In the next moment she decided she was being uncharitable and unnecessarily suspicious. “Well, thank you, Lady Marion. I will pass your comments on to P.C. Northcott in the hopes that it might help in his investigation.”
Lady Marion rose, steadying herself with one hand on the arm of the davenport. “You will let me know if this beast is caught? I shall not have a moment’s peace until I know he is safely behind bars.”
“Of course. I shall make sure you are notified.” Cecily sent a last glance at the curio. “I’ve been admiring your figurines. They are quite beautiful.”
The other woman managed a wan smile. “Thank you. They are from Royal Doulton, in Staffordshire. I started to collect them while on holiday there.”
Cecily was about to turn away when her glance fell on a photograph of Lady Marion and her husband dressed in evening clothes. “What a lovely gown! I saw one just like it at my dressmaker’s house the other day.”
“That was most likely my gown.” Lady Marion picked up the silver frame. “Was it in shades of maroon and black?”
“Yes, it was.” Cecily took another look at the photograph. “Of course, I should have known. Caroline said it was a Paris original.”
“It’s my favorite gown.” Lady Marion put down the frame and walked to the door, prompting Cecily to follow her. “Caroline is a very good seamstress. She’s a nervous little thing but has an excellent command of her talent. Most accommodating, as well. She delivered the gown herself. I must admit, when Pauline told me she would be spending the month in London I was quite dismayed, since I had torn the hem and it needed expert attention. Caroline, however, came to my rescue.” She paused at the door, one hand on the bell rope. “I shan’t be wearing it this evening, after all. I have canceled the dinner party. I just couldn’t face it with Harry gone.”
She pulled the rope, saying, “Jarvis will see you out. Thank you for your efforts in finding who did this. I hope you are successful in your quest.”
“I hope so, too.”
The door opened to reveal the butler, his face still stark with disapproval.
Cecily turned once more to Lady Marion. “Thank you for your help in this. I just have one more question. Was your husband as fond of Mr. Farnsworth as you were?”
Her question was directed at the other woman, but out of the corner of her eye she watched the butler. She thought she saw a flicker of alarm cross his face, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure.
“Of course he was.” Lady Marion’s voice had sharpened. “As I said, everyone loved Harry. Including my husband.”
Cecily nodded. “Then good day to you. I shall see that you are informed when there is any news.” She followed the butler to the door, and quickly stepped outside.
Samuel was pacing around the carriage when she reached it. Despite his hat and warm scarf, his face was pinched and his shoulders hunched against the wind.
“You would have done better to wait in the warm kitchen,” Cecily said, as she stepped up into the carriage.
“I don’t like being ordered about by a butler,” Samuel said stiffly.
Cecily could understand how he felt. Most people didn’t understand the relationship she had with her stable manager. Especially people like Lord Bellevue’s butler. She felt she owed Samuel some kind of compensation for his discomfort. “I think I’d like to stop by the Fox and Hounds for a drop of sherry.”
Samuel’s eyes lit up. “Now?”
“I don’t see why not.” Cecily glanced up at the darkening sky. “Mr. Baxter won’t be home for a while and we have time before supper. It must be opening time at the public house by now. Besides, I would like a word with Mr. Collins. As a publican, he has more access to gossip than anyone I know. We might be able to pick up a tidbit or two to help us in our investigation. Did you manage to see where Harry Farnsworth died?”
“Yes, m’m. I found the bloke that found Harry dead. I looked all around but couldn’t see nothing but stones and twigs and trodden-down bushes. The constables must have trampled around quite a bit. It was all flattened down around where he was killed.”
Cecily nodded. “I rather thought the constables would have searched the area pretty thoroughly. You never know, though. Sometimes they miss something.” She looked up at the sky. “We had better make haste to the Fox and Hounds if we are to be home before dark.”
Samuel needed no further encouragement. He slammed the door shut and leapt up on his seat before Cecily could draw another breath.
The ride down to the village pub seemed to take forever with the bumping and swaying of the carriage. At times it rocked from side to side, causing Cecily to grasp the door handle to steady herself.
The reason for it was clear as she made ready to step down into the courtyard of the Fox and Hounds. The thaw had begun to set in at last, and as usual for that part of the coast, the westerly winds had brought warm rain to melt the packed snow.
The sheen of water lying on top of ice made walking even more treacherous, and Cecily was glad of Samuel’s hand under her arm as they made their way gingerly to the door of the private bar.
Barry Collins, the publican, greeted them with a cheery bellow. Waving his arm around the empty room, he added, “You’re the first customers I’ve seen in here all day. This weather is killing my business.”
Listening to the clamor of voices above the piano chords next door, Cecily smiled. “It sounds as though you are making up for it in the public bar.”
Collins nodded. “Darts match going on. They’d march through fire to get here for that.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s quiet in here. I was hoping you’d have time to talk.”
Without being asked, Collins reached for a small glass and a bottle of cream sherry. “I thought you might be calling in here. I heard about the Christmas Angel. Nasty goings-on, that. We’re trying to keep it quiet around here. Business is bad enough, what with the weather and all.” He put down the bottle and carried the brimming glass over to her table.
“I don’t blame you.” Cecily accepted the sherry with a smile. “A serial killer is not to be taken lightly. This man is extremely dangerous and unpredictable.”
Collins raised his eyebrows at Samuel, who promptly ordered a mild and bitter. The publican stuck a pint mug under the spout of the beer barrel and pulled the brass-tipped handle. Watching the white foam rise halfway up the glass, he asked, “Do you have any ideas who might be behind all this?”
“Not as yet.” Cecily sipped the sherry, closing her eyes as the dark liquid slid down her throat to warm her stomach. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything that might help?”
“Sorry, Mrs. B. From what I’ve heard, and it isn’t much, there seems no reason for it all.” The publican switched the glass to another barrel and topped it up, allowing some of the foam to pour over the edges of the glass.
Samuel got up to fetch it, nodding his thanks before taking his seat again.
Collins poured a small glass of light ale and brought it over to the table. “All right if I join you?”
“Oh, please do!” Cecily waved a hand at the empty chair.
Sitting down, Collins murmured, “I might as well, seeing as the place is empty.” He glanced at Samuel. “How’s it looking out there?”
“Slushy,” Samuel said, picking up his glass. “The carriage was all over the road.”
“Well, at least it looks like it’s thawing fast.” He looked back at Cecily. “Good job, too, I reckon, seeing as how you have a hotel full of guests for Christmas.”
“Indeed.” Cecily took another sip of the sherry. “I must say I’m most relieved to see the weather warming up. Now, if only I could find the Christmas Angel, my troubles would be over.”
Collins nodded. “Bad business, that’s for sure. I heard that Harry Farnsworth bought it this morning. Nice chap, he was. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do him in.”