magistrate been here since the funeral, to investigate?”
The butler shook his head. “No one has been investigating here, sir.”
“I need you to take a few minutes from your duties and write down which servants accompanied my uncle down from town on his last visit. Also I want to know if he had any visitors, even neighbors. Include everyone who was here for any reason his last three days.”
The butler nodded. “A bad business, sir, if I may say so. Both shocking and sad. No one could have foreseen it.”
“Foreseen it? What do you think happened?”
The butler flushed. “I’m sure I don’t know. I was only referring to his death itself, not—that is to say, I wasn’t implying—”
Of course he was, but to say it would be to invite more questions when one of his duties was to see there were none at all.
There could be only two ways Uncle Frederick went over that parapet. Either he fell by accident. Or he was pushed. So why did he think the butler believed it might have been a third possibility, and the one no one considered—that Uncle Frederick had jumped?
No, he was wrong. One other had considered it. Peel. A conclusion that casts aspersions on your uncle’s good name. He had not paid much attention to that vague allusion, but he now realized just what Peel probably meant.
It took him half an hour just to ride to the border of the estate, and another to reach the nearest village. His destination lay beyond that, so he passed through the town down its main lane. While he circled the churchyard, he noticed some color amidst the plantings. A spot of dark blue bobbed in and out behind the branches of the shrubbery. He paused his horse and waited for the blue to become more visible, but instead it disappeared.
He scrutinized the garden, searching for not blue, but gray. No other unexpected colors showed. He moved on, laughing at himself. Minerva was in Brighton. It was ridiculous to see evidence of her wherever he went, like some green boy infatuated for the first time. Still, that blue had looked much like the blue worn by her companion, so he could be partly excused.
He wondered what she was up to in Brighton. A brief holiday, perhaps. Or she could be getting into trouble. Why did he think the latter more likely?
Outside the village he stopped and consulted his pocket map. A mile farther, and two turns off the main road, he approached a cottage of respectable size. Behind it he could see the bank of a small lake. In front of it rested a horse hitched to a gig.
He hoped that gig did not mean Mr. Edkins had a caller.
He dismounted, tied his horse to a fence post, and strode to the door. Just as he was about to knock, it opened. He found himself facing the crown of a gray bonnet.
“You have been so generous, sir. I will be sure to give Mrs. Fowler your regards.” A lovely hand rose to wave good-bye and the gray bonnet turned. One step brought the owner of the gray ensemble close enough to almost bounce off his nose.
She looked up, startled.
She glanced over her shoulder and gave Mr. Edkins a dazzling smile. “It appears you have another caller.”
“Odd that. Normally I have none and now it is two in one day.” Mr. Edkins, a man of middle years and closely cropped brown hair, adjusted his spectacles and gave Chase a good examination.
“I have indeed called,” Chase said. “I hope that you will receive me even if you have already been intruded upon.”
“I suppose I can spare a bit more time.”
“Give me a few minutes with your last guest, please, before I ask that of you.”
Mr. Edkins closed the door. With nary a greeting, Minerva walked toward the gig. Chase followed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Bringing this good man greetings from Mrs. Fowler. They shared the same household for years.” She untied the horse’s ribbons and moved to the gig’s side.
Chase looked back at the cottage. Mr. Edkins could be seen watching from a window. He turned back to Minerva. “Do not move this gig until I come out.”
She pursed her lips. “I hope that was not the command it sounded to be.”
Damnation, the woman was infuriating at times. “Just. Don’t. Move.”
She climbed onto the gig and took the ribbons in her hands. “I think it will look very odd to Mr. Edkins if I sit in this gig