Mrs. Jeffries & the Silent Knight by Emily Brightwell (black female authors .TXT) 📕

Charlotte to lower her voice.” Lucinda sniffed disapprovingly. “We have houseguests, and I didn’t want them disturbed.”

“Weren’t you concerned about what had happened to

your father?” Barnes queried.

Nina snorted faintly.

Lucinda shot her a quick glare before answering. “Father’s health hasn’t been good lately, so I thought perhaps he’d fallen. I didn’t think it was anything serious.”

“Even though your sister was screaming,” Witherspoon

pressed.

“Charlotte often screams,” Lucinda said. “It’s her nature.

She’s prone to hysterics.”

“I am not.” Charlotte leapt to her feet. “I’m not in the

least prone to hysterics.” Her voice rose as she spoke. “And

I’ll not sit here and be insulted.” She charged for the door,

swept out, and slammed it shut behind her.

“You were saying, Inspector,” Nina Braxton said coolly.

“You were asking Lucinda to explain herself.”

“I most certainly don’t need to explain myself,” Lucinda

snarled at her sister. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Nina smiled faintly. “Then why weren’t you alarmed

when you heard Charlotte screaming about Father.”

“I didn’t see you come flying out of your room,” Lucinda

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shot back. “And I told you, I thought Father had had a fall

or something. I didn’t think it was serious.”

“Miss Braxton!” Barnes yelled. He wanted to get back to

their questions. At the rate these sisters were sniping at one

another, they’d be here until Boxing Day. “Could you please

continue with your account?”

“If my sister would please refrain from interrupting, I’ll

get to the rest of it.” She glared at Nina, who totally ignored

her. “As I said, Charlotte was screaming that something had

happened to Father. When I came out into the hall, half the

household was standing there, Mrs. Merryhill and Cousin

Clarence and of course, the gardener.”

“They were all standing in the hall?” Witherspoon asked.

He couldn’t believe it. “Surely one of them must have stayed

with the body?”

“No, it was very cold out, you see,” she replied.

“The body had been discovered by then?” Barnes clarified.

Lucinda nodded. “Oh, yes, the gardener had already sent

the footman off to fetch a policeman. Mrs. Merryhill told

me that I’d best come quick, that Father was outside in the

ornamental pond. So we all trooped out into the snow and

had a look. He was there all right, lying face down in the

pond with the back of his skull crushed.”

“You saw this?” Barnes prodded. “In the dark?”

“Mrs. Merryhill had brought a lamp. So did Cousin

Clarence. But even if they hadn’t, you could see quite

clearly. It wasn’t a particularly dark night.”

“What did you do then?” Witherspoon asked.

“I told the gardener to pull Father out of the pond. Well,

it looked rather awful, what with him lying there like that,

and they did. They pulled him out and flopped him over

onto his back.”

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35

“By that time, the entire household was up,” Nina Braxton added. “They were making an awful racket.”

“I’ll thank you not to interrupt,” Lucinda snapped at her

sister. “And if you’d any decent feeling in you, you’d have

come right out to see what was wrong. But no, you stayed

warm in your bed while . . .”

“Please, Miss Braxton,” the inspector pleaded, “do go on

with your account.”

“As I was saying, they pulled Father out of the pond and

rolled him onto his back. It was obvious he was dead.”

“What happened then?” Witherspoon was almost afraid

to ask.

“What happened? Well, nothing. We stood about waiting for the police to arrive. We’re not fools, Inspector, it was apparent Father hadn’t died by natural causes.”

“Did anyone search the grounds?” Barnes asked.

Lucinda stared at him blankly. “Search the grounds?

What on earth for?”

“The murderer,” the constable replied. “He might have

still been here.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “We never thought of that,

and, in any case, none of us are properly equipped to deal

with a murderer. I should think that was something you

chaps ought to do.”

“Who actually discovered the body?” Witherspoon asked.

He remembered Constable Goring saying that it had been

the gardener, but it never hurt to double-check these things.

“I’ve told you already,” she said irritably. “The gardener.

Why else would he be in the house at that time of the

morning?”

“How did the gardener happen to be outside in the middle of the night?” Witherspoon asked.

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Emily Brightwell

“He said he heard something outside and went to have a

look. When he saw Father in the ornamental pond, he

roused the household.”

“I see,” Witherspoon replied.

“And they went and got Miss Charlotte?” Barnes had a

feeling the sequence of events for the evening might turn

out to be important.

“She was already up,” Nina interjected again. “She came

out onto the landing when she heard all the footsteps. She

was already fully dressed.”

Witherspoon turned his attention to the youngest sister.

“What time was this?”

“I believe Lucinda already said it was about half past

four,” Nina replied.

“Was it customary for Miss Charlotte Braxton to be up

and attired at such an early hour?” he pressed. The inspector

was beginning to get a headache. He didn’t think there was

much fondness between these sisters.

Nina shrugged. “I’ve no idea. You’ll have to ask her.”

Both the policemen looked at Lucinda. She, too,

shrugged her shoulders. “It’s no good either of you looking

at me, Charlotte’s nocturnal habits are her own business. Is

that all you needed to ask?”

“We’ll probably have more questions for you and your

sisters,” the inspector said quickly. “But we’ll ask them

later. I’m sure you’ve a number of important matters that

require your attention now.”

“Yes, I must make sure my fiancé hasn’t been unduly

upset at all the commotion. Raleigh’s got a very delicate

constitution.”

“Is the gentleman staying here at the house?” Barnes

looked up from his notebook.

“He’s here for Christmas.” She hurried out the door.

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37

Barnes glanced at the inspector and then at the last remaining sister. “May I have the names of everyone who was in the house last night?”

“Certainly,” Nina smiled coolly. “There were the servants, of course. Mrs. Merryhill can give you their names.

Then there were the three of us, Cousin Clarence, Raleigh

Brent, Fiona Burleigh, and Father.”

“When was the last time you saw your father alive?”

Witherspoon asked. He normally wouldn’t be quite so blunt

in his questions, but he was of the opinion that none of the

victim’s daughters were overly upset by the poor fellow’s

sudden death. They were acting as if it were just an inconvenience rather than