least it may give her the comfort of seeing him still alive. I understand that tomorrow might have been too late?’
‘I am certain it would. I do not imagine he will last the night. I do not know if that will comfort her at all—I can only pray it will once her first terrible grief has abated.’
‘You must all be grieving,’ Jenny said. ‘You held him and he was conscious for a moment—did he say anything of importance?’
‘A message for his father only. Had he given me a name I should have sought the villain out at once—’
A terrible cry from Lucy broke into their conversation. They looked at one another. Lucy’s wild sobbing from upstairs must mean only one thing.
‘Your cousin...should you go up to them?’
‘Yes, please excuse me. Forgive me, this is a terrible experience for all of us.’
Jenny nodded. ‘I beg you do not think of us—go to your family. If Lucy needs me, I shall be here in the parlour.’
* * *
Adam had already said his farewells to his cousin, but it was obvious that Lucy was in great distress, as was his uncle. He sent for the housekeeper, who tried to persuade Lucy to go to bed, but she could not be persuaded for more than half an hour, flinging herself on the bed and holding Mark’s hand as if she would never let go. Eventually she was persuaded to leave her fiancé’s body, led away by the housekeeper to a bedroom where she could weep in grief and given a hot tisane to calm her nerves.
Mark’s father sat pale and still looking ill and Adam persuaded him, too, to seek his bed while the housekeeper did what was needful for his cousin. He looked down at Mark, a mixture of regret, pity and anger in his handsome face.
‘Forgive me that I could do nothing,’ he said with the ring of emotion in his voice. ‘You saved my life, Cousin, but I could not save yours. One thing I promise you—I shall not rest until your murderer is brought to justice.
Leaving his cousin’s room, he went downstairs to the parlour. Jenny looked at him, grief and pity in her face.
‘Lucy is distraught, of course, as your uncle and cousin—and you, of course—must be—’ She broke off as Hallam returned to the front parlour.
‘I have found our evidence,’ Hallam said a look of grim determination of his face. ‘Some shots broke a Chinese vase before entering the wall in the back parlour, the garden entrance to which is just beyond the entrance to the walled garden, where Paul was shooting a rat. The culprit could not have entered from the walled garden or left that way. Anyone making an escape from the Chinese parlour would have had to leave by running across the open courtyard that leads to the stables.’
‘Then one of the grooms may have seen something,’ Adam said. ‘Shall I speak to them—or shall you?’
‘I shall question them,’ Hallam said and frowned. ‘I must say I am relieved to find the evidence. There is only a locked gate from the walled garden to the courtyard and anyone there would not have seen the murderer escape that way. Anyone in the walled garden would have had to go through the house if he came from there...unless he had a key to the gate?’
‘Paul came from the side of the house and must therefore have the key. If he were in the walled garden in the first place...’
‘You doubt it?’ Hallam’s brows arched. ‘I know your thoughts, Adam—but I cannot think...’ He glanced at Jenny. ‘We shall discuss this another time. Please excuse me.’
Adam glanced at Jenny again. ‘I fear this is most uncomfortable for you, Miss Hastings. Did the housekeeper bring you some tea?’
‘Thank you, she did. You must not be anxious for me, sir. I know you wish to be with your cousin. You have important business. I shall sit here quietly by myself while you do what you must. When Lucy is ready we shall return to her house.’
‘You are a sensible young woman,’ Adam said. ‘I can only repeat that I am glad you were here for Lucy’s sake—though I wish you had both been spared such a terrible tragedy.’
‘We must all wish that, sir.’
He inclined his head to her and then hurriedly left the room in his cousin’s wake. Jenny sat down again and let her eyes travel round the elegant parlour. It was a beautiful house and Mark would have inherited it in due course—and Lucy was to have been his wife.
Could his brother have killed him in the hope of stealing his birthright and his fiancée? His cousins had clearly considered it, to judge from their odd looks at him and each other. To Jenny’s impartial eyes the answer seemed clear. Paul Ravenscar had been shocked and distressed to see his brother bleeding and wounded in Mr Miller’s arms. Yet she sensed that both the cousins had half-suspected him, though reluctantly. Paul Ravenscar might covet his brother’s future wife, but Jenny was as certain as she could be that he had not murdered Mark to gain his heart’s desire and she felt sympathy for him. In the unfortunate circumstances there was bound to be some doubt, however.
As no one was likely to ask her for her opinion she could not give it. She was a bystander in all this and must make herself as unobtrusive as possible. Only when she was alone with Lucy and able to offer comfort might she speak her mind—should her friend wish to discuss the identity of the rogue who had killed the man she loved.
* * *
‘Why do you suspect Paul?’ Hallam demanded as the two men met on the way to the stables. ‘I know he had a gun—but he is devoted to Mark. You know it as well as I that he would have done anything for him...’
‘It was something Mark said as he fell into my arms—a warning that may be taken two ways.’ Hallam frowned as Adam repeated Mark’s cryptic words. ‘He may have meant that his father should protect Paul—or something else.’
‘Yes, I see. Now I understand why you have doubts, but I feel that Mark meant to warn you that his brother’s life could also be in danger.’
‘I shall interpret it that way for the moment, but I must keep an open mind. I care for them both and this is more painful than I can express.’
‘As much for Paul as for us,’ Hallam said. ‘To be suspected of harming his brother is terrible, especially as he is torn apart by his grief.’
‘Yes, I know. I could see it in his face, therefore I must accept that the warning was in order to protect Paul from this enemy—but who is the rogue and why would he wish Mark dead?’
‘If we knew that we might have some hope of discovering his identity. One of the grooms recalls seeing a man run past the stables and disappear into the orchard, where he must have left his horse. His impression was that the man was in his thirties, dark-haired and a gentleman by his clothes—and that is all he can recall. He was grooming one of the mares and did not bother to look more closely.’
‘That description might fit anyone,’ Adam said and ran his frustrated fingers through his hair. ‘What do we do next, Hal?’
‘I imagine we must make a search of Mark’s rooms. If there is a clue, it may tell us something.’
‘Then we must wait until after the funeral,’ Adam said. ‘We cannot search his rooms while he lies there—or until he
