Crawford was happy to move on. “I agree—that is, indeed, the most likely scenario.”
“As to that,” Antonia said, “when the company was going up the stairs last night, Cecilia seemed…anxious, even nervous, over something. We all heard her.” Antonia glanced up at Sebastian.
He met her gaze and nodded. To the inspector and Sir Humphrey, he said, “She spoke of escaping this place. She claimed it was the atmosphere, but…” He shrugged. “I felt she was bothered over something, but also playing some sort of role.”
Antonia added, “I thought she seemed frightened, but it was an amorphous fear—as if she suspected one of the company of murdering Ennis, but didn’t know who—which one—it was.”
Sir Humphrey tugged at his ear lobe. “That she was frightened suggests she had reason to imagine the murderer might come after her.”
“True.” Sebastian let go of the chair, rounded it, and sat. “It’s possible she didn’t know who the killer was but had guessed what motive lay behind Ennis’s murder, and knew, therefore, that the murderer might suspect she knew enough of the plot to also pose a threat to him. Regardless, she didn’t suspect the man who murdered her. There was no sign of any struggle. She was taken entirely unawares.” He paused, then arched his brows. “Much as with Ennis. Neither he nor Cecilia felt threatened by the murderer until he struck.”
“Very well.” Crawford looked down at his jottings. “The murderer is a man—no woman could have strangled her ladyship, not with their bare hands, as was done. So who among the male guests remain on our list of suspects?” The inspector looked at Sebastian, then at Antonia. “Could any of the other men have been…involved with her ladyship?”
Antonia glanced at Sebastian. “I saw nothing that made me think so.”
Sebastian looked at Sir Humphrey. “It’s possible, but I wasn’t specifically watching for signs of it.”
“You might try asking the older ladies—Mrs. Parrish and Mrs. McGibbin,” Antonia said. “If Lady Ennis had had a lover among the guests, they are more likely to have noticed. However, those ladies’ husbands would have to go on your list of possibles—with the Ennises, the Parrishes, and the McGibbins, husbands and wives have separate rooms.” She paused, then added, “The only men you can strike from your list are Earith and Mr. Featherstonehaugh. Hadley and Georgia are newlyweds, and Georgia would certainly know if Hadley crept out, quite aside from him not being that way inclined.”
Sir Humphrey cleared his throat. “Just so.” He glanced at the list the inspector had compiled. “That leaves us with rather a lot of possibles for the positions of murderer and her ladyship’s lover.”
“And,” Sebastian added dryly, “the murderer and her lover could be one and the same.”
Antonia blinked. “Actually, there’s something we’ve forgotten to mention.” She glanced at Sebastian. “In the conservatory yesterday evening, we overheard Filbury and Wilson speaking with Cecilia—we were out of sight, and they assumed they were speaking in private. This was a little before we all retired.”
Crawford looked keen; he leaned forward. “What was said?”
Antonia frowned, clearly trying to recall.
Sebastian couldn’t help her; his recollection of those moments had been largely overwritten by more vivid memories of the taste of her lips, the feel of her in his arms.
“They—the two men—were asking about the Irish estate.” Antonia glanced at him; he met her gaze and fractionally shook his head. Apparently realizing he couldn’t remember, she looked at Crawford and went on, “They couched their queries in terms of being friends of the family and friends of Connell. In essence, they wanted to know if there was anything going on there—on the estate—to cause concern. Cecilia didn’t seem to know of anything amiss.”
“So…” Sir Humphrey narrowed his eyes. “Filbury and Wilson could simply have been asking as concerned friends, as they claimed, or they might have been sounding out her ladyship to see what she knew of…whatever this is that’s going on, which seems somehow connected with Ireland.”
“Exactly.” Antonia nodded.
After a moment, Crawford sighed and closed his notebook. “If only Lady Ennis had told us what she’d suspected, she might still be alive.”
Sebastian stared at the inspector for a moment, then grimaced. “In defense of her ladyship, there might not have been time. I think her suspicions evolved through the day—the longer she thought about her husband’s murder.”