Tuppence (The Tipton Hollow 3)

Mark eyed the dense shrubbery on either side of the debris strewn cart track that crept uncomfortably toward the front door with a shiver of unease. “Because of predators, I expect,” he muttered in disgust.

Isaac coughed and straightened in his seat in a way that later he would consider was bracing himself. For now, he was focused on what questions he wanted to ask of the grieving Mrs Richmond.

It took an age for a frazzled looking maid to yank the door open and blink owlishly at them as if she had never seen a stranger at the door before.

“May we speak with Mrs Richmond?”

The maid stared at Isaac with a slack jaw for several moments until she seemed to rummage around in her most distant memories for her tutelage about what to do in the presence of a Lord. Eventually, she dipped into a clumsy curtsey, but nearly fell over and clutched at the door she was holding open as she forced herself upright. Blushing furiously, she stepped back to allow them into the house.

Isaac stepped cautiously into the large entrance hall around which was a series of identical doors. It was a positive labyrinth of rooms in the centre of which was a massive winding staircase.

“The mistress says she cannot see you now,” the maid informed them quietly when she returned several moments later.

“It isn’t a request, I am afraid,” Mark growled. “Tell me where she is. If she refuses to speak with us, I will arrest her for failing to assist us with a murder investigation.”

The maid blinked and paled. “She is in the garden room, sir.”

“Show me.”

Together, the men followed the maid through the door in the furthest corner of the entrance hall, down a long corridor, and into a room which jutted out into the garden like a giant’s footprint. Three sides of the long, narrow room were covered with windows and on one side was a pair of French doors. It was beside these that they found Mrs Richmond, dressed from head to foot in black, staring blankly out across the lake.

“I told that stupid girl that I wasn’t taking visitors,” Mrs Richmond snapped when she realised that she had visitors.

“Your maid doesn’t have a choice in the matter, and nor do you,” Isaac informed her.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” The grieving window scowled.

Mark introduced himself and Isaac.

“What is he doing here?” Mrs Richmond glared at Isaac.

“I am working with the Lord Chief Justice’s office,” Isaac replied. This was enough to make Mrs Richmond sit upright and stare at him in dismay.

“Have you found the fiends who murdered my husband?” she demanded. “I demand they hang for what they have done.”

“We will find whoever is killing the villagers. It isn’t just your husband the killer has murdered. He has murdered Mr Lewis too, and tried to murder Lord Aldridge, and several of his estat

e workers. What we need to know from you is what happened with regards to the purchase of Mr Glover’s farm?”

Mrs Richmond blinked at him as if she had never heard of the place before. “Pardon?”

“Did your husband mention to you that he had purchased the Glover farm?”

“Well, he said that he had purchased a neighbouring farm.” Mrs Richmond squinted at Mark. “What does that have to do with his death?”

“Do you have any papers pertaining to the property sale?”

“If there are any in the house, they will be in my husband’s study.”

“May we see them?” Mark asked.

Mrs Richmond scowled at them but heaved herself wearily out of her chair and tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Ruth, close the doors for me, and make sure that everywhere is locked.”

While the maid hurried to carry out her orders, Mrs Richmond led the men through the house. “I never really liked living here anyway.”

“Do you intend to stay here?” Isaac asked.

“God, no.” Mrs Richmond laughed bitterly. “I always told him that he would do better purchasing a proper estate, but he always had to do things his own way. He wanted an estate in Tipton Hollow.” She flicked a rueful look at Isaac. “I think it was because he felt that if he were the only other landowner, he would be socially equated with you. I told him that nobody would see him as your equal because he didn’t have a title, but Angus wouldn’t listen. He loved this house. He called it odd. I hated it on sight. It’s like a mausoleum.”