Page 3 of In the Midnight Hour

Mrs. Babcock picked up the buckets and moved them outside the chamber.

There was indeed blood on the finial, but not a great deal of it. “This doesn’t look to be enough blood for a head wound.”

“I cleaned up plenty from the carpet,” Mrs. Babcock said, having come back into the bedchamber.

That seemed odd. “I should think there would be more on the bedpost if that’s where Sir Radnor struck his head. For that blow to kill him seems an unlucky twist of fate.”

“The bedclothes were a knotted mess before I tidied them,” Mrs. Babcock explained. “I believe Sir Radnor was tangled up and fell. Knocked his head on the finial on the way down. I have no trouble believing that’s how it happened.” She shrugged.

“You also made up the bed?” North asked.

Mrs. Babcock sniffed with indignance. “I can’t leave things a mess when we’re expecting Dr. Ellingham.”

Her employer had died, and instead of being distraught over his demise, she was worried about cleaning. North found her overall attitude to be curious. And it made him doubt her accident theory.

North turned to the butler. “Do you agree with Mrs. Babcock’s assessment?”

“I suppose it makes sense.” He shook his head and frowned, his brow creasing with distress. “We must hear what Dr. Ellingham thinks.”

The housekeeper moved to the bedside table and picked up the decanter.

Again, North stopped her. “You can’t take things from the bedchamber, nor can you clean anything else.”

She’d already destroyed whatever evidence was on the rug as well as disturbed the state of the bedclothes. Her testimony, should it become necessary, about both would have to be enough.

“I was only trying to tidy before Dr. Ellingham arrives. What else am I to do?” she asked with exasperation. “I take great pride in caring for Sir Radnor’s household.”

“I’m sure you do,” North said in a placating tone. “Can you describe how much blood you cleaned from the carpet?”

“Enough to turn the water brownish-red.” Her answer was wholly unsatisfying.

North remained polite. “And how far did you move Sir Radnor?”

“You can see for yourself. He was on top of the wet area before I moved him.”

The Aubusson carpet was dark, with brown and cobalt as its primary colors. It was difficult to ascertain exactly where it was wet. North bent to touch where she’d been cleaning and made a note in case it dried before someone came to investigate.

“If you’ve nothing else, my lord, I’ve household duties to see to,” the housekeeper said crisply before turning toward the doorway.

“Mrs. Babcock, you don’t seem terribly upset about the death of your employer,” North commented.

She whipped her head around, eyes blazing. “Of course I’m upset,” she said sharply. “Now I need to find a new position, as does everyone else here. Sir Radnor’s death is a calamity. For now, we must carry on.”

That wasn’t the sort of upset North had meant, but he didn’t correct her. “I’m sure you’re all shocked and sad.” He watched for her reaction.

“Yes,” she murmured, casting her gaze toward the body. “It’s quite…sad.” She turned on her heel and departed.

North turned to the butler. “Would you please open the curtains so we may have some daylight in here—such as it is at this hour?”

Maberly hastened to do as North asked whilst North surveyed Sir Radnor’s body. His nightshirt was long but bunched up around his thighs.

It seemed plausible that Sir Radnor had become tangled in the coverings, which had caused him to be unsteady enough to fall and hit his head on the finial before landing on the carpet. The best way to determine the possibility or likelihood would be to try it. Though, North couldn’t do that with where Sir Radnor was, and he wasn’t going to disturb the body. Again.

He could, however, investigate the wound.

Removing his gloves and stashing them in his coat pocket, North crouched down and studied Sir Radnor’s face. His eyes were closed, his thin lips pale, as was his flesh. There was blood on his right cheek—the side of his face that was pressed to the carpet.

Moving to the man’s other side, North turned his head to face him so that the wound would be exposed. He grimaced as he handled the corpse.