Chapter 12

Pettigrew reached down and turned the body over. A letter opener protruded from the chest. "It’s Ternberry."

"Ternberry!"

"Move, I can’t see."

"Ronald Ternberry! "

"I thought he left."

"Is he alive?"

"What’s going on?"

"Gentlemen, please escort the ladies indoors." Pettigrew’s voice was tight and agitated.

Guests in the rear were pushing forward, trying to peek through the spectators in front. A few of the men started herding the bewildered crowd toward the house. It took a few minutes of commotion before the crowd began to move.

James bent and whispered in Calliope’s ear. "Stay with Lady Willoughby. We will follow in a few minutes."

Calliope nodded. Lady Willoughby had turned and was walking toward the house, a straggler behind the swarm. Calliope kept a few paces behind.

Lady Willoughby’s stride was short, her shoulders hunched forward. She tripped twice. Calliope didn’t feel very relaxed either. Ternberry’s twisted features would star in her nightmares.

They reached the house and joined the other ladies and a number of the gentlemen in the salon. Lady Pettigrew was fluttering. The servants were dashing around serving brandy and tea. One gentleman started to light a cigar. He stopped en route and surprise lit his face. He hastily tucked the unlit cigar away, finally remembering where he was. The atmosphere was tense.

Calliope continued to follow Lady Willoughby until she stopped short of a group of women. She looked unsurprised to find Calliope on her heels. Penelope Flanders was regaling the group with details.

"Grotesque. I tell you, it was as if he were the devil laughing, his mouth stuck in a twisted line. His eyes bulging. I can’t believe my smelling salts are missing." Penelope fanned herself. "I don’t know what I shall do. The parties won’t be the same without dear Ternberry."

She wiped a nonexistent tear. "I do hope Flanders makes us leave tonight. Back to town, where it’s safe." Penelope’s eyes were lit with anticipation, even as she affected a shudder. Whoever made it back to London first would have the juiciest piece of gossip this season.

Lady Pettigrew fretted at the table, unsure whether to be pleased or nervous that her party would be on everyone’s tongues.

Lady Willoughby’s eyes narrowed, but she ignored Lady Flanders, who continued trying to fuel the hysteria in the room. "Esmerelda, do you know what the men are planning to do? I saw Lord Angelford speaking with you."

"Other than contacting the constable, I don’t know. I think it would be a mistake for the party to attempt the roads at this time of night. Too many opportunities for a broken wheel."

Penelope moaned. "Oh, no, we are trapped. Perhaps that is what the murderer is after. She will kill us all."

A couple of ladies gasped and one fainted on the blue velvet settee. Lady Pettigrew looked like she was choking.

"How do you know the murderer is a female?" Calliope asked.

Penelope raised a brow. "He was killed with a lady’s letter opener. "

How did she know? Calliope had been close to the body and it had been hard to see even from her vantage point. "A man could have stolen it."

The rest of the room had become silent and intent on their conversation. A couple of the men murmured their assent.

"Stolen? How?" Penelope postured for the audience.

"I suppose the way people normally steal. Pick it up and take it, " Calliope responded..

Penelope tapped her chin. "And maybe that person is trying to make it appear like a man took it in order to cover her tracks." She looked pointedly at Calliope. Calliope forced her mouth closed. It took effort.

Lady Willoughby shook her head in disgust.

Penelope turned on her. "Didn’t you find the body? What were you doing there? "

Roth walked into the room. "That’s enough." He looked at Penelope in displeasure.

"Now that you are here, of course it is." Penelope smiled but wisely took a step back into the crowd.

Lord Pettigrew huffed into the room, the rest of the men trailing at his heels. "The constable was summoned and is on his way. lf everyone could please go to his or her room I am sure this unfortunate incident will be resolved. The constable may need to talk to some of you."

A few of the guests hurried from the room, others reluctantly followed.

Pettigrew looked at Lady Flanders pointedly. "Your presence is unnecessary."

She smiled and dithered until Flanders walked into the room. "Good night, all. Do let me know if l can be of assistance."

Since her husband was present, Penelope no doubt figured she would get the details later.

Lady Willoughby started to follow her. Roth caught her and whispered something. A frightened look passed over her features, but she nodded. They walked to Pettigrew’s side to wait.

Calliope assumed she would be asked to remain, but James escorted her upstairs.

"This is not how I envisioned our evening to end." He tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. "Keep your door locked. I might be a while, there’s no telling how long the constable will remain."

He gave her a kiss on the forehead and was gone.

Calliope stood in the middle of the room. What to do? She pulled her knotted fingers from her dress. She wished she had a sketchpad to keep her fingers busy and her mind occupied.

The clock ticked.

Perhaps a short nap would help. She haphazardly disrobed and climbed into bed, placing a newly lit candle on the nightstand. The smooth sheets smelled clean, but they were freezing. Betsy must have forgotten a warm brick in the excitement. Calliope’s teeth chattered. She tried moving around to warm the covers, but it didn’t help.

Poor Ternberry. Forever cold.

Like her father.

She stared at the ceiling as the seconds ticked past. Then the minutes, then the hours. Booted feet clomped down the hallway and one pair stopped in front of her door. A key scraped the lock.

James stepped inside and shut the door. The nearly extinguished candle cast him almost into the shadows.

"Are we going to search tonight?" Calliope asked. She scooted until she was sitting against the headboard.

He shook his head. "Most people will be in their rooms. The ones who prefer to spend the night elsewhere are too risky. We don’t know which room they’ll choose."

"Who is still downstairs?"

"The constable just left. Pettigrew, Roth, Flanders and a couple of the others are retiring now."

"Was anything discovered?"

"Not yet. As expected, no one has claimed the letter opener."

"Lady Flanders said it was a woman’s letter opener."

James mulled the information. "A few of the men were discussing it. Penelope has ears for gossip. Did she say anything else?"

"She tried accusing me and then Lady Willoughby of the murder."

"What did you say?"

"Roth interrupted before I could counter. He is strung tightly tonight."

James sighed and sat down. "Both of us worked with Ternberry. I wasn’t fond of the man, but can’t say I wanted him dead."

"Would Roth?"

James shook his head in the negative and stood. "No, Roth liked to tease Ternberry, but I don’t recall any bad blood. Roth can be cold-blooded but this isn’t his style."

"What about Pettigrew?"

He began pacing. "Pettigrew worked with us as well. I would be unsurprised to find the letter opener belongs to his wife. It would be easy enough to steal on a weekend such as this."

James leaned his head back and put his hands in his trouser pockets. "I should have known. Should have put someone on Ternberry this morning. Thought I could wait until we were back in London."

"How would you have known?"

His face was flushed. "First Stephen, now Ternberry. I was so scared tonight. I saw the blond hair and…" James shuddered. "The worst thing is the relief after seeing it wasn’t Stephen. I actually felt relief it was Ternberry."

Calliope threw back the covers and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him. "Me too."

He hugged her tightly and then looked into her eyes. He let her go and walked to the decanter of brandy. He poured a finger, capped the bottle, uncapped the bottle and poured a bit more. He swirled it in the glass without taking a sip.

"Did Lady Willoughby go to the lake by herself?" Calliope asked.

"That is what she claims."

"And Roth was the first one to arrive?"

"That is what he claims."

"Odd, I didn’t take Lady Willoughby as the fast type."

"She’s not. I have no clue as to what she is doing here, in fact. She may be a widow, but she is a respectable widow. Never heard a single piece of gossip attached to her," James said.

"What do you suppose happened at the lake?"

"With Roth and Lady Willoughby? Or with Ternberry?"

"You think Roth and Lady Willoughby were there together?" Calliope asked.

"Yes. I’m as surprised as you."

"What were they doing?"

James gave a half smile. "They claim they weren’t together, remember?"

Calliope laughed. It felt odd, but good. She perched on the arm of the sitting chair and curled her cold toes under her nightgown. "What about Ternberry? Did you learn anything from his… from the body?"

"Ternberry wasn’t dead long. His face wasn’t bloated."

Calliope shivered. "What does Ternberry have to do with this? What does he have to do with my… father?"

"Other than being part of Salisbury ’s last mission? I don’t know. Ternberry wasn’t a member of our inner circle. He was always a bit on the outside. We were surprised when Holt chose him as secretary."

"Who was Ternberry close to?"

"No one on our list. Roth probably interacted with him more than anyone besides Holt. But Holt isn’t close to anyone. He can’t afford to be, in his position."

"Must be lonely. "

"Maybe that’s why he chose Ternberry."

"Ternberry came back to meet someone tonight, didn’t he?"

"All signs lead to him meeting the person who stabbed him. He wasn’t taken by surprise; there was no evidence of a struggle and he was stabbed from the front. He didn’t announce his return to Pettigrew or anyone else in the house, that anyone will admit."

Calliope mulled this information but the Salisbury connection kept intruding.

"What… when did you meet my father?"

"He took Stephen and me under his wing when we finished Oxford."

"What was it like? Working with him, I mean."

"He was very intelligent. Very dedicated. Never did anything half measure. I see a lot of him in you. He earned all of our respect and loyalty. "

"That’s why you were so angry last night when we were speaking of him."

James nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her. "We’ll sort the mess when we find Stephen." He seemed to consider his words and then nodded to himself, as if emphasizing the when in the statement.

The old feelings for her father resurfaced, but not as strongly this time. She felt a little better, wound a little less tightly than usual. "All right. I agree."

His shoulders relaxed a bit.

"We should talk to Ternberry’s servants," Calliope said.

The clock struck five.

"We can discuss our plans in the morning."

"It’s nearly dawn. This is the morning."

James grimaced. “I know. It will be a long day. "

"Are we going to stay here for the day?"

"No, I think we should return to London quickly. I don’t think there is much to uncover here."

Calliope nodded and padded over to the bed, snuggling into the covers, which were beginning to cool again.

James took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He put the full glass of brandy on the table.

He grabbed the blanket, which was folded on the settee, and shook it.

Calliope bit her lip. "James, why don’t you sleep here?"

He stilled and looked at her.

"Just to sleep," she added quickly.

He didn’t move for a long moment. He started undressing and her breath caught. Couldn’t he sleep in his eveningwear?

He left his undershirt and trousers on and slipped in beside her. Her heart was racing so fast it nearly popped out of her chest and smacked against the wall.

The bed, which had seemed ample before, now felt tiny. She didn’t dare move or she’d be plastered against him. She spent a few fretful moments trying to decide how to sleep.

What position to lie in? She settled on her side near the edge of the bed. What to do if he turned toward her?

The feelings he had stirred in the garden returned. She had never expected anything remotely like what she had experienced for the brief moments on the bench. No wonder the women whispered and giggled. Calliope had thought them mad.

She peeked over her shoulder, but he was still lying on his back, one knee in the air. His breathing was even.