An Untimely Death Page 13

  That must be it. Mrs. Montford said the Colonel had been upset by something. Either he was simply taking his anger out on Mr. Hendrick, or that fight was the source of his consternation.

  “Thank you, Nora,” I said. “Mrs. Montford will be very pleased. I will be certain to tell her how helpful you were.”

  Nora’s eyes widened and she paused in her beating of the dough. “Thank you,” she said.

  As I left the kitchens, I knew I had played my cards well. Not only had I assured that Nora would not tell anyone that I had been the one seeking information, but I had also assured that she would not breathe a word of it to anyone, as I had given her a seal of protection in the form of a compliment to our mistress.

  It was truly a winning scenario for the both of us. And perhaps, with any luck, I might have just bought myself a bit of loyalty…or at the very least, a favor.

  Mr. Hendrick, I suppose I need to speak with you next.

  I knew it would be easy enough to take what I had learned to Mrs. Montford. She could call Mr. Hendrick to her, question him, and he would be obliged to tell her the truth. Combined with the knowledge that someone on staff, the man who served the Colonel his drinks, had the mole on the back of his neck, it might—

  I froze partway down the hall.

  A thought, terrifying and paralyzing, passed through my mind like an ember drifting far from a flame.

  What if the man who served the drinks to the Colonel was Mr. Hendrick?

  He had never crossed my mind as a possibility.

  The server had been of similar build to Mr. Hendrick, had he not? I had considered Mr. Hose. Why not Mr. Hendrick? His position as the head butler did not leave him immune to scrutiny.

  I paused, withdrawing into the shadow of a doorway.

  If he had been responsible—if—he had done an excellent job covering his tracks. He had been primary to the investigation that very first day. He himself had overseen the questioning of the servants about this man with the mole that I had seen.

  Of course, no one would have suspected him because he had been so proactive. How clever of him…

  There was no proof, but the more I considered, the more it began to make sense. Learning that he and the Colonel had been fighting that morning made me wonder precisely what it was about. It had been enough to thoroughly upset the Colonel, so much so that his wife had been concerned. No, not simply concerned. She seemed convinced that it was somehow tied to his death.

  Therefore, could it have been Mr. Hendrick, angry enough over the argument to kill the Colonel before he was able to share what they had fought about?

  I slowly crept to the small study that had been set aside for the head butler. There, he took care of some of his more menial tasks—addressing mail, organizing the household expenses and the like.

  I could see him through the crack in the door. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to his neck.

  At once, I realized why I might have never seen any mole on him. He wore the same coat that he always did, which had a high collar, as well as the white shirt beneath. It never would have crossed my mind until now. It was part of his uniform, just like my black dress with the white apron. It was expected of him.

  There was only one way to discover if my suspicion had any merit and that would require me catching a glimpse of Mr. Hendrick’s bare neck.

  15

  I had to find a way to get close to him without him noticing.

  I realized full well that Mrs. Montford would be needing me sooner rather than later, but I couldn’t rush. I needed to be cautious so as not to draw attention.

  When Mr. Hendrick finished his work and left his study, I followed him, hiding in the darker corners of the hall to stay out of sight. He made his way to the drawing room, where he began to inspect the room, as if to see that everything was in proper order. He paused to polish the marble busts that sat on the shelves along the wall. The housemaids must have neglected to clean those properly.

  I leaned against the wall, considering.

  How in the world am I going to do this?

  I knew I could not outright ask him my questions, as he would refuse to answer. And he would surely not give truthful answers to my lady, if I were to pass the matter on to her. No, I had no choice but to find the information myself by stealthy means.

  Would I have to wait until he was sleeping? I knew that I would be in terrible trouble if someone caught me in his room after dark, especially if it was him who caught me. Yet, if I were to try and look while he was awake, the likelihood of someone else witnessing my coming and going seemed much higher.

  I needed help. And I knew there was only one person I could trust.

  I left Mr. Hendrick where he was in the drawing room and set off through the house, my mind set on one matter. I became so consumed with my own thoughts that I hardly noticed when someone stepped in front of me as I made my way down the hall nearest the dining room.

  “Anna. I hoped I would run into you.”

  I looked up, nearly colliding with the green-vested chest of someone standing right before me. I had nearly walked straight into Mr. Jerome.

  I took a deliberate step back and dipped into a curtsy, ducking my head. I did not want him to see the worry on my face. “Mr. Jerome,” I said. “I do not mean to be rude, sir, but I must not stop, as I am in pursuit of something for my lady.”

  Without lifting my head, I took a step past him.

  “I wanted to apologize,” he said.

  I stopped, nearly tripping over my own shoes.

  “I never ought to have involved you in this business with my uncle,” he said. “It was unfair of me to seek to use you as a source of information about his death. I suppose I did it because I thought a servant in this household would have access to facts I could not gather on my own. But now I see that I have put you in an unpleasant position.”

  I hesitated, uncertain whether to hear him out or make my excuses and hurry on.

  “I only wanted to know what truly happened to him, you see,” he said. “I suppose it made me feel better knowing that I was not the only one who thought he had been murdered. It gave me what I needed to push on.”

  I said nothing, although I agreed with him. I understood what it was that he meant, because I had felt the same way.

  “I am not going to ask you to put yourself in harm’s way any longer,” he said. “I simply wished to make that clear and to thank you…for taking good care of my aunt. Might I ask you to give her extra special care, going forward? I believe she needs it now more than ever.”

  He did not need to ask that, as I never had any intention of doing anything else.

  Part of me longed to tell him what I had learned, that I was on what might be the brink of discovery. I might be steps away, moments away, from learning the truth.

  And yet…

  Something told me that I still could not trust him. Not yet at least. My suspicions about Mr. Hendrick might prove wrong, at which point anyone could become a suspect again, even Mr. Jerome.

  “Thank you,” was all I could think to say in that moment. It was clear, polite, and gave nothing away.

  Without waiting for a reply, I started down the hall, doing my best to take casually paced steps. As my heart thundered within me, I forced myself to appear calm. I did not need him to see me nervous in any way.

  I stopped around the corner, flattening myself against the wall.

  I could have told him. I could have confessed all I suspect and he might have helped me.

  What if I was wrong, however? Perhaps Mr. Jerome and his mother had worked together to dispose of the Colonel in hopes of a generous inheritance. For all I knew, he could be an excellent liar and everything he had just said to me could have been intended to make himself appear innocent.

  No, there was only one person in this house that I knew I could trust and I needed to find her.

  “No,” Selina said to me as soon as I told her that I needed help. I had found her in one of the guest rooms, r
earranging pillows on the bed that she had just made up, preparing it for whoever it was that had been staying there. “Absolutely not. Did I not just tell you to leave all this behind?”

  “Selina, I know that you do not understand, but I may have figured out who it was that killed the Colonel,” I said.

  She glared at me from across the bed as I stepped up to help her fold the top of the duvet back against itself and tuck it in beneath the mattress. “You thought you knew twice before and you were wrong both times, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I said. “But I am almost certain this time.”

  “I will not help you get into trouble,” Selina said. “I refuse to allow it.”

  “Selina, I think it is Mr. Hendrick,” I said.

  My words fell like a blow. She froze, her eyes popping, mouth gaping. “Mr. Hendrick?” she breathed. “How…how do you know?”

  “That is why I need help,” I said. “To make certain.”

  I explained the plan I had formulated while combing the house for her. After a few minutes of arguing over the logistics, she agreed, and once the room had been finished, we departed to tackle the problem at hand.

  I paused only to snatch what I needed from beside the fireplace.

  Selina strode down the hall ahead of me, her arms laden with linens for the laundry. They towered over her head and she wobbled a bit as she walked. I remained half the length of the hallway behind her, my hand clenching tightly around the metal in my hand.

  We would find the answer, one way or another.

  Selina made her way down the stairs ahead of me, and I waited at the top, listening hard. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard a gasp, as well as the sound of something heavy striking the floor.

  “Ow!” I heard Selina cry out.

  I winced but remained at the top of the stairs, patiently waiting. She was not injured. I knew that. Still, hearing her in distress, even knowing it to be feigned, made the ache in my stomach that much worse.

  “What is it?”

  My stomach twisted within me. That is the voice I was hoping to hear!

  Selina would have tripped only if she saw Mr. Hendrick in his office, as we had expected him to be. Our plan depended upon it.

  Selina sniffled. “Mr. Hendrick…” she said in a thick voice. “I have taken a tumble down the stairs. One of these sheets must have gotten caught underneath my feet. I have gone and torn my stockings, skinned my knee, and—”

  “Stop your crying, girl,” Mr. Hendrick said. “I will help you to clean this up. Then you should get yourself to Mrs. Carlisle. I imagine she will want to take a look at that knee.”

  Selina made a rather weak sound of acknowledgement, and I took that as my cue.

  I started hesitantly down the stairs, taking great care to avoid any of the creaking parts that I had come to know during my years there. I heard Mr. Hendrick muttering and Selina responding in a small voice.

  Keep him distracted just a few moments longer…

  My hand grew slick with sweat over the poker I held. The wrought iron had warmed in my grip, but I held it more tightly as I waited for the moment of truth to come. If anything were to go wrong, I might well need the weapon to defend myself, as well as Selina.

  I tiptoed down the stairs, peering over the banister, and found the two of them just beside it, near the bottom.

  Mr. Hendrick’s back was turned as he bent over the linens, trying to help Selina scoop them up.

  Selina, however, appeared to accidentally drop a few from her arms again and let out a whine of frustration.

  “Good heavens, girl, it is not as terrible as all that,” Mr. Hendrick said sharply. “I do not have time to be wasting on this.”

  My own time was limited, I knew.

  Selina glanced momentarily up at me, the briefest of looks that I knew Mr. Hendrick would surely miss. Her face lost a great deal of color.

  My heart hammered in my ears, my veins feeling as if they had been filled with hot coals. I leaned over the stairwell as far as I could go, my gaze fixed on the butler.

  I nearly swallowed my tongue as Mr. Hendrick’s head bowed over the linens he retrieved. His neck, stretching above his high collar, revealed exactly what I sought a glimpse of. I saw a dark, round mark the size of a fingernail on the back of his neck.

  That’s it! That’s the mole!

  An icy, biting fear washed over me.

  Mr. Hendrick was the one who killed the Colonel.

  In my shock, I nearly lost my balance.

  I grappled for the banister but my fingers, slick with sweat, had difficulty gripping the polished wood. I slipped down a few inches, and in struggling to keep my balance, dropped the metal poker I had held in one hand. It clattered loudly to the floor.

  “What in the—” Mr. Hendrick cried out.

  I froze as his eyes fell upon me.

  He looked at the poker, back at me, and then back to the poker. Then he knelt to pick it up. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked, gripping the metal tightly.

  My mind emptied of all thought. All I could do was stand there and stare at him, dumbfounded. I could think of no way to protect myself, no excuse…

  All I could think were a few very simple words.

  “It was you who did it…” I said.

  Selina, too, had gone rigid, the linens at her feet entirely forgotten.

  “What was me?” Mr. Hendrick spat, waving the poker in the air. “What have I done?”

  “The mole,” I said. “It’s on your neck!”

  Mr. Hendrick immediately threw his hand up behind his head, laying it over the back of his neck to hide a mole that was not even visible at the moment. “Why, you…” he grimaced, grinding his teeth together.

  I gripped the railing, my hands beginning to shake. “Why, Mr. Hendrick?” I asked. “The Colonel…the day of the party…the drinks?”

  “You would do well to stop now, girl,” Mr. Hendrick growled. “You do not know of what you speak.”

  “Oh, but I do,” I said. “You did everything you could to cover that mole because you knew it linked you to the Colonel’s death. You offered to ask the servants about it. You worked to appear proactive and it was quite effective. Not a single person suspected you.”

  Mr. Hendrick’s expression became murderous. He rolled the poker in his hand, his eyes narrowing.

  My heart thundered. My fear had been numbed by the terrifying thrill of confronting him. I felt…invigorated.

  I was right. I could see it on his face. The answer burned in his gaze.

  “It must have something to do with the argument that you had with the Colonel that morning,” I said, the pieces all falling into place in my mind. “What could have possibly angered you so much that you decided to kill him?”

  Silence followed my question.

  Selina and I both remained still, waiting for Mr. Hendrick to reply.

  He looked down, examining the poker in his hand. He took it into his other hand, rolling it over in his palms.

  “You cannot prove anything,” he said.

  My heart skipped again. That was as good as an admission.

  “You have no evidence,” he said. “None at all.”

  “So you did kill him?” Selina asked in a small voice.

  Mr. Hendrick turned to her, his eyes flashing as if he had just remembered she was standing there beside him.

  “W-Why?” Selina asked, her voice rising as she took a step backward. “Mr. Hendrick, why did you do it?”

  “Quiet, girl,” Mr. Hendrick said once more, waving the poker in her direction. “You would do well not to—”

  While his back was turned, I took the opportunity to start up the stairs.

  Something caught me from behind and I tripped, falling against the carpeted steps.

  My head whipped around, and I saw Mr. Hendrick’s arm reaching through the rungs in the banister. The curved end of the poker he held was hooked through my apron strings and preventing me from slipping
away.

  Cold fear washed over me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Hendrick hissed.

  For a long moment, we stared at one another, each waiting for the other to move. Behind the butler, Selina cowered, slowly backing away.

  I made eye contact with her over his head.

  We needed help. She was the only one who could get it for us.

  She seemed to understand, despite no change in my expression. I hoped it had been clear enough in my eyes.

  She turned slowly, and before Mr. Hendrick saw her, she dashed down the hall, screaming for help.

  Mr. Hendrick gritted his teeth and gave a good tug on the poker caught in my apron. I grabbed onto the rungs of the banister for support so as not to topple down the stairs.

  Mr. Hendrick released his hold on me and ripped his arm back through the rungs. In seconds, he dashed around the bottom of the railing, quickly gaining ground on me as he rushed up the stairs.

  I scrambled to my feet, leaping up the stairs two at a time.

  I could still hear Selina screaming out somewhere below. I knew it would take time for anyone else to understand what was happening and come to our aid. Until then, I needed to find some way to escape Mr. Hendrick’s reach.

  I made a dash around one of the corners, realizing quickly that if I was not careful, he would trap me somewhere in one of the rooms. I could not let that happen, lest I find that poker lodged in my skull.

  Only a few of the hallways on the upper floor connected, and I had to keep my wits about me as I ran.

  “Stop!” Mr. Hendrick cried.

  A few faces peered out of the rooms as I passed—some guests, some servants.

  “Help!” I cried. “Please, help me!”

  Everyone seemed too stunned to respond immediately. By the time people were spurred into action, we had already disappeared around the corner.

  I swung around back toward the stairs, rounding the corner of the hall, when something hard and metal struck me on the back of my calf.