Page 8 of In the Midnight Hour

“In truth, I’ve taken on many of Usher’s duties,” Maberly explained. “I suppose we all have. We look out for one another, and Sir Radnor didn’t want to part with Usher, who’s been with him for nigh on fifty years.”

“Do you require anything further of me?” Dr. Ellingham asked.

“Perhaps you should return to examine Mr. Usher,” North said, thinking the poor man could use some medicinal assistance.

“He needs rest and retirement,” the physician said. “I’ve suggested that to Sir Radnor before, but he always insisted Usher was fine.” He shrugged. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ellingham.” Drummond inclined his head. “You’ll be informed if there’s to be an inquest, but I doubt it will be necessary.”

“Glad to provide testimony if you need it.” Dr. Ellingham picked up his instrument case and departed.

Drummond addressed Maberly once more. “Tell me every detail of what happened with Sir Radnor, beginning with last night. Do not leave anything out.”

“Lady Cartwright arrived for dinner at eight. She comes for dinner on most Fridays, as of late. They share a passion for books.”

Drummond wrote in his book and glanced at the butler. “And what time did Lady Cartwright leave?”

“I don’t know,” Maberly replied. “She was here past half after eleven, when I turned over the door to Amos—he’s one of the footmen. You’d have to ask him.”

“I shall.” Drummond flipped a page in his notebook, then asked the butler to describe what had happened that morning. When Maberly had finished, Drummond closed his notebook. “I’d like to speak with other members of the household now, beginning with Amos and the housekeeper.”

“I’ll summon them to the library downstairs, unless you prefer to see them here?” Maberly asked.

“The library is fine. No need to subject everyone to their dead employer’s body.” Drummond spoke frankly and didn’t seem to catch the slight twitch of Maberly’s shoulders.

Maberly inclined his head then hastened from the room.

Drummond fixed his gaze on North. “You’re still here.”

“I feel as though something isn’t right,” North said.

The Scotsman pressed his lips together in a slightly impatient manner. “And you’ve arrived at that feeling through your many years of investigative experience? Forgive me, I forgot you aren’t your brother,” he added sardonically.

North exhaled with frustration—and a flash of unease. He wasn’t Harry, and he didn’t need reminding of that fact. “It just seems there ought to be more blood on the bed. Mrs. Babcock hadn’t yet cleaned that, and I stopped her from doing so. You’re welcome.”

“Did you preserve any other evidence?” Drummond asked stoically.

“I also prevented removal of the empty decanter on the bedside table.” North pointed toward it. “Mrs. Babcock said she filled it yesterday afternoon and that Sir Radnor drank it in addition to what he had at dinner and in the library with Lady Cartwright.”

Drummond blew out a whistle as he walked to the table. “He had to have been utterly foxed.” He picked up the book and opened it, his eyes moving across the inscription. “Seems as though he and Lady Cartwright were very close. Perhaps she did come upstairs. I’ll speak to her after I finish interviewing everyone here.”

For some reason, North didn’t want Drummond speaking to Lady Cartwright—not until he’d had a chance to do so. “I thought you were already certain this was an accident.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be thorough since he was a baronet.” Drummond set the book down. “If Lady Cartwright was here in his bedchamber, she may have insight into what happened.”

North had a difficult time imagining the beautiful young widow with Sir Radnor, but what did he know? They were clearly very friendly.

“I’m going downstairs,” Drummond announced. “You should leave.”

As much as North wanted to hear what Amos had to say about Lady Cartwright’s departure, he had no reason to stay—and Drummond had made it clear his presence was unwanted. North was also tired. More than that, however, he wanted to speak with Lady Cartwright before Drummond did.

“I think I will,” North said. “You don’t need my help.”

“I do not.” Drummond gestured for North to precede him from the bedchamber.

North made his way downstairs to the entrance hall. He saw that Mrs. Babcock was already in the library, along with Amos. The poor footman didn’t look any less panicked than he had when North had encountered him outside the house earlier.

Setting aside his disappointment, North left, closing the door firmly behind him. The sun was fully risen now, and a warm autumn glow filled the square. It was peaceful and beautiful, not at all a day one wanted to encounter or even contemplate death.