Murder in Moonlight: Victorian Historical Romance Mystery (Silver and Grey Book 1) by Mary Lancaster

Author:Mary Lancaster [Lancaster, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2024-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“I’m not convinced she did it,” Constance said, when she was finally alone with Grey.

They had just finished tea with everyone else, during which Grey had told the company in tones of disappointment that the police did not believe that any of the servants—including Owen the boot boy—knew who took the murder weapon from the kitchen. Though Constance had surreptitiously observed the expressions around the table, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. If the killer sat among them, he probably knew perfectly well that no one had seen him—or her—steal the knife.

Now they were taking a walk, since Miriam was using their previous meeting place to write her letters.

“Not convinced that she did it,” Grey repeated. “That is not quite a ringing endorsement of her innocence.”

“No,” Constance allowed. “You see, she has the strength and all that emotion churning below the surface. She was hurt enough and angry enough, possibly even tipped over the edge of sanity… And yet she did not feel guilty. Of adultery, yes—of the greater crime, no.”

He regarded her quizzically. “Do you always know when your own girls are guilty of something?”

“Yes.”

“Because they confess?”

“Usually, they do. They are not afraid of me, you see. But that’s not how I know.”

“You know because they feel guilty?”

“You are laughing at me,” she said without heat. “But they do. Sometimes, you just have to ask the right questions to bring it to the surface.”

“Perhaps you did not ask Mrs. Bolton the right question.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed with reluctance. As they emerged onto a well-trodden path, she caught sight of Inspector Harris and Sergeant Flynn striding ahead. “Aha!”

Without thought, she grasped Grey’s arm and sped after them. He, after a startled resistance, just lengthened his stride and kept up easily with her trot. No doubt hearing the charge, both policemen turned and then paused for them to catch up.

“Something to tell us?” Harris asked.

“Something to tell us?” Constance countered.

“No,” Harris said bluntly.

“Pity. Did Mrs. Bolton confess to her affair with Mr. Winsom?”

Harris stared through her.

Grey sighed. “You have Mrs. Silver to thank for that, you know. She sent her back to you when Mrs. Bolton confessed to her.”

Harris scowled. The sergeant grinned before composing his face more seriously in response to Harris’s glower.

“Do you know who committed the crime?” Grey asked.

Harris cleared his brow with apparent effort. “Not yet. They all seem to have a reason, and whatever their spouses say, they all had opportunity.”

“Except the youngest girl,” Flynn said. “I don’t see what her motive is.”

“Because you’re not looking beyond her pretty face,” Harris retorted, and Flynn blushed.

“Thank you for ruling us out,” Grey said.

“I haven’t,” said Harris. “I was just being polite.”

“I like you, inspector,” Constance said, smiling at him. He looked more alarmed than gratified, but before he could say anything, she asked, “Where are you going? Surely not back to London?”

“No, we have rooms at the village inn.”

“Excellent. Then we’ll walk with you and compare notes.”

“No, we won’t,” Harris said. “How many people do you

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