An Unfortunate Demise (An Anna Fairweather Murder Mystery Book 2) Read online

  A cool silence fell. I could very nearly feel the bristly tension between them. I had just begun to turn my attentions back to Mrs. Montford and Mrs. Baird, who were discussing the coming holidays, when the woman behind me spoke once more. Her voice carried in such a way that she was difficult to ignore.

  “I suppose you have no interest in walking down by the water this evening?” she asked.

  “In this weather?” he asked. “Certainly not.”

  She let out a groan of frustration. “If the storm passes,” she said. “Which it very likely will do.”

  There was a rustle of clothing behind me. “I have a feeling that you will be wrong about that.” He must have turned to see the same hovering clouds that I had, as thick as smoke, as dark as night.

  “I think you will find that I am right,” she said. “As I often am about these things.”

  At that moment, Mrs. Montford and Mrs. Baird stepped up to the counter, and I did my best to stop hearing the bickering couple behind me. As I listened to the employee behind the counter joyfully give Mrs. Montford a thorough description of her room, I found myself grateful that she had not heard what the couple had been saying to one another. She had enough to worry over. The last thing she needed to begin her holiday was a sour taste left by bickering guests.

  I was all too pleased when the smiling employee handed Mrs. Montford her shiny silver key and we turned to head back toward the grand staircase.

  The size of the suite seemed staggering, given the fact it was only Mrs. Montford and I who were going to be staying within, but she nodded as we entered, looking around. “I suppose it will do, for a week,” she said.

  It will certainly do, I thought, looking round the small parlor and the doors off to the side where two separate rooms could just be seen through the doorways.

  Perhaps I will have a small chance to rest and relax during our stay, I thought, the first glimmer of hope surfacing in my tired, anxious mind.

  “Oh, is it not just charming?” Mrs. Baird asked, stepping fully into the suite, staring around. “And just look at all these furnishings. Goodness, you could practically live here. They certainly know how to keep their guests happy!”

  Mrs. Montford walked straight to the wall of windows at the far side of the room and stared out into the storm. “It will be a beautiful place to stay,” she said finally, turning and giving her friend a smile. “Thank you for the suggestion. I think this will be just what I need.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Baird exclaimed. She hurried across to my mistress’s side and regarded her with great excitement. “Let us hurry and get you all unpacked. We have dinner reservations at six, and I should like to give you the chance to explore your home for the next few nights.”

  Once Mrs. Montford’s things were put away as she liked them—I knew I would have all evening to unpack my own—Mrs. Baird showed us around the hotel, which seemed to have a history as rich as its architecture. She told us of the tale of the designer, who wanted something that might rival a palace but be accessible to ordinary people on their holiday. He imagined a place for families, where they might enjoy the seashore and the fun it had to offer.

  As we passed through one of the halls, lined on one side by a large theater, a brilliant beam of sunlight suddenly appeared through the window, breaking through the clouds.

  It seems the woman at the counter was right, I thought. The storm has stopped.

  It was not long before the clouds cleared and the beauty of the landscape beyond could be seen. With the rain having disappeared, Mrs. Montford wished to step outside and see the sea for herself, perhaps take a walk along the pier.

  “Oh, let us wait some time,” Mrs. Baird said. “The sea will be thrashing something awful for the rest of the night. Tomorrow it will look so much lovelier.”

  The clock had run down on us. Mrs. Baird whisked Mrs. Montford back up to our suite so she could be dressed for dinner and so the friends could have a proper time to catch up. I helped my lady find her favorite plum dress, which she usually reserved for afternoon tea with her friends, and located her charcoal grey hat with the silk roses pinned to the black ribbon that wrapped around it.

  “Very good, very good,” Mrs. Baird said. “How wonderful. Now, I suppose we can have a nice little chat while we wait for the six o’clock hour to wind down. Shall we?”

  The two ladies sat down together and began to chat again. In that time, I glanced over at the window, my heart beginning to race once more.

  I knew if I took a step in its direction, I would surely find the sea just beyond. What then?

  The terrible memory knocked on the door to my heart once more, and I pinched my eyes shut, willing it to pass.

  The water. The river. My father. The splashing—

  Stop. Stop it!

  It was better for me to be busy, to listen to the ladies and their conversation, to tend to them as they needed, than to dwell on the past.

  “Girl, why do you look so forlorn?” Mrs. Baird asked. “Is she missing the estate? That is quite normal, I assume. That has been her home for several years now, yes?”

  I did not know whether to respond. She had addressed me but then turned the question to Mrs. Montford. What did that mean?

  “Anna?”

  I did my best to smooth my expression and inclined my head, turning away from the windows. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I believe Mrs. Baird asked you a question.”

  I looked at Mrs. Baird. It might have been the first time we had made eye contact since we arrived. “My apologies, Mrs. Baird. Yes, I suppose it is that I miss the estate. You are correct. It was indeed my home for these past four years.”

  “I thought as much,” she said. She then gave a sweeping motion with her hand and smiled kindly at me. “Why don’t you get your mind off these things, hmm? Take a nice walk down by the pleasure pier before we go down to dinner.”

  “Oh, I could not possibly—” I began.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Baird said. “You have been stiff as a board since you arrived. I shall take care of Mrs. Montford. You need to go and get some fresh air. It is not good for a ladies maid to be anxious and sulky. Think of how you will make your mistress feel if you remain in such a state all week?”

  Her argument seemed sound, yet I had no desire to listen to it. I glanced at Mrs. Montford.

  She nodded in agreement. “Yes, I think she is right,” she said. “A walk will do you some good.”

  I swallowed hard, glancing out the window again.

  “Run along,” Mrs. Montford commanded.

  I knew it would not do to disobey.

  The sun had chased the clouds away, leaving nothing but a brilliant sky of mauves and lilacs. The evening arrived with a warmth that I had not expected, and the only remnant of the rain could be seen in the puddles that dotted the walkways and the droplets still dripping from the overhangs.

  I had managed to convince myself to step out of the hotel. A long covered porch stretched all along the back of the hotel where rocking chairs awaited guests. Some were occupied by men and women sitting together watching their children play. Others were filled by couples hand in hand, staring into one another’s eyes, oblivious to the ocean that sprawled out before them just on the other side of the pier that the hotel butted up against.

  I wondered if any of these happened to be the couple I had heard arguing behind me earlier. I had only caught sight of them for the briefest moment. All I had noticed had been the woman’s hair, which was a strawberry blonde. None of the women I saw now seemed to have the same shade, and so I passed by them all without another glance.

  I stopped on the steps, looking out over the pier. It seemed everyone in the hotel had been eager to move outdoors, as I imagined that most of Brighton had decided to enjoy the last hour or so of daylight before settling in for the evening.

  The sea itself was difficult to ignore. It touched every part of my vision, up and down the shore. The pier, set above the beach where the waves met the sa
nd that was only accessed by brick staircases that lead down to them, seemed safe enough to me. I would not have to get near the water at all, if I did not want. I would be separated by some distance, a railing, and quite a bit of height.

  The warm, tantalizing spiciness of cinnamon gently greeted my senses, drawing my head toward a stall along the pier. A man tossed nuts in a large silver pan over a small open flame. The headiness of the aroma made my mouth water. There could not have been a better or more pleasing scent to me.

  I had no money to my name, but having left my apron up in the room at Mrs. Montford’s request, at least I was without my usual maid persona. In my simple black dress with a matching hat pulled over my blond bobbed hair, I might have been anybody at all, out for an evening stroll. Easy as it usually was to hide behind my apron and maid’s cap, this gave me a foreign sense of euphoria, being entirely without expectation as I was.

  I made my way down to the stalls that lined the walkway. People flocked to the stalls, each of which held a different attraction. Some offered food stuffs, others games for the children. One a bit further down seemed to be selling handmade hats and bags, all adorned with colorful feathers and ribbons.

  All in all, it seemed like a perfectly pleasant place to spend the evening…if it were not for the sound of the waves lapping up against the shore down below the break wall.

  I took a deep breath, doing my best to calm my shaky nerves.

  This was good for me. It would not do for me to go to pieces any time I was near water. From what Selina had told me before she and the rest of the staff had departed for London, the town home of the Colonel and Mrs. Montford sat not too far from the river Thames. Who knew how often I might encounter it, once my mistress and I eventually arrived there?

  The sea, as vast and open as it was…it was not my true fear.

  The river, however, that was where I must prevail. I must put those memories behind me if I was to have any hope for a normal life in London again.

  I turned from the grey waters, their depths unknown, and focused once again on the nut seller. The smell invigorated me, bringing me back to my senses a bit.

  I stepped up to the corner of the stall, peering down at the charming paper bags tied with string arranged all in a row on the table before me. The hiss of steam flew into the air as the man behind the table tossed some butter into the skillet in his hand, waving it about like a magician with a toy wand. With his free hand, he deftly snatched up a fresh bowl of almonds and tossed them into the hot pan. A few more deft flicks of his wrist coated them in the now melted browning butter.

  I watched as he reached for a small ceramic jar, which he lifted into the air, overturned above the skillet, and gave a few swift shakes. The cinnamon and sugar began to rain upon the nuts, clinging to them, their warm, spicy notes filling the air as they began to heat.

  The man looked up and gave me a toothy grin. “Well, hello there, Miss,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “Might I interest you in a sample?”

  I turned to look over my shoulder, expecting to see someone else standing there behind me. It took me a moment to realize that he was, in fact, asking me.

  I do not look so much like a maid right now, I thought.

  “Oh…” I said. “I have no money, sir.”

  “Well, that’s all right,” he said, picking up a large, deep spoon from behind him and scooping a healthy portion of the nuts from within the skillet. He turned to grab a paper cone and easily overturned the contents of the spoon within. I wondered how many hundreds of times he had done such a thing. He leaned forward, passing me the nuts. “There you are. Free of charge.”

  My cheeks turned scarlet. “Oh, well, thank you. That is very kind of you.”

  He beamed, returning the spoon to the skillet. With a few more deft tosses of the nuts, he began to spoon more into other cones he had ready at the waiting. “You will have to let me know what you think. I could see the way you were eyeing them. It’s awfully hard to resist these, I understand. The smell alone will draw anyone for miles around.”

  I gazed down at the small bounty in my grasp. The glistening nuts, still steaming, were warm like fresh bread hot from the oven in my hand. I wanted nothing more than to take a whole handful, but I refrained and chose a single sugary piece and placed it on my lips.

  The flavor exploded over my tongue, filling my mind with happy thoughts of Christmas mornings and snowy afternoons playing outside in the thick, falling flakes. It wrapped my heart in a comfortable, familiar embrace, and I smiled.

  The fears that had been holding so tight to me eased ever so slightly, and I allowed myself the chance to indulge a little.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his smile growing.

  “Oh, I certainly do,” I said. I resisted the urge to childishly eat the sugar on the tips of my fingers. “Thank you, sir. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

  “No trouble at all,” he said. “Perhaps you can convince your young man to come and purchase some more for you! I am certain he would oblige, given how much you like them.”

  He gave me a wink and turned back to his skillet.

  I did not feel the need to correct him about my life, though I found it interesting he thought me the sort of young woman who would have a sweetheart. It warmed me and gave me a small boost of confidence.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening!” he called to me as I stepped away.

  I thanked him once more before I started back down the pier, enjoying the cinnamon treats that he had given me.

  As I walked past more stalls, vendors, and happy families enjoying their time out in the fresh air, I gave in to a bit of a selfish, wild dream of a night strolling along the pier, arm in arm with the handsome man that the candied almond vendor seemed certain I would be with.

  Wouldn’t that be nice? I thought. With nothing to do for the evening apart from sampling warm treats and gazing upon the wares of the vendors?

  The memory of a particular smile passed through my mind, stopping me short.

  Mr. Jerome Townson.

  Why had he crossed my thoughts? Why him, of all people?

  I hardly knew the man. I had only known him since the Colonel’s death. How long ago had that been? One week? Two?

  It had been a long time since I had found anyone’s smile so appealing.

  As a young girl, I had known a boy by the name of Sean Hathoway. His smile captured the heart of every girl he spoke to. I could see now how unintentional his charms must have been, as young as he was. How could he have known the way he would ensnare my affections so acutely when we hardly ever spoke? I would watch him from across the school room and admire the way the sun tangled with his dark locks.

  He had grown, and so had I, and we had gone our separate ways…and there had never been any indication that he had ever seen me as anyone more than a fellow pupil, a friend at best.

  The late Colonel Montford also knew a great many people, some of whom had sons or were young themselves. I had seen them come and go, and many of them were attractive to varying degrees. However, I was utterly certain that none of them had turned their attention to me.

  Mr. Jerome Townson had noticed me for some strange reason. I could not explain it.

  At first, I had been almost certain that it was because he had been somehow responsible for the Colonel’s death and had deduced that I might have information. My ability to go undetected in a room, to observe, was noticed by him. He was a clever man, but had a great love for his family, and I eventually learned that he wanted to do right by his uncle, whom he greatly respected.

  I moved closer to the railing, stepping out of the way of some of the other pedestrians.

  Perhaps the reason Mr. Jerome had stuck in my mind was because he saw me. Not a maid. Not a member of his aunt and uncle’s staff. Not a woman lost in a crowded room, enveloped in the shadows.

  Not that any of it matters…I thought. The difference in our positions means there is no point in thinking of him further. Besides,
I will probably never see him again.

  Regardless of the fact that Mr. Jerome was Mrs. Montford’s nephew, she and his mother, Mrs. Townson, were at odds and would likely not meet without the buffer of the Colonel to smooth the tensions between them anymore.

  My heart sank slightly.

  I was living a bit of a sham, wasn’t I? Here I was, parading around on the pier as if I were a carefree young woman, not the maid of one of the guests simply out for a stroll.

  The cinnamon almonds in my hand had begun to cool, their scent no longer bringing me comfort.

  It felt as if I had lied to the vendor. Would he have so openly offered this treat to a ladies maid? Probably not. To Mrs. Montford, to be sure, but to me?

  I crumpled up the top of the bag, twisting it shut.

  The shriek of a child drew my attention down to the shoreline. I watched as a trio of children raced away from the waves lapping up against the sand, doing their best to outpace the waters and keep their shoes dry. As I watched, I noticed a few other families had made their way down to the beach, despite the storm that had only just passed.

  I looked back along the pier, realizing I had wandered a great distance from the hotel. It must have been when I was lost in thought about Mr. Jerome…

  I knew it would take some time to get back to the hotel. It would be best for me to start back. I did not want Mrs. Montford to be wondering about me or where I was.

  The sound of the water against the shore was no longer sending shivers down my spine. Despite my melancholy moment, seeing the families together, the smiling vendors in their booths, I could almost see why people chose to come down to the seaside for their holidays. In the sunlight, the pier likely had an invigorating charm to it.

  The children had gone in, but it seemed that despite the sun setting behind the clouds along the horizon, someone was still determined to splash in the waves.

  I turned to look and saw a pair of people down in the water, far removed from all the other families that had remained closer to the hotel. The splashing, loud and frequent, made me think that perhaps some children had somehow extricated themselves from their parents and were wrestling together in the surf.