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

  Mrs. Montford’s eyes narrowed. I could see that she was measuring my story up against the fears I had been battling since we arrived here. I had told her very little but she knew that I had a dread of water.

  I said, “I waded into the surf, almost until I could no longer touch, and I helped pull the man in. He could barely keep his head above the waves and the current kept trying to drag me under.”

  At the memory, I closed my eyes, willing my racing heart to slow. The fear threatened to wash over me and I balled my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

  “I finally managed to secure a hold on him and I helped him to shore. That was when I realized he was carrying a woman…his wife…and she was not moving.”

  Mrs. Baird gasped behind me. “She wasn’t—?” she asked, allowing the rest of the question to hang unfinished.

  A chill passed over me and it was not from my sodden clothes. I shook my head, still looking at Mrs. Montford.

  Understanding passed over my mistress’s face.

  “By the time anyone was able to reach them, she was gone,” Mr. Wallard remarked.

  “Oh my heavens,” Mrs. Baird said. “Oh, you poor, poor dear. To have to witness such a tragedy. How did it ever happen?”

  “According to the husband, they were walking on the outcropping of rocks further down from the pier,” I said. “He told us that she slipped and fell into the water. The currents were strong after the storms and so he had trouble helping her in to shore.”

  “She was dead before they surfaced?” Mrs. Montford asked, looking uneasy. I could not blame her. We had so recently put the loss of her husband behind us and now we faced death once more?

  “It seems she may have been,” I said.

  Mrs. Montford shook her head, turning her attention toward the window. “The authorities will be here soon, no doubt,” she said. “Such accidents have to be officially investigated.”

  She turned to me. “I imagine we will need to remain close to the hotel until you are properly interviewed.”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

  She extended her chin toward the doors behind me. “You should go change, get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, getting to my feet at once. I turned to Mr. Wallard, who knelt beside the fire, prodding a new log into place.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wallard, for bringing me back,” I said. “And for the use of your coat. You were most kind.”

  He nodded, rising. “I am glad to have been of service. If you or your family are in need of anything at all, my booth is the first down on the pier. I would be happy to help in any way.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Montford said. “For returning her safe and sound.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” he said. He dusted his hands off and gave an awkward sort of bow. “Well…have a good evening, ladies.”

  He stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind himself.

  Mrs. Montford turned her attention to me at once, her eyes sharp.

  I expected anger—at my getting involved in the business in the first place, at my requiring someone to help me back to the room, and for surprising her with an unexpected guest that she must thank…

  “I thought I told you to go get cleaned up,” she said, glaring at me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Of course, ma’am.”

  As I hurried to my room, wringing the water from the ends of my hair, I just managed to overhear Mrs. Montford say something of great surprise to Mrs. Baird.

  “I worry about that girl and her rash decisions. I should not like to lose her,” she said in a low voice.

  3

  “Mrs. Baird, please do not cancel your plans on account of me,” I said. “I assure you, I am perfectly all right.”

  “I’m afraid it is out of the question,” Mrs. Baird said, holding her hand aloft. “I think it is far more important that Mrs. Montford attend to all that will likely come from this affair, than for me to insist upon a simple meal with her tonight.”

  She stood just out in the hall, already having donned her hat and gloves. As I had come from my room, having peeled my wet, stinking clothes from my skin and given myself a quick dry-off, I caught Mrs. Montford saying goodbye to Mrs. Baird.

  “We will be able to have dinner together soon enough,” Mrs. Baird went on. “I hope tomorrow, or the following evening. I realize there is a great deal more that will be requiring your attention here, the both of you.”

  My face flushed. She was not wrong. My mistress was ultimately responsible for me, and therefore, each and every one of my actions was a reflection upon her. At the time of rescuing the drowning woman, I had not even considered how it might come to affect Mrs. Montford. I had acted without thought, simply wanting to be of help.

  “The police have not yet arrived but I know they will be coming soon enough. At least, if they have arrived, they have not come looking for you,” Mrs. Montford told me. “If they do not tonight, they certainly will tomorrow, especially if they suspect anything is amiss.”

  “Amiss?” Mrs. Baird asked, her brow furrowing. “What could you mean?”

  Mrs. Montford looked back at her. “I mean that there may be some question as to whether anyone was responsible for what occurred.”

  Mrs. Baird gasped. “You think people will imagine that man deliberately drowned his wife? Why would he have killed her if he was trying to save her?”

  Mrs. Montford sighed. “It will probably only be a matter of routine but these are the sorts of questions authorities must consider when there is a sudden death. In any case, we will be here, Mrs. Baird. You are welcome to come join me at any time.”

  “I shall stop by tomorrow, certainly, if only to see how you all are,” she said. She looked at me. “I am quite glad you were unharmed, Anna,” she said.

  I inclined my head. “Thank you for your concern, ma’am.”

  She nodded. “You take care as well, Bea. Try and get some sleep tonight?”

  “I will,” Mrs. Montford said with a small smile.

  “Very good, then,” Mrs. Baird took a deep, quick breath. “Good night.”

  With a wave, she turned around and started down the hall.

  Mrs. Montford waited until she had gone down the stairs before turning to me. “Well, I suppose we should not spoil those reservations that Mrs. Baird made earlier.”

  “You want me…to come with you?” I asked.

  “I certainly do not intend to sit at the table all by myself,” she said. “Besides, I doubt we can leave the hotel at this point, not when you were so closely associated with the woman’s death. It will be easy enough for anyone who comes looking to find us in the dining room.”

  My face flooded with color. “Thank you.”

  “Do not feel strange,” Mrs. Montford said. “I realize this is a bizarre situation in which we find ourselves, but it will not do for you to behave as if you are nervous. It will implicate you before you can ever have a word in with the police.”

  Implicate me? Surely it will not come to that? Not when the drowning was so clearly an accident?

  I tried to keep my thoughts from showing on my face.

  “Of course,” I said. “My apologies, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Montford sighed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she surveyed me. “Chin up, now. I will not have you looking like a sullen puppy.”

  We made our way down to the ground floor of the hotel, and after following the gold plaque signs directing us toward the eastern wing, we found the hotel’s opulent restaurant.

  A beautiful place with tall windows overlooking the ocean, the restaurant had a pleasant, welcoming feel with warm lighting and clean white tables. Crystal glasses glittered on the tabletops and silver utensils gleamed in the light of the candles as they waited for guests to take their seats.

  A piano resided in the back corner away from the windows, gentle notes from the hands of a skilled player filling the air.

  A waiter in a black vest and crisp white shirt led us to a table in the far corner, flanked on two sides by windows which seemed more like mirrors at this late hour. Night had fallen in earnest. That gave me peace, because I could pretend the sea was miles away. As we were seated at our table, I caught sight of my own reflection.

  My blonde hair, still damp, remained pinned in place as I had arranged it before leaving the room, but seeing the slightly curling ends made my stomach twist into knots. I never liked to let it go without a thorough brushing and had not had the chance before dinner. My dress, too, was wrinkled in places from the waist down. I had not had time to press the fabric, which I usually did in the morning before tending to Mrs. Montford.

  The vacancy in my eyes was evident in my reflection. The glassy, worried expression…it hung on. I could not seem to shake it. I looked as if I had seen a ghost, and I might as well have.

  “Come along, girl, stop gawking at yourself,” Mrs. Montford said, taking a seat at the table.

  Obediently, I quickly took a seat beside her.

  Mrs. Montford at once draped her napkin across her lap and reached for the small booklet resting on the middle of the table.

  As I looked around the restaurant, I saw that we were among many guests who had come down for a meal that evening. The room smelled of fish, grilled vegetables, and something akin to orange, certainly citrus of some sort.

  It was not as if I was unfamiliar with an elegant dining room. The Colonel and Mrs. Montford had often had wonderful parties in their home, where I sometimes assisted in serving them and their guests fine meals. On rare occasions, Mrs. Montford would even ensure that I accompanied her to some of her friends’ parties, in case she needed anything fetched or any errands run. From shadowed corners or discreet stations
along the walls, I had the chance to observe the Montfords dining in great elegance.

  This, however, was entirely different.

  I felt strange sitting there adjacent to Mrs. Montford. In my bones, I felt the urge to get to my feet and stand off to the side of her seat, out of the way. The meal was for her, not for me. Yet here I was, sitting at the table like a proper lady, not a maid in some foolish charade.

  “Good evening,” said a waiter who walked up to the table. He had a warm smile, though his features were rather plain. “Might I interest you ladies in something to drink? I would be more than happy to bring you ice water, or perhaps lemonade?”

  “I shall have water, thank you,” Mrs. Montford said. “And a lemonade would be welcome for the girl.”

  “Right away, ma’am,” the server said, smiling politely, and he walked away from us.

  My face burned as I stared down at the pristine bone china plate.

  Did he know? When he looked down at me, did he think he saw a young woman who was not worthy of the chair in which she was sitting? Could he see that I had somehow managed to obtain a special night, where I might be waited upon instead of being the one to serve?

  Mrs. Montford continued to peruse the booklet, which I could only assume was the menu. I cared little for what she might order for me, for I did not think I would have any appetite to speak of, ultimately. It felt too much like a farce, me sitting here with her, but I did not have the strength to say so aloud.

  I knew it best to wait for Mrs. Montford to speak to me, but at the same time, I longed to speak, to fill the silence between us with meaningless words. The atmosphere of the room seemed entirely contrary to me, between the quiet murmurs of other guests and the lulling music from the piano.

  Perhaps we could speak of the weather or of her plans for the rest of the week…anything that would distract my mind from the images of the dead woman’s face, the lamenting husband, and the feel of the tug of the sea.

  I tried to control my breathing, which began to come in sharp, shallow gasps. It would not do for me to have a fit at dinner. I needed to remain calm, for both myself and Mrs. Montford.

  When the waiter returned, I was grateful. The internal battle that raged on had become difficult to wage, as my mind unfortunately wanted nothing more than to revisit what had happened earlier that evening in the waves of the sea.

  “Here you are,” the waiter said, giving me yet another smile, setting the tall glass in front of me. It was filled with ice and slices of lemon floated inside that were so thin I could see the light from the candles passing through. “And water for you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but did not reach for the glass.

  It did not seem right to enjoy something so simple, so normal, while I knew full well that Dinah’s husband would probably do no eating or drinking tonight. He was likely being spoken to by the police even now. I wondered if he had been separated from his wife’s body. I wondered how many people had witnessed his grieving.

  I heard Mrs. Montford order something for dinner for the both of us, but I cared little. What did it matter if I ate or not? I did not think I could fit a single bite into my mouth, not with the tumult that was happening within.

  “Well, do not let your lemonade grow warm,” Mrs. Montford said. “I imagine you must be parched.”

  I tried to lick my lips and felt my tongue extricate itself from the top of my mouth with a rather uncomfortable pull.

  I reached for the glass, and the slick, cold surface sent shivers down my spine.

  The feel of the waves tugging me under once again crept over me, and at once, I released my hold on the glass.

  I swallowed hard, my heart thundering.

  I am all right. I am safe in the hotel. I never have to go anywhere near the sea again, I told myself.

  Mrs. Montford cleared her throat. “Is everything all right? Is there a problem with the drink?”

  I looked up at her. “No, ma’am. I am sorry, I was just…lost in thought.”

  “Mhmm,” she said, pursing her lips. She studied my face for a moment. “Well, Mrs. Baird would have been all too happy to enjoy that lemonade. You should not let it go to waste.”

  “No, of course not, ma’am,” I said.

  I reached for the glass again, reminding myself the whole way through that it was not the ocean. It was a glass and I had control of it.

  I brought it to my mouth and the cool liquid brushed against my parched lips, soothing them at once. I took an eager sip, my thirst overriding my anxiety, and I continued to draw the liquid into my mouth, unable to stop. The sour tang made my mouth water and the sweet, syrupy finish made me want to drink more and more. The ice helped to cool my hot face as I breathed in the cold air at the top of the glass.

  When I finally set the glass down, it was empty apart from a few stray pieces of ice and the brilliantly yellow slices of lemon.

  “There, now,” Mrs. Montford said. “Isn’t that better?”

  I looked over and caught her studying me.

  For a moment, the death of the woman named Dinah seemed to fade to the background, and a new question reasserted itself at the front of my mind…a question I had been pondering on the train ride to Brighton. A question that had yet to be answered.

  When the Colonel died, he had left a will that spelled out precisely how he wished for his belongings and wealth to be distributed. A matter of some consternation to the rest of his family, none were more surprised than myself to learn that he had left an inheritance to me, a sum that I would be able to access on my twenty-fifth birthday. A sum that would allow me to live quite comfortably one day.

  That had not been the only strange occurrence, though I certainly could not explain why he had chosen to leave me what he had. I had only worked for him and his wife for four years, hardly a fraction of the time that others in the household had. Yet it seemed he had taken a special interest in me. Why?

  I was a skilled ladies maid, Mrs. Montford’s right hand, some might have said. It was possible he simply wished to leave me a sum as thanks for caring for his wife after his death. Though I had no desire to go elsewhere, he could not have known I would choose to stay in her employ. Perhaps the money was a means of persuading me to stay, for it was dependent on my continued faithful service.

  But there was also the matter of this trip to Brighton. Mrs. Montford had decided to pack up the country house and set off for her smaller home in town. She sent many of the staff ahead of us to ensure the London house was in order.

  Meanwhile, only I was chosen to accompany her on holiday to Brighton.

  Perhaps it was because she required no more than one maid to manage her unpacking, to lay out her clothes for her, and all the other tasks I was accustomed to doing. Nevertheless, it felt odd that I should be selected to accompany her. I could almost convince myself that she had some motive for keeping me close, that she wished to keep an eye on me, in some way. But why should she wish to watch me? What could she have to fear from me?

  Mrs. Montford glanced over at me, setting her glass down. “What is it?” she asked. “You have a dejected look on your face.”

  “My apologies, ma’am,” I said. “I suppose I am too caught up in my thoughts.”

  She sighed, and I heard the smoothing of fabric as she spread her hands over her skirts. “I suppose I should expect nothing less,” she said. “I realize that these recent weeks must have been troubling for you. It has been difficult for us all, since the Colonel...passed away. And now, you have stumbled into yet another tragedy.”

  I said, “I know I am fortunate to be unharmed. I could have been quite injured, if not met the same fate as Dinah.”

  “Dinah?” Mrs. Montford asked.

  “The dead woman’s name…” I said, my voice suddenly distant as I saw her face in my mind, first in the foyer earlier that day when she and her husband had stood behind us hoping to change their room, and then her lying on the beach, lifeless, no longer breathing. “It is troubling to think that she was alive just a few hours ago. I saw her when we first arrived.”

  I told Mrs. Montford how they had been behind us when we were checking into our suite, and how I had not seen them again until they were in the water.