A Dangerous Collaboration (A Veronica Speedwell Mystery) by Deanna Raybourn (english novels for students .txt) 📕

changed my boots for thin slippers, and I smoothed my hair as I pulled my door closed behind me.

To my surprise, Stoker was just mounting the stairs, his black hair sleek with mist, his coat spotted with raindrops.

“Did you learn anything of note?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing save that the local cider is very, very potent. Were your inquiries more fruitful?”

I shrugged. “Mother Nance was amusing herself at my expense. But she did mention that Helen Romilly had purchased a charm from her.”

His dark brows rose. “Helen is dealing in love potions? I suspect she harbors a tendresse for Tiberius, but she’s wasted her coin if she thinks to lure him into matrimony.”

“It isn’t a love potion. It is a charm of protection. Whatever Helen fears, her feelings are sincere.”

We joined the others in the drawing room, where a sort of truce had been established. The casual meal gave a picnic air to the atmosphere with platters of cold meats and tiny casseroles of macaroni cheese jostling fruit compotes and a vast salad of greens from the castle gardens. Mertensia was freshening up the moss of one of her bowls of flowers while Helen presided over the soup tureen standing upon a sideboard and Tiberius stared out at the rising weather. Caspian was sunk low in a chair, sipping his tea and nibbling a leg of cold fowl. It was a peaceful, homely sort of scene, and anyone peering in from the storm-tossed gardens would have thought us the very picture of domestic serenity.

Or so we thought. Helen had just ladled a small bowl of soup for me when Mrs. Trengrouse entered, her eyes round with horror.

Mertensia paused in the action of rearranging the flowers. “Trenny, whatever is the matter? You look as if you had seen a ghost,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Trenny clutched at Tiberius’ sleeve and looked at us in turn, her eyes wild. “It’s the master. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“What do you mean?” Tiberius demanded.

“I mean that Mr. Malcolm has gone missing. God help us, the ghost has taken him!” And with that, she crumpled into a heap on the floor.

A quiet pandemonium erupted and it took several minutes before order was achieved out of the chaos. I moved at once to Mrs. Trengrouse whilst Caspian and Mertensia exchanged sharp words upon the matter of who should take charge.

“I am the man of the house in my uncle’s absence,” Caspian pronounced loftily.

Mertensia had to be forcibly restrained by Stoker from applying a sound slap to his cheek. I was busy burning a feather under Mrs. Trengrouse’s nose to revive her, when, to my astonishment, Tiberius stepped into the breach.

“That will do!” he said, clipping off the words with icy precision. If he had shouted—as Stoker no doubt would have done—the effect would have been arresting enough. But Tiberius’ chilly authority was sufficient to stop everyone in their tracks. “There is considerable turmoil at present without the two of you quarreling like children, and if you cannot behave, go to the nursery,” he ordered.

Mertensia and Caspian regarded him with mingled resentment and awe, but they lapsed into silence. Stoker dropped Mertensia’s arm, and she let it fall to her side, contenting herself with only a sullen look towards her nephew. Helen remained silent, sitting up very straight, Hecate the cat looking on with interest.

Tiberius went on. “Now, Caspian, I suggest you summon Daisy to help Mrs. Trengrouse to her room. Stoker, will she require further medical attention?” Stoker moved to the pale and distressed Mrs. Trengrouse, gently coaxing her to her feet and putting a steadying arm under hers. He gave her a quick, assessing look and shook his head at Tiberius.

“I think she will be right as rain with a strong cup of tea, perhaps with a measure of brandy thrown in, don’t you agree, Mrs. Trengrouse?”

The housekeeper spoke, her voice steadier than I would have imagined. “Bless you, sir. Yes. I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”

She stepped away from Stoker’s arm, brushing out her skirts and squaring her shoulders.

“You’re upset, Trenny darling,” Mertensia said. She took the housekeeper’s hand in her own, patting it awkwardly.

Tiberius turned his penetrating gaze to the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Trengrouse,” Tiberius said. “When was the last time your master was seen?”

She paused to think. “Last night. He was restless and could not sleep and I heard him walking the corridors.”

“What time was that?”

Her brow furrowed as she worked out the hours. “Midnight, my lord? Half past? I am afraid I was not paying attention.”

I held my tongue. I could give Tiberius the time based upon my own sighting of Mrs. Trengrouse during my investigations of the music room, but that conversation was best held in private. “Does he have a valet or other manservant I don’t know about?”

“Oh, no, my lord. He is a very self-sufficient gentleman. I attend to his clothing but otherwise he is content to take care of himself.”

“And no one noticed he was missing before now?” Tiberius’ tone was frankly incredulous.

“He always rises early,” Mertensia put in. “He often has trouble sleeping and even after a good night, he does not lie in.”

“You don’t miss him at breakfast?”

“His habits are not fixed. He will sometimes take a bit of cold meat and walk out early to look in on the crops or the quarry. Other times he will take nothing and break his fast with the tenant farmers. It is not unusual for him to absent himself through the morning, but none of the estate folk has seen him today.”

Tiberius looked to Trenny, who nodded in agreement with her young mistress. Tiberius gave her a nod of dismissal and she left, moving more slowly than was her custom.

“I do hope Trenny will be all right,” Mertensia lamented. “And where on earth can Malcolm have got to?”

“There, there,” Caspian told her in a surprisingly kindly voice. “It’s all right. I’m sure Uncle Malcolm is just off in