A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,52

on the scene a moment later, whistling a tune as he buttoned up his breeches.

"A call of nature," he offered in apology to Henry's quelling glare.

"You have been caught, Fairweather," Henry continued, stalking over to the farmer, who had a footman holding on to each arm, "And not only for poaching; we know that it was you who murdered Mr Parsims and Monsieur Canet."

"No," the farmer gave a howl of rage, "I didn't murder anyone. I'll admit to the poaching, but I didn't kill anyone."

"You murdered Mr Parsims because he knew about your scheme," Henry continued, ignoring the man's rantings, "He had been extorting money from you for heaven knows how long, and you were tired of it--weren't you, Fairweather?"

"No," Mr Fairweather shook his head, his expression one of rage.

"You were tired of wondering if one day he would expose you to the authorities, then on the night of the assembly you saw him flirting with your wife and something inside you snapped."

"No," Fairweather shook his head stubbornly, "That's not what happened.After I left the ball, I went to go hunting. I knew I could take what I wanted, with everyone distracted by that ruddy assembly."

"A likely story," Mr Marrowbone boomed, taking Henry aback with his enthusiasm. The constable had puffed out his chest in self-importance and was looking almost professional to Henry's eye.

"You're playing the oldest trick in the book," Mr Marrowbone continued, "Admitting to a lesser sin, in order to distract from the greater sin you committed. Don't think you can try that with me, laddie, for I do it myself with Mrs Marrowbone. You can't cheat a cheater."

Well, Henry thought with a rueful sigh, there went the air of professionalism.

"After you killed Mr Parsims," Henry continued, lest Mr Marrowbone think it prudent to speak again, "Monsieur Canet got nervous. He knew that it was you who had murdered the rector and he was getting cold feet about your joint endeavour. Did he tell you when you returned from Stroud that he no longer wished to facilitate the sale of your poached game?"

"No."

Again, Fairweather stubbornly shook his head. All the fight had gone out of him and he was no longer struggling against the footmen's grip. He was, Henry thought, thoroughly defeated.

"You became enraged," Henry continued, picturing the scene clearly in his eye, "You were angry that your line of credit might run out and fearful that Canet would turn traitor--so you stabbed him in the neck."

"I did no such thing," Mr Fairweather roared, pulling against his captors in one final show of strength, "Monsieur Canet was my friend. He was the one who showed me that I did not have to live in servitude to the landed gentry; he showed me how unequal this land is, and how men like me toil and suffer for others' gain. I took a stand against the corruption of our land, and I will not apologise for it, but I did not kill Monsieur Canet."

"That sounds like seditious talk to my ears," Henry replied, unimpressed by Fairweather's ranting, "And I wonder if you shared your ill-gotten gains with those less fortunate than you again?"

Fairweather was conspicuously mute.

"No," Henry sighed, "I did not think so."

"Right, boys," Marrowbone interrupted, clapping his hands together impatiently, "I have my man. Let's take him to Stroud, to the cell in the courthouse. I'll arrange transport to Bristol tomorrow."

Henry blinked, taken aback by the appearance of Marrowbone's hitherto hidden organisational skills.

"Thank you for your help in the investigation, Your Grace," Marrowbone continued, as he supervised the footmen in loading Fairweather into the carriage, "I shall take it from here."

"And take all the credit, no doubt," Henry muttered, though he found he was not too put out by Marrowbone wishing to claim all the glory.

There was only one person whom Henry wished to share the successful conclusion of this saga with, and that was Miss Mifford.

Time moved slowly for a spell, as Henry sorted out the practicalities of the next steps. He explained to a shocked and silent Mrs Fairweather that her husband was being taken to the court in Stroud, where the next day a judge would likely have him sent on to Bristol to the Crown Court there. Henry did not say that this court would likely condemn Mr Fairweather to hang, but from the thin-lipped frown she gave, he knew that Mrs Fairweather knew this herself.

"I will send a carriage to take you to Stroud for the hearing," Henry said, before he left. Mrs Fairweather