Sophia offered Constable Marley a lackluster smile. “We can hardly walk down the street together, chitchatting as if we had been introduced when, in fact, we haven’t.” She waved her hand in a circle between Daphne, Jeremy, and herself. “Might you do the honors, Constable?”
After chuntering for several moments, the constable did just that. Both parties bowed or curtsied. And then, without so much as a “Have a nice day,” they were escorted out of the store.
Out on the street, Sophia looked at Mr. Fraser with curiosity, ignoring the other pedestrians jostling past. There was nothing about him that declared his association with the famed police force of Bow Street. He wore no uniform, but rather the usual gray jacket and waistcoat of a gentleman; a watch fob hung from his pocket. His expression was kindly, his eyes intelligent, and he projected an air of strength. It was all very reassuring … until he spoke.
“That didn’t go as planned.” Mr. Fraser chewed at the corner of his mouth. “I am as uninformed now as I was when I arrived.” He glanced at the girls, focusing on Daphne. “I don’t wish to be indelicate, Miss Waverley, but would you be willing to discuss the death of your brother? Constable Marley told me Andrew was the victim, but little else.”
Daphne tipped her head and nodded. “I find the whole thing distressing, Mr. Fraser; discussing it will not change that. However, if you are going to walk up to Allenton Park with us, could we discuss the murder in the privacy of the upper road?”
“Absolutely.” Mr. Fraser gestured forward and they stepped into the crowds, strolling at a comfortable pace past the busy shops. As promised, they stayed away from the topic of murder for the time being. Their discussion comprised, instead, observations about the weather. It was not particularly scintillating conversation, and the topic was happily dropped upon venturing past the last house of West Ravenwood.
The road was dappled with sunshine as they walked along under the tall elms. Bees chased the wind and birds filled the air with melodies. Daphne was quiet for some minutes before Sophia realized that her cousin was deep in thought about Andrew.
“There was no hint,” she said eventually. “His death changed our lives forever, and yet we had no warning. The sun came up at the expected time. Cook burned the toast, Father hid behind his newspaper at breakfast, William had gone for a ride, and Mother was still abed. All very normal.” She kicked a rock further up the road. “Nothing prepared us for the horror.”
Sophia blanched and stepped closer to Daphne. She wanted to offer some words of comfort, but everything had already been said, many times over.
“We were told that his suffering would not have been long due to the depth of the wound. I suppose that was some comfort. The underbrush was well and truly trampled. Constable Marley decided that it meant Andrew had been waiting for someone, likely pacing.”
Mr. Fraser tsked appropriately and made sympathetic noises. He hesitated for a moment and then squared his shoulders. “Do we know who that someone was? Whom he was waiting for? Actually, let’s go back. I have none of the details.
“When was your brother murdered, Miss Waverley? Is there an estimated time? Who found his…” He hesitated once more. “… his body?” He cleared his throat and continued. “Where was he found? Who examined the body? Were there signs of a struggle such as premorbid wounds or bruising? Was the time of death determined? How would someone with murderous intentions know where to find Andrew—alone and vulnerable?”
“Stop, Mr. Fraser, please! Give me time to answer.” Daphne took a deep, ragged breath. “Andrew was found by one of the groundsmen, sent for that purpose, and he was killed in July of last year. Mr. Reyer, the village surgeon, examined Andrew’s body. He had been stabbed. Bruising was not mentioned within my hearing, and as to the killer finding him—” Daphne laughed; it was an abrasive sound, not at all jubilant. “Andrew was a ladies’ man, and a man of habit. It was likely a common meeting place for a romantic rendezvous.”
She swallowed convulsively and Sophia knew her cousin to be struggling with her emotions.
“You keep saying ‘man,’ Daphne,” Sophia chimed in. She wanted to give her cousin a breather, a break from the horrendous memories. “Mr. Fraser might get the wrong impression.” She turned to the Runner with a troubled expression. “Andrew was but three and twenty. Still quite young.”
“Indeed. Twenty-three is young; though three years older than I am at present, Miss Thompson.” Thoughts of a puzzling nature flit across his face until he returned his gaze to Daphne. “Please, continue.”
“There is not much more to tell. The knife was not found. Animal traps and snares were discovered in the vicinity, lending to the theory that Andrew happened upon a poacher and was killed by him for fear of being revealed. That was the motive Constable Marley suggested. But the case has gone nowhere.” Daphne blinked rapidly, and then continued quickly to hide her discomfort. “Most people think it was an accident. But how can someone be stabbed by accident? It was a deep wound; it would have required a strong thrust. And then, Constable Marley insinuated that Father had something to do with it. That made no sense at all.”
Lost in thought, the three continued to walk down the road in silence. The whinny of a horse in a nearby field brought them back to the here and now.
“But that can’t be all, Miss Waverley?”
“How do you mean?”
“Something has happened. There’s been some change—Mr. Waverley referred to it and Constable Marley implied it. I would not have been called in otherwise.”
“Unless Uncle Edward was getting frustrated and wanted fresh eyes,” Sophia said.
“Yes, true enough. And yet, I’m convinced that there was a new incident. What could that be?” Mr. Fraser shook his head, a thoughtful expression etched into his handsome features.
“New?” Sophia turned to stare at Daphne as she came to an abrupt halt. “Do you know?”
“There was something,” Daphne said, swallowing convulsively. “Something awful. I could hardly believe that Father carried it into the house, let alone crowed with pleasure at his find.”
Sophia touched her cousin’s arm. “What do you mean? What did he find?”
“The knife. He found the knife that killed Andrew in Glendor Wood.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Listening at the Door
The silence between them was deafening, and the day suddenly darkened as the sun slipped behind a cloud. The half light augmented the strained atmosphere, and the steep climb to the manor became a challenge.
“Where did he find it? And why does your father believe it is the knife that was used to kill your brother?” Mr. Fraser asked with careful diction, as if he were weighing the value of each word.
“Yes, evidence,” Sophia said, pleased to recognize the tactics that were being adopted by the Runner. “What evidence was associated with the knife to make Uncle Edward believe it to be the … one that—?”
Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, Sophia broke off. She was being too blunt, too cavalier about Andrew’s death. Andrew had been a bully, and quick tempered, but his sister had loved him.