Midnight in Austenland (Austenland 2)

Everywhere Charlotte looked, she saw signs of murder. The eerie, knowing expressions on the portraits’ faces, the silence in the hallway, the clatter of a plate in the dining room, the emptiness in Mrs. Hatchet’s room.

Charlotte had bathed and dressed after her daybreak snooping and was just about to descend the stairs to breakfast when she heard voices on the landing. She peeked one eye around the corner. Mrs. Hatchet and Miss Gardenside.

“I came to check on you,” said the mother/nurse.

“I’m doing better,” said Miss Gardenside. “A lot better. In fact, I’ve never felt so good.”

“Good. That’s good. You have three more days to go?”

Miss Gardenside nodded.

“Good. That’s good,” Mrs. Hatchet repeated. “So, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Good.”

They both looked out the window.

“You got all dressed up,” Miss Gardenside said, gesturing to Mrs. Hatchet’s navy blue dress. “Are you staying?”

“I just wanted to check on you. But I can stay if you aren’t handling things well on your own.”

“I’m handling things just fine.”

“Well. I will see you next week. Behave yourself.”

“I am,” Miss Gardenside said through clenched teeth.

Mrs. Hatchet nodded and left. Miss Gardenside remained alone on the landing, still staring out the window.

“Riveting,” said a voice beside Charlotte’s ear.

She startled back.

“Eddie. You love to sneak.”

He peeked back at Miss Gardenside, who sighed and then headed downstairs. “I do hope Miss Gardenside was providing better entertainment before I interrupted you, or I might suggest more interesting avenues for spying. Such as through Mr. Mallery’s keyhole. I have not spied that out myself, but perhaps Miss Charming could give you a review. Or Colonel Andrews.”

“Mrs. Hatchet was here,” Charlotte said, ignoring him. She didn’t want to talk about Mr. Mallery with Eddie. “That’s the interesting part. Because she isn’t dead.”

“That is a relief, though I wasted an afternoon drafting a damn fine eulogy. Wait—how did Mrs. Hatchet die again?”

“In the conservatory, by Colonel Mustard, with her own name,” Charlotte said, pretending she was joking too, so that she wouldn’t have to mention dead bodies again. After all, anyone could be the murderer. Even Eddie.

Eddie offered his arm. “No more mystery for you or your womb, sister dear. Breakfast trumps all.”

And for that matter, if the murder was real and not part of Colonel Andrews’s game, then the victim could have been anyone as well. Still, now that Mrs. Hatchet was confirmed alive, Mr. Wattlesbrook’s disappearance the day of Bloody Murder put him at the top of Charlotte’s Probably Dead list.

“What did you gentlemen do with Mr. Wattlesbrook that day he showed up drunk?” Charlotte asked Eddie and Colonel Andrews over breakfast. The others had already dined and departed.

“I was for tossing him out the front door,” Colonel Andrews said. “But driving … a carriage in his condition did seem a mite dangerous. Grey feared for his life.”

“Or the lives of others,” said Eddie.

“So he proposed we lock him up till he sobered up.”

“On the second floor?” Charlotte asked.