Archie stared at him. “She did! She actually asked me. And she did it so adroitly it didn’t even occur to me to wonder at it.”
He thrust up from his saggy armchair and went to throw another log on the fire. Then he stood with a palm braced against the aged chimneypiece as he stared down at the flames. “This changes everything, doesn’t it?” he said after a moment. “How horrifying to think she could have tracked down her father only to have him kill her for it.”
“If he did, it narrows our list of suspects considerably.”
Archie looked over at him questioningly.
Sebastian said, “Like your father, Samuel Atwater is fair; Leopold Seaton and Jamie Knox are dead; and we both know Reuben Dickie is incapable of concocting such an elaborate ruse.”
“Which leaves Underwood and Weston. Have you spoken with them?”
“Not Underwood. But Weston denies even remembering Lady Emily.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he?”
Sebastian swirled the golden brown liquid in his glass and said nothing. He had decided not to tell Archie about his discovery that afternoon at Maplethorpe Hall, or of his subsequent conversation with Lucien Bonaparte. Partially it was because he had given Weston his word as a gentleman that he wouldn’t report his activities to the customs officials, and he suspected that wouldn’t sit well with the earnest young justice of the peace. But it was also because he was beginning to realize that Archie had a tendency to go off half-cocked after each bit of new information, and Sebastian wasn’t yet convinced that what he’d learned had anything to do with Emma Chandler’s murder.
“I’ll admit I’ve never liked the man,” Archie was saying. “And my father abominated him. But . . . do you actually think Weston is capable of murdering a young woman he thought was his own daughter?”
“We know he once seduced an innocent young girl simply to get his hands on her wealth. So I’d say, yes, someone that selfish could conceivably kill if he felt his interests or security were threatened. He’d simply convince himself the murder was the victim’s own fault for asking questions about something that happened twenty-two years ago.” Sebastian paused. “Or for being so thoughtless as to fall pregnant.”
Archie’s features had taken on a pinched, troubled look. “In other words, Sybil Moss and Hannah Grant?”
Sebastian nodded. “I can’t get past the idea that their deaths are linked to what’s happening today. In my experience, once a man kills, it becomes much easier for him to kill again.”
“Because he thinks that if he got away with it once, he can get away with it again?”
“That’s part of it. But there’s also a certain kind of man who discovers he enjoys killing. He likes the feeling of power it gives him.”
“I must say, that does rather sound like Weston.”
“It does, yes.” Sebastian drained his brandy. “Tell me about the Ludlow solicitors.”
It had taken Archie most of the day to track down the right solicitors, an old firm called Bieber and Smythe with offices on a narrow, winding street near the castle. Then the principal partner, Daniel Bieber, had insisted on accompanying him back to Ayleswick to view Emma Chandler’s body and personally verify that she was, indeed, dead.
“Was he satisfied it’s her?” asked Sebastian.
“Said he was—after he finished casting up his accounts behind one of the tombs in the churchyard. Thank God the Reverend will be able to bury her in the morning. I don’t think anyone will be able to recognize her soon.”
“Did Bieber tell you who she named in her will?” asked Sebastian.
“He balked at it, initially. But he finally had to agree it might be important. Seems she left everything to that former teacher of hers up in Little Stretton.”
“Jane Owens?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian watched the flames lick up around the new log on the hearth, his thoughts drifting to the sad-eyed woman in the simple thatched cottage beside the River Ashes Hollow. He knew even without being told how Jane Owens would use Emma’s money: to open the school for chance children that had been the young woman’s dream.
“There’s something else,” said Sebastian as Archie moved to refresh their drinks. “Something Lady Devlin discovered.”
“Oh?”
While Archie poured another hearty measure of brandy in each glass, Sebastian told the young Squire about the Reverend’s edition of Hamlet.
“You’re saying the killer stole Underwood’s copy of the play?” Archie set aside the decanter. “But why would he do that?”
Sebastian took the glass he held out. “Because he’s too clever by half. He tucked the line from Hamlet into Emma’s hand to reinforce the impression that she’d killed herself. But at the same time, the book could also be used to throw suspicion on the vicar if we ever realized her death was actually murder.”
Archie came to sprawl in his chair again. “But unless the killer knew why Emma was here, what possible motive could he imagine the vicar might have?”
“None that I can see. Which brings us to the second possibility.”