“Thank you.” Satisfied, Sir Humphrey cast his gaze over the gentlemen. “So the ladies left at twenty minutes past nine. I assume the gentlemen remained to pass the decanters?”
Most of the men nodded.
Sebastian stated, “As I recall, all the gentlemen remained in the dining room, at the table, for only a relatively short time. About ten minutes after the ladies left, Ennis excused himself on the grounds of having some pressing matter of business to deal with.”
Sir Humphrey glanced around, and a number of men murmured agreement. “So,” Sir Humphrey concluded, “the critical question for all the gentlemen will be where each of you were between half past nine and ten o’clock, when Lord Earith found Ennis dead.”
There was silence for a moment, then Mrs. McGibbin exclaimed, “Great heavens, sir! You can’t possibly think that any of those here stabbed his lordship.” She sounded faintly incredulous and genuinely shocked.
“I gather the study window was open,” Hadley Featherstonehaugh said. “Surely Ennis came upon some vagrant rifling his desk, and the miscreant stabbed him and escaped.”
Sir Humphrey inclined his head. “We are pursuing that notion.”
“Good Lord!” Mrs. Parrish had paled. “A murdering vagrant on the loose. Why, any of us might be murdered in our beds!”
Antonia uttered a muted but plainly derisive sound.
With his hands, Sir Humphrey gestured for calm. “There’s no cause for panic—I will be leaving constables on watch inside the house and around about. You needn’t fear any villain will get in. However, I must insist that, until the inspector arrives and gives you leave, you must all remain at the house.”
The announcement elicited various mumbled comments and several grumbling ones, but in the face of Cecilia’s grief, her guests refrained from making any more strident complaint.
“So can we go to our rooms, then?” Melinda Boyne asked somewhat plaintively.
“Yes, indeed.” Sir Humphrey gave a short bow. “Thank you for your forbearance. I will return in the morning with the inspector, and we’ll evaluate where we are then.”
The company didn’t wait for further encouragement. Most rose and made for the door in twos and threes.
Sir Humphrey walked to where Cecilia sat, exchanged a few quiet words, then, with a last general nod, headed for the door.
Antonia looked at Sebastian. When he met her eyes, she murmured, “We can’t talk here. Let’s go up.”
Together, they rose and fell in behind Mrs. Parrish and Mrs. McGibbin, who between them were supporting Cecilia upstairs.
Considering Cecilia—considering the depth of shock he’d glimpsed in her eyes—Sebastian wondered if she’d known anything of Ennis’s fears. He did not for a moment imagine she was in any way complicit in her husband’s murder; quite aside from her eminently sincere grief, he couldn’t imagine that becoming a widow would ever have been a part of the future Cecilia had planned. If he’d been asked, he would have said she’d enjoyed her life as it had been; she and Ennis had understood each other, and regardless of their dalliances, had got along well.
He and Antonia left Mrs. McGibbin and Mrs. Parrish helping a wilting Cecilia into her room.
The instant they’d passed under the archway and into the east wing, Antonia’s fingers curled into his sleeve, and she tugged, then towed him up the corridor to her room.
She opened the door. He glanced quickly down the corridor—confirming it was deserted—then followed her inside and shut the door behind him.
Antonia lit the lamp that stood on a side table by the armchair near the fireplace. She adjusted the wick until the lamp shed a golden circle of light over the area before the hearth. Then she straightened and looked at Sebastian; he’d followed her and had halted before the hearth, and now stood gazing into the fire. “What on earth did Ennis mean?” she asked. “Gunpowder here. Here, where?”
Lit principally by the firelight, Sebastian’s features appeared chiseled and harsh. His lips thinned. “Precisely. Here meaning England. Here meaning south-east England, including London. Here meaning Kent or this stretch of coast. Or here meaning this estate or even just the house.”
She folded her arms and gripped her elbows. She felt chilled, as if the proximity of violent death had cast an icy pall over her. “He could have meant any of those as far as I can see.” She started to pace back and forth, a yard before the hearth and parallel to it—driven by restlessness more than anything else.
“Hmm.” Sebastian straightened his shoulders, then glanced at her and saw her pacing. He hesitated for a second, then turned and fell to pacing, too. His longer strides carried him around her on a roughly oval track.