Behold, a Mystery! Read online

  “He must have been hiding in that closet for hours,” I said. “Mary was in and out of my room. It is odd she did not see him, or hear him.”

  “He hid in an unused room until he found his chance to get into your bedchamber unseen, not long before you retired for the night. I had Horatio on the qui vive in the armaments-room, thinking Felix would come from Weldon’s. I knew he would hide his carriage there, as he did. I was also on the lookout myself, but he managed to get through despite us. I thought you were safe when you got the new lock for your door, Jess. Your arguments about the window showed me that was an unlikely route. What I never suspected was that he was already hiding in your closet, waiting, as you had obligingly left your door unlocked.”

  His fingers tightened on mine until my hand ached, and a shadow of lingering fear darkened his eyes. It was sweeter than a declaration of love.

  Horatio shook his head. “If old Hettie had only made a sensible will, none of this would have happened.”

  “Speak no ill of the dead,” Otto said. “It was Felix’s pride and Weldon’s greed that did the work. Weldon is being locked up as well, of course. I asked Croton to send a couple of men with the constable. Weldon could overpower Hodgkins with no trouble.”

  Anita sighed in disbelief. “It is inconceivable to me that a man would kill only to conceal that he had falsely claimed to have translated a book.”

  “Yes, and the fact is, very few would have listened to Weldon,” Otto said. “It is not uncommon for some crackpot to come forward and claim authorship of a popular work. It would have been a tempest in a teapot. But Felix’s conscience was troubling him too. He knew the work was beyond his skills, and thought that others would believe Weldon’s claim without hesitation.”

  Anita rose and stretched her arms. “Well, it is a great pity, but at least it is over. We will be able to go to London now, I should think?”

  “We’ll hear from Croton in the morning,” Horatio said. “There will be a trial and all that, but we need not stay here in the meanwhile. We are not criminals, after all, but only witnesses. Nasty business, trials, especially in the family. Of course Felix is only a connection of ours, not real family.”

  “Gregory will feel it,” Anita said with a speaking glance that hinted money would ease his suffering. Of course I would give him something more than the two hundred and fifty pounds. His fifth, perhaps, and the same to Horatio. Anita bid us all good night and went upstairs to comfort her lover.

  Horatio topped off his glass, leaned back and said, “About the doctored Madeira you was fed, Jess, that was Felix’s work too, though it was my bottle he stole from the armaments-room. Wouldn’t want you to think I did it. He was planning a peaceful death for you, but hadn’t got around to giving the wine to you yet. He had it standing by in the study, where he usually works.”

  “I don’t think Felix wanted to murder anyone,” I said. “He is not violent by nature. I am sure he hated every moment of it.” Still, as I remembered that fight for my life in the dark, I could not find much sympathy for him.

  Otto cast a commanding eye at his brother. “Isn’t that glass empty yet?” he asked impatiently.

  “Eh? Why are you giving me that evil eye? Do you want to be alone with Jess?” Horatio asked.

  “That would be nice,” Otto said.

  “Can take a hint. Before I go I would like to say—we’ll have to take Jess to Mama, Otto. She will want to get away from Downsview for a while. Bound to have nightmares in that room. The clothes-press and all ... Shocking. Well, I am off then. No point going to bed. Wonder if Cook is up and about yet.”

  He wandered from the room talking to himself, and at last I was alone with Otto.

  “I’m sorry I thought it was you,” I said. “When I saw you putting those forged letters in Aunt Hettie’s folder—”

  His fingers touched my lips, stopping my apologies, and sending a thrill tingling up my spine.

  “That was foolish of me. Let us not begin apologizing or we shall be here all day. I was desperate to prove that I had loved you long before the infamous will was read. I did write to Hettie, though I doubt I shall ever prove it. It seems my letters alone were considered worthy of the dustbin.”

  “I wager she destroyed them to ensure I never saw them.”

  “That is possible. I came here this year determined to carry you away with me. What I wanted to discuss with you on that ride we never took was my lawsuit. I was afraid that might dissuade you. I knew Hettie would make a meal of it, forecasting penury, the loss of the Clarion, and disgrace at court.”

  “Oh, Otto! As if I care for that!”

  He smiled fondly. “Mere bagatelles! What an excellent wife you will make. You know what is important and what is not. Actually the scandal will all be swept under the carpet to keep the rest of Prinney’s sins company. It was a bluff that did not work.”

  “And even if you do lose the case—we will have Aunt Hettie’s money. I mean—that is—if you still ...” I looked at him, suddenly embarrassed.

  A soft smile lit on his lips and spread up to light his eyes. “I do, still, despite your thinking me a liar and a murderer, and the rest of society thinking I married you for your money. For better or for worse, you know, as the marriage vows say.”

  “It could hardly be worse than these past days.”

  “Let us begin the New Year right. Good God!” He stopped and looked surprised. “This is the last day of December. Tonight will be New Year’s Eve. If we hurry, we can spend it at Cleremont, as I had planned. Well, not quite as I had planned,” he added ruefully, “but we shall celebrate our betrothal all the same.”

  As he drew me into his arms for a long, sweet embrace, his lips, without saying a word, spoke volumes of a bright future. Time, which heals all wounds, would soften the harsh memory of this past week, leaving the happier times to conjure with in an idle hour.

  We would return in the spring for Aunt Hettie’s interment. I would go to Bath to visit Mrs. Manner’s grave, but we would also come back to Downsview from time to time. Hettie did not want it sold, and despite the wretched happenings of the past week I was reluctant to part with it. Perhaps we would come at the end of each year for a visit.

  Copyright © 1995 by Joan Smith

  Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 978-0449221761)

  Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.