“Here you are,” Lady Arnifour fairly purred.
“Ma'am.” He stood up and I saw that he was barely taller than our hostess.
“You must be Mr. Heffernan.” Colin stuck out his hand.
“If you aren't here to arrest me, you can call me Victor. Everyone does.”
“I assure you, Victor,” Colin smiled amiably, “I have no interest in arresting anyone.”
Victor Heffernan stared at Colin, a dark curling mustache an accent mark above his lips, and appeared to be trying to determine whether we meant trouble. Colin kept smiling, revealing nothing, his dimpled grin as natural as the rose petals Victor had been fussing among. He appeared to be about twice as old as Colin's thirty-eight years, but even so, I could tell he had no idea what to make of us.
“This is Colin Pendragon.” Lady Arnifour came forward in a peculiarly maternal way. “I've hired him to prove you and Nathaniel innocent of this tragedy.” She let her voice drift off as though she was overcome by the very thought.
“Now, now . . .” Victor reached out and patted his mistress's hand with marked intimacy. “Don't get yourself worked up again.”
Lady Arnifour gave a tight smile and took a slight step back, effectively moving out of his reach. Victor seemed to realize his indiscretion and suddenly stumbled backwards, carelessly slicing off the top of an errant rose. I was beginning to believe that Colin's initial assessment of the alibi Lady Arnifour could provide this man might be true.
“Would you take them down to see what's left of the barn?” she said. “I simply cannot bear to go.”
“Of course. I'll go hitch up the buckboard.”
“Thank you.” Lady Arnifour gave him a gentle nod as he headed off. “I'll wait for you in the study.”
“When we come back I'd like to check on your niece.” Colin tipped his chin toward me. “Mr. Pruitt knows something of wounds and healing and such.”
“But I'm not a doctor,” I pointed out.
He clapped my shoulder. “That he's not, but he can be a fount of medical bric-a-brac just the same.”
I fought to keep from scowling at him as I caught Lady Arnifour glancing my way. What little knowledge I possess was learned by necessity during a regrettable tenure spent in the coarser areas of the city during my youth. It is not something I prefer to advertise, so I was relieved when Victor and his buckboard came rounding the corner of the house. Two minutes later the three of us were trundled onto the open seat of the wagon heading for the farthest reaches of the Arnifour estate.
CHAPTER 3
O
ur journey began in relative silence with only the occasional snort of the horse to interrupt the steady drone of our wheels as we rocked along the dirt ruts of the driveway, me watching the breadth of their property unfold while Colin appeared to be studying nothing in particular as he smoothly coaxed another crown between the fingers of his hand. The moment we turned off the path and started out across an open field, however, Colin turned to Victor and began peppering him with questions about the family history.
“Barnaby Langhem was given this property and the title of Baron by King George the Third, himself,” he said with evident pride. “Lord Langhem was Lady Arnifour's great-grandfather and was one of the men responsible for keepin' that poor man on the throne until long after he shoulda been removed.” He snickered. “Not six months later the King had a violent fit and accidentally throttled Lord Langhem, which meant that the land, but not the title, was passed on to his eldest son, Jacob. That's when the great house was builtâpaid for by a royal decree under the circumstances. That's when the whole Langhem family moved in and my family first began workin' for them.
“Everybody prospered under Jacob, but his life also came to a sudden end not more than ten years later. He either slipped in the mud stirred up by a downpour and was run over by a funeral carriage making haste to a plot before it was turned into a quagmire, or the carriage cut a corner too close and ran him down. Whichever the case, the outcome was the same.
“That left the estate and all its lands to Jacob's eldest son, Alanon.” He heaved a weary sigh and I knew the story was becoming personal. “Alanon liked women and drink, and spent more time going through the Langhem fortune than addin' to it. He and his wife only had one childâa daughter, the future Lady Arnifour herself.”
“What about bastards?” Colin muttered.
Victor shrugged. “None that I ever heard about.”
“And what happened to him?” I asked before Colin could toss out another indelicacy.
“Unfortunately, he lived into his eightieth year before he finally took a tumble out an upper-story window into the garden below. Destroyed the family's prize roses, not to mention the damage he'd done to the Langhem name and fortune. A real pity.”
“And as his only surviving heir,” Colin interrupted, “Lady Arnifour inherited the estate, such as it is.”
“That's right.”
“Must have been a shock to the Earl to discover he'd married into a family almost as penniless as his own.”
Victor glanced at Colin and shrugged self-consciously. “I wouldn't know about that,” he said, but his manner suggested otherwise.
A moment later we skirted around a stand of trees and caught our first glimpse of the charred remains of a small building a short distance off. “The barn . . . ,” Colin muttered as he flipped the coin into his vest pocket and stared at the approaching destruction. It was impossible to notice anything else beyond the hulking blackened wreck, its remains baking in the sun like some great sea creature's carcass that had managed to wash up on this waterless terrain. Only the stinging residue of charred wood lingered to assault the nostrils.
Victor pulled the horse up short and Colin hopped out, walking in a sideways arc around the ruined barn. “Did the Earl and Lady Arnifour raise their family here then?”
“They did. Lady Arnifour has spent her whole life here. Born and reared in that very house.”
“And the niece too?” he asked as he continued to take slow, careful steps toward the wreckage, studying the ground meticulously as he drew nearer as though the earth itself might reveal some clue.
“Yes,” Victor muttered as he stared out at the horizon, an odd look of discomfort clouding his gaze.
We both watched Colin kick at something with the toe of his boot and then crouch down to inspect it. Only after he stood up and brushed his hands against his slacks, having lost interest in whatever he'd been pawing at, did I turn back to Victor and ask, “How long ago did Alanon Langhem die?”
“Eldon was just a tot. Must be almost thirty years ago.”
“He must've been pretty angry when he learned she'd married a title without the means to pluck him out of debt.” Colin chuckled. “That's so often the way: antiquated titles without a farthing for a piss pot.”
Victor shrugged.
“Tell me something,” Colin called out from within the remains of the barn. “Who came out here the night of the attack?”
“Lord Eldon, Nathaniel, and me.”
“Did you take any notice as to how the blaze was started?”
I watched as Victor's face registered an obvious level of confused disbelief. “Kerosene,” he said. “The whole place smelled of kerosene just like it does now.”
Colin smiled without even bothering to throw a glance at us. “Quite so.” He wandered around a minute, glancing at what was left, toeing a few fallen timbers and running his fingers down the black framework. All the while his eyes flicked from place to place and I knew he was trying to take everything in, to remember it. “Why don't you tell me about that night,” he said as he sauntered out the far side.
“There's not much to tell,” Victor said, his gaze still locked on the horizon. “It was after supper. Nathaniel and I eat in the kitchen with Mrs. O'Keefe. I was done first, same as always, and had gone out to the stable by the house to check on the horses, and that's when I noticed Miss Elsbeth's horse was gone. Don't get me wrong; there's nothing unusual in that. She and Lady Kaylin often go out for a ride in the evening.”
“But was it unusual for Elsbeth to go alone?”
“Not really.” Victor lifted his cap and scratched his scalp, glancing down at his feet. “She goes off by herself as often as not. She's an independent sort.” He smiled, and for a moment I thought I detected a note of pride. “She always takes care of herself . . . ,” he started to say, and then winced as he registered the irony of his words. “ 'Til that night.”
“Of course,” Colin replied absently, drawn more to the scorched earth than anything Victor was saying. “Go on.”
“I was putting the tack up and tending a mare when Nathaniel came running in shouting about seein' smoke on the horizon. We didn't know it was the barn. From the house it looked like part of the woods was on fire.”
“How long had you been in the stable before Nathaniel came in?”
“About an hour, maybe less.”
More than enough time for Nathaniel to have come down here, perpetrated the attack, and returned to the stable to report the smoke, I realized. His father certainly wasn't providing much of an alibi.
“And what happened then?” Colin prodded.
“I grabbed two horses straightaway. Didn't even bother with saddles. But before we could get the bridles in place Lord Eldon came out hollering about the smoke and insisting on goin' with us. Mind you, he can't ride bareback, so I had to take the time to get a third mount ready before we could get under way. As soon as his horse was sorted Lord Eldon took off. Didn't wait for us.”
I could tell he was still aggrieved by Eldon's behavior; the extra time he had cost them, and his determination to get under way first, but he did not dare utter the words.
“Do continue,” Colin said without seeming to have taken note.
“Nathaniel and I followed Lord Eldon and we all ended up here.”
I thought his story came to a decidedly abrupt conclusion.
“So . . .” Colin put his hands on his hips and turned toward us, having apparently finished investigating the ground. “Eldon got here firstâ”
“By a deer's breath. It was past supper, Mr. Pendragon, and you can be sure Lord Eldon had consumed his share of drink by then. Nathaniel and I were able to catch up to him by the time we got here.”
“But you didn't overtake him.”
“Lord Eldon was riding like Death himself was chasing him. I'd say his condition kept him from realizing just how reckless he was being.”
“Of course. And what did you find when you got here?”
“The barn was in flames. Most of it had already collapsed.” He gestured with his chin. “Just like you see now. Nathaniel spotted the Earl. He was laid out just about where you're standing,” he said, his brow slowly furrowing.
Colin gave a quick smile and I knew he'd already figured that out. “And Elsbeth?” he asked. “Where was she found?”
“On the other side. Closer to the woods. We never would've even looked for her if I hadn't seen her horse stamping at the tree line.” He gestured to the woods just beyond.
“The horse hadn't run off?”
“No, sir,” Victor said proudly. “The Arnifours have fine animals. Trained never to abandon their riders. Nathaniel and I seen to that.”
“Impressive.”
“It was Nathaniel who found Miss Elsbeth too.” He dropped his gaze again. “It was terrible.”
“Was she unconscious when you found her?” Colin asked as he headed off in the direction Victor had gestured.
“Yes, sir. It was her face. . . .” He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head again. “I didn't think she was alive.”
“And the Earl? Had he been beaten the same way?”
“No, sir. He was the opposite of Miss Elsbeth. He was facedown with the back of his head stove in. Whoever hit him meant to kill him. An awful sight.” He kept his gaze lowered and I couldn't tell if he was swamped by the memory or if it was something else.
“Did you find any sort of weapon nearby?”
“No, sir.”
“Elsbeth was about here then?” Colin called as he reached a position a dozen or so yards beyond the ruined barn.
Victor barely glanced up. “About that.”
Colin knelt to the ground and fingered several spots before standing up and finally coming back around to where Victor and I were. “It was clearly a most unfortunate scene,” he said as he reached us.
“Yes, it was.”
“I only need trouble you with two more questions.”
Victor nodded.
“Did you notice if the Earl had been robbed?”
“No, sir. But the inspector found a roll of bills in his pocket and said he still had his gold watch on him.”
“It's always important to rule out the obvious,” Colin murmured. “Which brings me to my last question. Did it appear that Elsbeth had been violated in any way?”
“No . . . no . . .” He shook his head rapidly and looked almost ready to swoon.
“She was fully clothed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Her dress was not torn or mussed about in any way?”
“No, sir. There was nothing of the kind like that. Nothing at all.”
“Thank you. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, but I trust you understand the need for such questions.”
Victor Heffernan nodded but did not reply. It made me wonder if he thought he'd said too much, too little, or simply feared that he sounded guilty in spite of himself.
CHAPTER 4
“T
here's definitely a familial resemblance,” Colin said as he gazed down at Elsbeth. “I'd say the Langhems have the dominant gene pool.”
“I don't know how you can see any such thing with all the damage that's been done to her,” I answered. Her face was a rainbow of mottled blues, yellows, greens, and purples, and it was obvious that she had suffered multiple fractures to her nose and cheeks given the distortion of the bones beneath. However she had once looked, she would never be the same again, assuming she survived at all.
“Well . . . ,” he allowed. “Try using a bit of imagination.”
“Imagination, is it?” I said, glad we were alone with her.
“I'd say she was attractiveâbefore the attack.”
“Does that matter?”
His gaze shot over to me. “Everything matters. And that includes both the way a person looks and how they are perceived. Physical beauty can be a motivator, a crutch, a distraction, or a curse. And the lack of it every bit the same.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“Other than her injuries,” he pressed, “what are the first things you notice about her?”
I looked down at her battered face and knew that these were indeed the only things I had made note of thus far. “Well . . .” I cleared my throat as I studied her and tried to decipher what he meant for me to see. “I'd say she's about twenty and has long brown hair. She's very slight, really just a slip of a thing, and she's breathing so shallowly that I can hardly see her moving at all.”
“There . . . ,” he said with finality. “All things physical.”
“Well, I can't very well say she's a compelling conversationalist.”
“No, but you could have pointed out the meticulousness of her room, or the color of her bedding, or even the high-necked and positively unremarkable dressing gown she's wearing, all of which speak volumes about who she is.”
“I don't think I like this game.”
“Just keeping you honest.”
“What have you learned so far?”
“Several things. I know that the Earl was knocked to the ground by a blow that most certainly came from someone atop a horse. I know that he was running when he was struck down, and that he persisted in pulling himself along the ground by his elbows for another fifteen feet before the killer finally dismounted and came right up beside him, and then beat him with the absolute intent to kill.
“As for this poor girl . . . ,” he turned his gaze back to Elsbeth, “. . . she was running for the woods when she was struck, the assailant having once again mounted his horse. She collapsed on the spot and was left in the condition we find her now, though I would presume her attacker thought her to be dead.”
“You figured all that out by pawing at the ground around that barn?!”
“It was very telling, especially since much of the grass had been burned away. If we'd been able to get a look at it before the whole of Inspector Varcoe's buffoons descended upon it, I'm sure I'd be a damn sight closer to telling just who did this.” He shook his head and let out a sigh. “But the one thing I can't profess to have the slightest notion about yet is
why
.”
“Well, we know it wasn't robbery.”
“That's true. Yet even so, can we be sure there wasn't something in that barn worth stealing? That perhaps all of this is about covering the theft of something from there?”
“I hadn't thought of that.”
“Doubtful, though.” He shrugged.
“Come now, we are only collecting information,” I teased.
“Always a quick learner.”
“I'd hardly call twelve years quick.”
“Well, you're doing better than the inspector and he's been at it the whole of our lifetimes and then some. Did you recognize the man he has posted outside the door?”
“Yes, I remember him from the Rathburn case. Seems agreeable enough.”
“Perhaps, but he
is
a Yarder.”
“You can't blame them all for the inspector's ineptitude.”
“They've accomplished nothing in a fortnight,” his eyes were alight with fire, “and I'm already certain that Victor Heffernan is innocent.”