The Archer's Paradox (The Heart of a Hero Book 8) Page 3

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, especially since it seems to be raining. Miss Pottinger, I wish to introduce you to Mrs. Turner.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Turner.”

  “Please use my given name, Jane. I can already tell we are going to be great friends,” she said, then climbed into the carriage on her own.

  Mr. Hoskins handed her into the carriage and Beatrice took the seat next to Jane, not because she was afraid to sit with Mr. Hoskins, but because she knew from experience that she would become quite ill if she faced backwards in the carriage. Jane wore a lively green velvet gown, while Beatrice had donned a serviceable gown of brown velvet that promised to keep her warm, but paled in comparison. Having come into her majority at school, she’d never worried about how she looked, but now she wished she had paid more attention to her wardrobe. She suspected that she would be required to go out in society more than ever before while they searched for Madame Delacroix’s killer.

  “Beatrice, may I call you Beatrice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Beatrice, how did you come to be a teacher?”

  “My father worked as a tutor for the wealthy. Madame Delacroix has” —she gulped— “had two sons that Papa tutored for her in exchange for my tuition to attend her school.” Her heart lurched. She still didn’t quite believe that Madame was gone. “When I finished my schooling, Madame offered to allow me to stay on as the French teacher. Now I shall have to decide whether to try to keep the school open.” Despite the cold, damp weather, sweat beaded on her forehead. She never imagined having to make such decisions. She didn’t even know who the school belonged to now. Madame owned the house, but Beatrice didn’t know who would inherit her possessions or if she had a will. For all Beatrice knew, Madame’s brother might now own everything that had belonged to her. What if he wanted the property for himself, or worse yet, decided to sell it?

  Jane squeezed her hand. “You poor dear. Thank goodness you met Colin so you don’t have to deal with all of this on your own. You couldn’t find a better…”

  Mr. Hoskins scowled at Jane and her voice trailed off. “Miss Pottinger, do you have any idea who might have done this? Perhaps someone who disliked Madame Delacroix, or had a grudge against her?”

  She shook her head. “All of the students and their parents loved her. She did have a contentious relationship with the butcher, but I don’t think he would have sneaked into the house and strangled her over a discounted cut of beef.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat and blinked to prevent her tears from falling.

  Jane hugged her. “Of course not, dear. Are there any other employees at the school?”

  She nodded. “Yes, there are two maids, a cook, and Madame’s brother, who teaches upper level math but does not live at the school.”

  Colin leaned closer. “Did she get along well with her brother?”

  “Yes, for the most part. They had the usual sibling disagreements, but nothing that could convince me he would kill his own sister.”

  “Any disputes with the neighbors? Disgruntled parents? There has to be something.”

  Beatrice did have some idea what might have happened, but she wasn’t at liberty to discuss the situation with Mr. Hoskins. Once they reached London, she could speak with her contacts and determine how to proceed. Until then, his questions weren’t helping to accomplish anything, except perhaps to irritate her.

  “Were there any students who acted out against her?”

  “Some of the students had to be disciplined periodically, but again, there was nothing out of the ordinary for a school.” She sighed. “I will continue to think about who might have done this and why, but for now, I have no answers.”

  Beatrice leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, considering the many questions Mr. Hoskins had asked. “Madame Delacroix and her brother were both born in France, but they arrived in England with their parents several years ago. Their family was loyal to the monarchy and refused to acknowledge Bonaparte as emperor.”

  “Are their parents still alive?”

  “I’m not certain, but Monsieur Delacroix would know. He has taken rooms near the school, and I’m sure he will be even more determined than we are to discover the identity of his sister’s murderer.”

  “Did the girls give any indication of the murder weapon?”

  “I’m afraid not. It might’ve been a rope, even her own scarf.” Beatrice bit back a sob. She wasn’t up to the task of imagining the mechanics of her mentor and dear friend’s death. Jane held her close and glared across the narrow space between them and Colin.

  “Please do cease your interrogations,” Jane said. “It’s all speculation until we arrive in London and can investigate for ourselves.”

  Beatrice rested her head on Jane’s shoulder and allowed her eyes to close. She would need all of her strength to handle the grief-stricken girls who awaited her arrival.

  Chapter Four

  London

  March 1812

  Beatrice paused before the front door to Madame Delacroix’s School for Girls. The death of Madame had changed everything. Still, standing outside would not help. The girls needed her. She took a deep breath and pulled her key out of her reticule and unlocked the door. Mr. Hoskins stood behind her, patiently waiting for her to enter.

  “Miss Pottinger, we have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.” Morgan, one of the maids, embraced her. “We’ve been at sixes and sevens without you.”

  Before she could pull herself together, the thunder of several girls running down the staircase sounded and she braced herself.

  “Miss Pottinger, thank goodness you are here!”

  Arms wrapped around her from all sides.

  “It was so terrible!”

  “Morgan found Madame. There were rope marks on her neck.”

  “Girls, please. I’m very glad to see all of you, but I need you to go back to your bedchambers. I will come to you as soon as I am able. In the meantime, if any of you think you might have information that could be of use in the investigation, please write it down. We will speak with each of you individually later today.”

  “Yes, Miss Pottinger.”

  She hugged each of the girls in turn and watched them climb the staircase. The weight of Mr. Hoskins’ stare burned made the back of her neck tingle. “Thank you for allowing me to handle the girls.”

  “It was my pleasure. I have very little experience with adolescent girls. However, I do hope you will let me be present when you interview the girls.”

  She didn’t understand why he would he want to be involved at all. For now, it seemed better to keep him close until she had a chance to investigate him further. It was possible he had promised Papa that he would protect her. In any case, she was confident that none of the girls had been involved in the murder, so there was no harm in letting him listen in on her interviews.

  “I suppose you may attend my interviews with the girls, but if it appears that they are intimidated by your presence, I’ll have to ask you to leave. They’re much more likely to speak candidly if they are alone with me.”

  “Perhaps, but the opposite might also be true—that they would rather confess to a stranger than disappoint someone they know and respect.”

  She stiffened. “You think one of the girls might be involved in the murder?”

  He shrugged. “It’s too soon to rule it out.” He turned to Morgan. “Did you summon a constable when the murder was discovered?”

  “Yes, sir. There was no one else here to help. He confirmed that she had been strangled and walked around the house to check for any broken windows or locks, but didn’t find anything.”

  “Thank you, Morgan. The constables are rarely helpful in these cases, but you were right to have him investigate.” She needed to send a missive to her contact in London immediately. With each passing moment it became less likely that they would be able to find the murderer.

  A knock sounded at the front of the house and th
e maid opened the door.

  “Captain Alexander,” she and Mr. Hoskins said simultaneously. She whipped her head around to face him. “You know the captain?”

  “Ah, I see you two haven’t warmed to each other yet. Otherwise you would’ve figured it out by now.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “What’s going on, Grant?” Mr. Hoskins asked.

  “Colin Hoskins, meet Beatrice Pottinger, a member of the Legion. Beatrice, meet Colin, who works with the Home Office, among other things.”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re with the Home Office?”

  “For the same reason you didn’t tell me you’re with the Legion. I had no reason to trust you, just as you had no reason to trust me. At least now we can work together.”

  She had joined the Legion at the urging of Madame two years ago. It was a secret organization created to combat anyone or anything that threatened the security of Great Britain. The missions of the Legion and those who worked for the Home Office sometimes overlapped.

  Grant bit back a smile. “I don’t mean to make light of the situation, Beatrice. I know you were close to Madame Delacroix and we are all mourning her loss. Shall we go see her now?”

  Beatrice bit her lip. Though she would vastly prefer not to have to see Madame in her current state, it was her duty to help catch the murderer. “Yes.”

  She walked behind Morgan up the staircase toward Madame’s bedchamber and the men followed behind them. The smell of decay was overpowering. The door was open and she closed her eyes for a second, then straightened her shoulders and strode toward the bed. Madame looked much like her mother had when she died. Her skin was pale, nearly grey, and there was bruising around her neck. A rope sat coiled on the table beside the bed. It had to have been used to kill her because they didn’t keep rope in the house. Beatrice swallowed a sob at the callousness of the murderer and the constable for leaving it lying about. Mr. Hoskins moved toward her and squeezed her hand. The warmth of his hand and his steady presence calmed her.

  “Almost anyone could have strangled her with that rope, especially if she had been asleep prior to the attack,” Mr. Hoskins said to Grant

  “I didn’t find her until morning,” Morgan said, “so I don’t know when she died.”

  “I agree that we can’t rule out anyone out,” Grant said. “This doesn’t narrow down our suspects. Have you questioned the students?”

  Beatrice cleared her throat. “Not yet. Morgan, is Monsieur Delacroix here?” It was odd that he hadn’t come to greet her since she had sent a messenger to inform them of her arrival. Not to mention, he ought to have been here to reassure the girls and continue their schooling until they were able to sort everything out.

  “No, ma’am. Haven’t seen him since the day of the murder.”

  “Is that unusual?” Mr. Hoskins asked.

  “Given the circumstances, yes. But he did not live here.” She turned to Morgan. “Do you have the address of Monsieur’s lodgings?”

  “I will search Madame’s desk.”

  “If I may, I’d like to volunteer to locate Monsieur Delacroix so you two can interview the students. The Legion will not stop investigating until we find her killer.”

  “Thank you, Grant.”

  He walked over and pulled Beatrice into a hug.

  “Please send my regards to Elizabeth,” she asked.

  Once he left the room, she turned to Mr. Hoskins. “I think I owe you an apology. Or perhaps you owe me an apology. Either way, since we know now we’re both on the same side, can we agree to work together?”

  He smiled, his blue eyes vivid in the dim light. “Of course. I’d prefer that you use my given name, and I hope you’ll allow me to use yours.”

  She nodded. Now that she knew they were colleagues, it was a relief to have someone helping her. She was determined to find the person who murdered her mentor. They went back downstairs to prepare to interview the girls.

  She turned to Colin. “Do you have any suggestions for how to do this?”

  “Though it will take longer, I think it’s best to question them one at a time. It’s been my experience that people are more likely to share information when they feel alone and vulnerable.”

  “I understand. However, I would prefer not to distress the girls more than is necessary. Six of them have already been removed by their parents. If we scare them all away, we’ll have no choice but to close the school.”

  “Of course. I will be on my best behavior.”

  That might not help, but she appreciated his efforts. His height and strong build, coupled with natural confidence and the way he carried himself signaled that he was not someone to be trifled with. The girls would likely be afraid of him, but she would be there to mitigate his presence. Having a sympathetic person in the room with a more aggressive investigator was a legitimate technique to gain information.

  Morgan returned. “Miss Pottinger, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t able to find a will among Madame’s papers.”

  “Thank you, Morgan. I will look myself when we finish with the girls, just to be sure. In the meantime, can you help us by bringing the girls down one by one?”

  “Of course, ma’am. Does it matter who I bring first?”

  “Not really, since we intend to interview all of them. Perhaps you should go in order of their rooms so we don’t miss anyone.”

  She nodded and headed upstairs. Moments later, she returned with Margaret, who glanced about the room with wide eyes.

  Beatrice walked over and folded her into a hug. “You needn’t be afraid. We’re just trying to find out what happened to Madame.” She pulled back and glanced at Colin, hoping he would realize she wanted him to ask the questions.

  “When did you last see Madame Delacroix?”

  “At dinner the night she was killed.”

  “Was there anything unusual about dinner, or the rest of the evening?”

  She shook her head. “No. We ate baked chicken and potatoes, then Madame read a chapter of The Mysteries of Udolpho.”

  “That would certainly set the stage for murder,” Colin whispered to Beatrice. “How did you convince Madame to read that book to you?”

  Margaret wiped away a singled tear. “She let us vote.”

  Madame had always been very democratic in her thinking. “What time did you retire to your bedchamber that night?”

  “Around ten o’clock.”

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that night? Hear any strange sounds? Was anyone absent from the room when you were reading the book?” Colin asked.

  Margaret pursed her lips. “Harriet retired to her bedchamber after dinner, claiming a headache.”

  Beatrice and Colin exchanged looks. “Did you hear any noise from upstairs during that time?”

  Margaret shook her head. “No, but we were all engrossed in the story. Madame had a way of reading that made the story come to life. You could picture everything that happened in your mind.” She started to cry, and Beatrice embraced her.

  “We all miss her. You can go back to your bedchamber now, but if you think of anything else that’s out of the ordinary, please tell me.”

  Margaret pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I will.” Just before she opened the door, she turned back to them. “Harriet has a beau. I don’t know who he is or what he looks like, but she talks about him all the time.”

  Beatrice frowned. “How long has this been going on?”

  Margaret thought for a moment. “The first time I remember her talking about him was in mid-January. Please don’t tell her I’m the one who told you.”

  “Of course we won’t. I appreciate you having the courage to tell me.”

  This time she left, and as soon as the door closed, Colin spoke. “Is it normal for the girls to have beaus?”

  “Certainly not. Madame forbade it. The only men they were exposed to other than family members were the dance instructor and Monsieur Delacroix.”

&n
bsp; “Please don’t ask the other girls any direct questions about this. If they know about it, they’ll most likely tell us.”

  “I will follow your lead.”

  “Thank you.” Now that they were on easier terms with one another, she found it rather pleasant to work with him.

  The next girl they interviewed was Sarah. She was the youngest of the girls at thirteen and wasn’t able to give them any new information. It was the same with the five girls after her. None of them had seen Monsieur since the night of the murder, and no one else seemed to know of Harriet’s beau. Finally, Morgan brought Harriet to them.

  Harriet had always been a challenge to both her and Madame. She was very smart and had no trouble completing the school work, but she had a tendency to stretch the rules when it suited her wishes. Her family was wealthy, and she’d been known to pay the other girls to do her chores.

  Beatrice glanced at Colin, then began her questions. “What did you have for dinner the night Madame was murdered?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think we had chicken. Can we make this quick? I’m almost to the end of The Mysteries of Udolpho and I’d like to finish tonight.”

  “Did you take Madame’s copy?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not like she’s going to read it.”

  Beatrice recoiled. How could the girl be so unfeeling? “Harriet!” she admonished. “If nothing else, you owe Madame respect.” She met Colin’s eyes and he gave a slight nod.

  “Yes, Miss Pottinger. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

  Colin took a step toward them. “I’d like to ask a few questions.”

  The girl looked him up and down. “Who are you?”

  Beatrice answered first. “Mr. Hoskins is a friend of my family, and has some expertise with investigations. Please answer his questions, and remember your manners.”

  “When did you last see Madame Delacroix?” he asked.

  She crossed her arms. “During dinner the night she died.”

  “So you didn’t join everyone else in the parlor to read?”

  “No, my head hurt so I went to bed early.”