig of mistletoe.”
“Well, you’re half way there already.” Adam put his arm around his wife’s waist and guided her out. “And since I missed my sleep last night, I believe I’ll take a nap and skip charades. Care to join me?”
“Oh, yes. A nap sounds wonderful.”
Once they departed the study, giggles could be heard echoing down the hall.