Miss Hastings' Excellent London Adventure (Brazen Brides Book 4)(36)

 

Adam wondered if he could have handled that better.

 

Emma leapt to her feet and went to comfort the weeping woman, whilst glaring at him. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Thornton." Emma cupped a hand on the woman's arm. "I am so grateful that Uncle had you to care for him."

 

Mrs. Thornton looked up at Emma through bleary eyes and attempted a smile.

 

"I know it's difficult," Adam said, "but can you describe the scene when you found him?”

 

The housekeeper nodded, sniffing. She began, but her voice was thin, like that of one just short of hysteria. Made him feel like a bloody reprobate.

 

"Davis—that's Mr. Hastings' valet—told me Mr. Hastings hadn't slept in his bed. On a few occasions Mr. Hastings fell asleep in the library, so I went there with the intention of awakening him. It wasn't like him to sleep so late." She stopped and drew a shaky breath. "When I walked into the library, he was sitting in his chair. At first I thought he was asleep, but as I came closer, I saw the . . . the vomit down the front of him." Here her voice was a low moan. "Thinking he was sick, I stood there asking him in a loud voice if there was anything I could do for him. There was nooooooo answer," she wailed.

 

After a short pause, she continued. "It was a moment before the idea that he might be dead slammed into me. I froze. I couldn't bring myself to determine if he was still alive. I turned around and raced up the stairs to get Davis.

 

"Davis is the one who felt for a pulse. His face was ashen and he was trembling mightily when he turned around and told me Mr. Hastings was dead. It was such a shock to both of us because Mr. Hastings had always been so healthy. Cook blamed herself. Said he'd never have had a stomach complaint if he'd eaten her food. She had left him some of Saturday's bread and some cheeses, but she thinks he must have eaten elsewhere, and it must have killed him."

 

"What happened next?" Adam asked.

 

"Davis said he would clean up his master. He and the butler carried Mr. Hastings upstairs, and laid him on his bed. I asked the downstairs parlor maid to clean around Mr. Hastings's chair. Then I got out of the room and never went back. It was too painful. "

 

"Did Uncle die in his favorite chair?" Emma asked.

 

Mrs. Thornton nodded.

 

"Was there a glass beside his chair? Perhaps an empty glass?"

 

"There was no glass. I looked at his table to see if there was something there that could have made him so sick."

 

* * *

 

Once they were back in the carriage, Emma turned to him. "I feel so flat. I feel as if my suspicions have been validated, but there's no joy in knowing my poor uncle was most likely murdered."

 

He covered her hand with his. "There can't possibly be joy in such knowledge, but I am most proud of my wife for her fine deductive reasoning."

 

His comment lifted the mantle of gloom which had settled on her. "What do you think we should do next, my dearest husband?" How she loved saying that! How she wished she could use true endearments with him. He only used his endearments to convince others theirs was a normal marriage.

 

"I'm thinking we shall need Sawyer's lock-picking talents once again."

 

"You mean to go back inside Uncle's house again?"

 

He squeezed her hand. "Unless it would be too painful for you."

 

"It will be painful, since I feel as if I know him a little better after getting Mrs. Thornton's perspective, but I'm angry, too. I don't care about the money or the house or the tea company. I care that my kindly uncle was cruelly murdered—and for no other reason than to steal his fortune. I'll not stop until the thieving, murdering spawn of Lucifer is brought to justice." She glared at him. “I, sir, happen to believe there’s a devil.”

 

"If there is, then the man who killed your uncle deserves his fiery fate. Your uncle sounded like an admirable man. I'm sorry I wasn't a more friendly neighbor."

 

"Don't be. Had he wanted more friends, he would have made overtures. From what Mrs. Thornton said, his chief interest and the thing that pleased him most was sitting in his library. Just him and his books."

 

"I still wish I'd known him."

 

"So do I," she said solemnly.

 

"I'm trying to decide if we've enough time to do a thorough search of his house today, or if we should wait until tomorrow and devote the entire day to it." He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. "Don't forget we go to the theatre tonight, and I want you to be ravishing."

 

Her bows lowered. "I'm not quite sure how the word ravishing applies to a woman in a theatre box."