The Bet

Vernon looked a little dazed, but then he always did. Myles watched his uncle stare off into space for a moment, as though trying to remember an incident that had happened many years ago rather than just a few hours.

“I was upstairs in my room,” Vernon replied after several moments of thoughtful silence.

“Did anybody else see you?” Barnabas demanded.

Vernon looked at his Barnabas. “No. I didn’t see anybody.”

“No, I didn’t ask if you saw anybody, Vernon. I asked if anybody has seen you this morning. Did you speak to anybody?”

“No,” Vernon replied, this time with more conviction. “I was in my room alone all morning.”

Barnabas sighed. Vernon had always been strange, and more than a little introverted, but was he capable of murder? He couldn’t be sure. Sensing they weren’t going to get any more information out of Vernon unless it had something to do with the lights outside, Barnabas turned his attention to his sister.

“Beatrice.”

Beatrice snorted. “You needn’t look at me. I didn’t do it. I don’t deny that I couldn’t stand my elder brother. You have seen enough arguments between the two of us, but that doesn’t mean I would kill him.”

Barnabas nodded, but his stance didn’t soften toward his sibling. He knew that when Beatrice got into a snit she could be quite spiteful, but whether that spite was venomously deep or not was anyone’s guess.

“Don’t you think it is odd that we all received those letters cunningly arranging for us all to be here? Then one of us is popped off while we are in residence. Why, Barnabas, I think we cannot rule you out of having something to do with this. I mean, who else knows about everybody’s whereabouts like you do? I told you of my intentions only last week, and I know you and Gerald had been discussing his hunting trip. You are just as guilty as the rest of us, and you know it. There is nothing to say that you didn’t send everyone that letter claiming to be ill.”

“I did no such thing,” Barnabas snapped, outraged at the suggestion. “This is my house. Why in the blazes would I want someone to be murdered in it?”

“Because we all know that Gerald wanted more of the family wealth than you were prepared to give him,” Beatrice countered swiftly.

“Wait a minute,” Myles interrupted. “The family wealth was rightly and legally inherited by my father. You have all had your share, including you, Beatrice. As strange as that sounds, you were indulged because grandfather knew you were too selfish to marry. However, both you and Gerald have spent everything. Rather than accept your lot, and reduce your spending to the size of your purse strings, or find a credible way of refurbishing your coffers, you frequently visit, and quite widely hint that funds are needed while making no attempt to curb your lavish desires.”

Beatrice lapsed into disgruntled silence. She didn’t argue with Myles because she knew he was right, but the look she threw him before she pointedly turned away could only be described as evil.

Estelle stared at her. Beatrice was unpleasant at the best of times but she was now positively trembling with her fury. Was that temper likely to get the better of her? Was she capable of murder?

She is certainly spiteful enough, she mused, but then immediately castigated herself for her uncharitable thoughts.

Estelle had to remind herself that she was bearing witness to a personal family matter that was truly none of her business. However, she also knew she had been drawn into this through no fault of her own because of the events of last night. Just the memory of what had happened to her made her shudder. While in the light of what had happened to Gerald her experience could only be considered relatively trivial, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were contrived in a way to get her in the house as well. After all, those people had chased her. There were more of them than her, and they knew the area whereas she didn’t. In the cold light of day, she didn’t doubt any one of them could have caught her if they had wanted to. Instead, they had panicked her and rushed her toward the village, straight into the path of a man who had been drawn back to the area by a lie.

“What are you thinking?” Myles murmured. He knew she had been oblivious to his scrutiny. With her attention diverted, he had taken full advantage of the opportunity to watch the varied emotions flicker across her face. What he discovered was quite telling.

Whatever she is hiding, it is terrifying her he mused.

Inwardly, his rage was building. He wanted to grab her and shake her until she told him all of her secrets. He wanted to shout at her and demand the truth. Instead, he was forced to remain beside his father and wait until someone left a random clue, or betrayed a hint of guilt. Then, he had no idea what he was going to do.

“It is nothing,” Estelle murmured after a few moments.

Myles wondered if she was unwilling to discuss what was bothering her because of the others in the room.

“Might I have a private word with you?” he asked quietly.

Estelle jerked when she realised he was talking to her. She looked at everyone and was dismayed at the accusation in their eyes. A protest hovered on her lips but she gave it no voice. Instead, she rose quietly and allowed him to escort her out of the room. This time, there was no comfort in being alone with him. As she stood in the dark oak and brocade room Estelle felt rather afraid, and watched him nervously as he closed the door and turned to face her.

“Tell me what you were really doing last night,” he demanded quietly.

Their eyes met. The several feet of distance between them suddenly became smaller and smaller. The world narrowed until there was only the two of the

m. She had no idea why she knew, but Estelle realised that if there was one person in this house she could trust, it was Myles. Dutifully, she recounted her experience in the woods culminating in her careering into Myles carriage.

“Did you see any faces?” Myles demanded.

Battling tears, Estelle shook her head. “I have never seen anything more terrifying in my life,” she whispered. “They were all silent. Whenever I walked I made crackling sounds on the twigs. They didn’t. I don’t know what is going on around here, Myles, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I just cannot help but think they are connected in some way.”