“I will do no such thing,” Papa said, smiling to nullify the harshness of his words. “I have instructed Mr. Bradley to be prepared by Thursday.”
Mama opened her mouth, but Henry spoke first. “I would prefer to stay in Welford Mills, Papa. Walter will be heading back to school soon.”
Papa chuckled. “Mischief and frivolity still to be had?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“There. We cannot quit Welford, Mr. Thompson.” Mama looked relieved and sat back in her chair. “It would not suit Henry.”
“But, Mama, it suits me,” Sophia protested. “… and Daphne.”
“That is of no never mind, Sophia.” Her mother lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Your brother is happy to stay. Besides, the Waverleys are still not over Andrew’s death yet. It would be a dreary visit indeed.”
“One doesn’t get over a murder, Mama,” Sophia said, trying to control her tone of voice, though a smidgeon of anger snuck through. “And entertainment would not be the purpose of the visit but rather to lift their spirits.”
And solve the crime. But Sophia was hardly going to advertise her true intent to her mother.
Andrew’s death had been horrific, and to dismiss it so casually was cold and cruel. Sophia had not been at Allenton at the time, but Daphne had described the scene, including some of the more unpleasant details. Andrew was found in a puddle of blood in Glendor Wood just west of the Allenton manor. He had been stabbed in the gut—up under his rib.
“So, the question is settled.” Papa nodded sharply, glancing at his wife. “You, my dear, will remain in Welford Mills with Henry while Sophia and I visit my sister and her family to distract them from their melancholy … if possible.” He turned toward Sophia as Mama spluttered in protest at the far side of the table. “We will leave at ten sharp, Sophia, Thursday morning. Bring Betty as your lady’s maid. Your mother will require the services of Laura.”
Sophia gulped in relief. “Of course, Papa.”
Thank the heavens. It truly did sound as if nothing worthwhile had been done to find Andrew’s killer, and if the murderer was not found soon, all evidence and memories of that day would be lost. The tragedy of Andrew’s death would be compounded without any answers.
Daphne would be vastly relieved with their arrival at Allenton … as would Sophia. Actually, the thought should have made her feel much better. However, as Sophia listened half-heartedly to her mother’s complaints about being left all alone—with her son and eight servants—she realized that getting permission to visit Allenton Park had been relatively easy compared to everything else she would have to do once she arrived.
She had to clear her uncle’s name, soothe Daphne’s fears, and—most importantly—discover who had killed Andrew a year ago. It was an impressive list and a great deal to accomplish … especially with her lack of experience.
Sophia squared her shoulders. This was the new way of things—Sophia’s new life. Marriage was no longer on the horizon; she had to make the future her own, untraditional and yet fulfilling.
What else does one do when all plans go awry?
Sophia had been greatly disappointed by the cancellation of her Season, though not for the usual reasons. Not a romantic sort, Sophia had seen the traditional process of husband hunting as a step toward independence. Uncle Gilbert’s incarceration had put an end to her aspirations of finding a suitable husband. The Thompsons could not show their faces in London, let alone throw balls and invite eligible bachelors to dine. The Thompsons were no longer socially acceptable—they were related to a felon.
Sophia would be Miss Thompson forever, at the beck and call of her mother, unless she found some other means of establishing her own household. She had thought on the problem for months until she decided that she needed a career. Ever curious and a great reader, Sophia had come across a book in the library. No, it wasn’t merely a book: It was a beacon of inspiration.
Sophia nodded to herself; Investigating Murder and Mayhem: A Runner’s Journey would have to come with her to West Ravenwood. She would reread the list of devious behaviors; that should help pinpoint the appearance of a cold-blooded murderer and how such a person acted. She would discover the name of the villain and see him brought to justice.
Not only would her investigation help her cousin’s family regain their peace of mind, but it would also go a long way toward establishing Sophia’s credentials in the art of detecting—something that would be required, if she was to convince anyone of her skill.
Sophia would be the very first female investigating officer for the London Bow Street Runners. All she had to do was catch a killer.
CHAPTER TWO
Defective Detective
Mr. Jeremy Fraser, newly appointed trainee of the Bow Street police force in London and—some would say more importantly—fourth son of a minor baron, leaned closer to the coach window to stare at the scenery flashing past. They were coming into West Ravenwood.
Reaching across the opposite seat, Jeremy slid the driver’s speaking window open, and he shouted over the sound of the pounding horse hooves and their jangling equipage. “I’m told Allenton Park is on the far side of town, Stacks—beyond the bridge. But best to ask.”
Hal Stacks acknowledged Jeremy’s statement with a nod and an unintelligible comment.
Jeremy sat back, trying to collect his thoughts and ease his nerves. He had been told the situation at Allenton Park was urgent—involving a murder. He had then been rushed out of the Bow Street office and into a carriage before he could ask any questions. Why the great hurry was necessary he could only guess, but Jeremy was fully aware that this was a test. He was on his own to sink or swim. This, his third case, could bring him either accolades … or his termination papers.
There had been a murder in West Ravenwood, and he had been sent to find and capture the culprit. And yet … he was certain there was a twist to this story. Sir Elderberry had smiled slyly when he had given Jeremy the address and sent him on his way.
Shaking his head, Jeremy wondered if he was riding pell-mell into a prank. Would he get to West Ravenwood and find that the deceased was a cat, or that there was no place called Allenton Park after all? The more seasoned officers loved to “initiate” new recruits with such schemes.
Still, he had no choice; he had to treat this so-called “murder” as a valid case until he learned otherwise. If it was to be a sink-or-swim situation, then Jeremy had every intention of swimming … metaphorically speaking, of course.
As the carriage slowed to allow for other traffic, Jeremy noted that West Ravenwood was fairly sizable—definitely more of a town than a village. The steeples of at least four churches were visible towering above the chimney pots of the cottages, and the high street was lined with shops offering fine cheeses, lace, and millinery.
A quick conversation with a man on the side of the road established the location of Allenton Park. Stacks guided the horses up over the short bridge that spanned the narrow River Coope and then turned uphill.
The approach to Allenton Park began with an impressive carved gate depicting rearing unicorns and snarling dragons, followed by a steep drive lined with majestic oak trees. The sizable manor that crowned the hill was of the style built a century earlier, with various juts and add-ons to accommodate the changing needs of the family. The cut masonry of the facade showed varying shades of gray with touches of ochre. Chimney pots abounded, as did oriel windows. Substantial and imposing, Allenton Park offered an air of elegance and authority; formal flower beds accented the flagstone path leading to the main entrance.