Accomplished In Murder

By Dara England

Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2011 Dara
England

Edited by Lauren Dee

Cover art by Dara England

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excepting brief review
quotes, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without
the express written permission of the copyright holder. The
unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work
is illegal.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, real events, locations, or organizations
is purely coincidental.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Accomplished In Murder
is the first in
a series of historical mystery novelettes featuring intrepid
Victorian heroines up to their bustles in crime. These works are
only loosely connected and can be read in any order.

DEDICATION

This work is for Mom and Dad, with whom I
have enjoyed many a fictional murder.

Chapter One

Near the village of Morcastle, off the coast
of Cornwall

Celeste’s delicate boots sank deep into the
muddy earth. Her hair was mussed by the wind, her hem dampened by
the dew-soaked weeds creeping over the cemetery path.

Still, she felt freer now than she had in a
long time. Anything was better than being cooped up in the big
house with Absalom and his horrid family. Not even the distant
rumble of thunder and the wind’s promise of a coming storm deterred
her resolve to seek solitude in the ancient cemetery.

Such a strange place this was to bury one’s
dead. Not a church in sight, not even a wrought iron fence to keep
out the wild animals and other unwanted visitors.

As she wandered among the tombstones, Celeste
shivered, suspecting she was one of those unwelcome trespassers.
She wasn’t of the family after all, except by marriage. Might the
dead resent her intrusion? What an odd notion. But then one got
strange ideas after spending enough time among the locals here.
They were a superstitious lot, these Cornish.

As she walked deeper into the graveyard, she
was struck by the stark contrast between the rough, stone markers
standing side by side with intricately carved marble angels and
crosses. Here was proof of the contrasting affluence and decline
the family had experienced over the centuries.

They were suffering through one of those
periods of deterioration now, as was evidenced by the overgrown
condition of the rambling burial ground.

She had no sooner had the thought than a
sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.

Stopping, she sank down onto an elaborately
carved bench beneath the shadow of an ancient mausoleum. The bench
was shaped like a pair of intertwined angels’ wings and an
inscription across the seat listed the birth date and death of some
past ancestor’s “Beloved Child.”

Celeste forced her mind to happier thoughts.
She was far too inclined to brood these days.

Resting her palm against her as yet flat
belly, she thought of her recent suspicion, one she had yet to
share with her husband. She had no wish to disappoint him should
her hopes prove false. Absalom could prove nasty when
disappointed.

A soft rustling nearby broke into her
thoughts. Over in the stand of trees lining the cemetery something
large was moving behind the screen of leaves and branches. What was
it? Perhaps there was a wild animal hiding in the gloom, watching
her.

Even as her heart beat faster, she told
herself the reaction was ridiculous. Most likely it was only a
gentle deer cowering in the thicket. Or possibly a goat had escaped
one of the neighboring farms and strayed onto the landlord’s
property.

Nevertheless, she could not stop her thoughts
from returning to other similar occasions over these past few weeks
where she had felt watched by hidden eyes. It was never anything
she could prove, never anything more than the tread of soft
footsteps trailing her down lonely halls of the great house. The
whisper of a cloak disappearing around the corner whenever she
turned to look back.

But she was not imagining these incidents.
Someone
had
begun following her with secret, possibly evil,
intentions. And it might be that same someone watching her now.

Suddenly the graveyard seemed a less safe
place.

Her dizziness had passed now. Even if it
hadn’t, she would not have lingered here. Unease spurring her on,
Celeste abandoned her seat and hurried along the path that would
return her to Blackridge House.

Chapter Two

Hanover Square, London

Drucilla Winterbourne rapped softly at the
closed door of her brother’s study and didn’t await permission to
enter before letting herself into the enveloping warmth of the
inner room. A lively blaze crackled in the fireplace and a stream
of pale sunlight slanted through the window to fall across Edwin,
seated in a familiar pose. Ensconced behind his mahogany desk, he
was all but concealed behind a wall of precariously stacked
papers.

Seating herself daintily on the edge of a
plump armchair opposite him, Drucilla heaved a delicate sigh.

There was no response from her brother.

Her next sigh was a little more
pronounced.

Edwin never glanced up from his work. “I
suppose I am expected to ask to what do I owe the pleasure of this
interruption?”

She ignored his irritable manner. “I have had
a letter from Celeste.” She took her time withdrawing the rumpled
missive from her pocket and offering it to him.

His curiosity did not seem piqued so she
added, “She sounds rather distraught.”

“Distraught?” He did not go so far as to set
aside his work, but at least he lowered it.

“Well, perhaps I put it too strongly. But I
know Celeste, and there is definitely an anxious undercurrent to
her message. She has returned from her marriage trip and settled
into her new home in Morcastle. Now she asks for my company.”

“Why? Is she unwell?” Despite himself, her
brother displayed concern. Drucilla knew he was fond of her
girlhood friend. Celeste had spent so much time in their home she
was practically a fixture of the house. Drucilla privately
suspected Edwin had even entertained notions of offering for her
hand. But that had never happened. Instead, Celeste stunned
everyone this last year by suddenly choosing to marry a wealthy
gentleman with a country estate in Cornwall.

Taking pity on Edwin, Drucilla assured him,
“Of course she is well. I’m sure she is enjoying more sunshine and
fresh air than either of us have seen for a season.”

Edwin’s relief turned to annoyance. “Then
what is so urgent it couldn’t wait until tea?”

“Kindly allow me to finish, dear brother, and
you shall find out. Celeste certainly sounds to be in good health,
but there is something troubling her. I suspect it may have to do
with her new husband or his family. She did not name the problem in
so many words, of course, but it is clear she is most…anxious.”

Deep unease stirred within her as she
remembered a particular passage from the letter.

Please come to me, dearest Cilla. I shall
feel safe with you near
.

Safe
. Such an odd choice of words.
Drucilla suppressed a shiver but did not quote the passage to
Edwin, for she felt that would be a betrayal of Celeste’s
confidence. Besides, the hint of danger it suggested would disturb
her brother and run counter to her purpose.

Already, Edwin was frowning as he assumed a
lecturing tone. “Other people’s marital bliss, or lack of it, is
their own affair, Drucilla. I’m sure you are reading too much into
this. There was probably some little kerfuffle between Celeste and
her husband. She penned an agitated letter to you and forgot the
matter soon after posting it. The married state is made up of such
tempests in teapots.”

As if you would know
. She refrained
from speaking the words aloud and smoothed her skirts instead. “If
you say so, dearest.”

She was always most outwardly docile when
inwardly determined to dig in her heels. She knew by her brother’s
narrowed eyes he was aware of the meaning behind her soft words and
careful rearrangement of silk.

His forehead creased and he tried reasoning
with her next, as she had known he would. “Even given there was
truly some problem with Celeste’s new family, I fail to see what
you expect me to do about it.”

“What I expect of you is precisely nothing. I
simply came down to inform you of my plans to depart for Cornwall
before the week is out. Celeste needs my support. I’ve set one of
the maids to packing my things now and sent a footman out to check
the train schedule.”

Edwin rubbed wearily at his high forehead,
suddenly looking older than his years.

Drucilla tilted her head to one side to
consider his unfortunate pallor in the grey light filtering through
the window. He spent far too little time enjoying himself out of
doors, she decided, and expended too much energy dabbling in
politics. But apart from his paleness and the faint rings beneath
his green eyes, he remained a fine looking man. His wavy golden
hair was the opposite of her own dull, black mane and he had
inherited the soft, narrow features of their deceased mother,
whereas Drucilla carried the angular jaw and sharp nose of their
father. Despite his having absconded with the lion’s share of
physical virtues in the family, she was rather proud of him.

But in this case she could not allow him his
way.

She said, “Would you please cease fussing
over everything that might go wrong and instead set that marvelous
mind of yours to work at aiding me with my travel arrangements? I
mean to be away in a day’s time.”

“Impossible. You know I cannot get away so
quickly.”

She smiled innocently. “But of course. I
would never ask you to abandon your work. I shall manage quite well
enough making the journey on my own. Naturally, I shall bring Aunt
Bridget along so that all will look well and proper. I have already
sent word to her of the impending journey and am certain she is
looking forward to it. You would not deprive an elderly lady of a
holiday to the coast, would you?”

By bringing Aunt Bridget into the plan she
had managed to trap him and he knew it. That much was clear by his
silence and doleful expression.

“I suppose,” he said after a long stretch of
quiet, “the fresh air on the coast would do you both good.”

Drucilla smiled softly. “As you say, dear
brother. I shall remove myself from town as quickly as
possible.”

She quitted her seat to lean over the desk
and offer him a quick peck on the cheek. For all his pomposity, he
was still her only immediate family.

“You needn’t worry about me while I am away,”
she said. “I vow I shall be prudence itself.”

“I very much doubt that,” he said.

She ignored his sarcasm and scurried from the
room, her mind already leaping ahead to preparations for the
journey.

Despite the ominous tone of Celeste’s letter,
Drucilla was rather excited at the prospect of traveling to
Cornwall. Whatever troubles loomed over her friend in Blackridge
House, she would somehow smooth them away.

Chapter Three

Blackridge House, Cornwall

Celeste shivered as the wind cut through her
hastily donned shawl. Overhead, thunder rumbled and dark clouds
blotted out the moon, casting the empty rooftop where she waited
into sinister shadow.

All at once, she became aware of another
presence, one whose footfalls were so soft she hadn’t heard them
over the wail of the wind. The familiarity of the approaching
figure did nothing to still the sense of dread within her. If
anything, her heart pounded a little harder.

“You’re late.” How she hated the way her
voice trembled! Not that it mattered. Not that he didn’t already
know she feared him. His mocking eyes said as much. She had never
trusted those eyes.

He raised a dark brow. “You were so eager for
my arrival?”

She refused to rise to the bait this
time.

“Of course I’ve been impatient. It is
positively frigid out here; I think it’s about to rain. Whatever
possessed you to suggest a meeting in such a place?”

He moved nearer and leaned casually against
the rail beside her. Together they peered out into the darkness,
down to where the craggy rocks met the angry surf far below.

He said, “This was the only rendezvous point
I could think of where I could be certain we would not be observed
alone together.”

Celeste wiped suddenly sweaty palms against
her skirts and tried to smother her rising alarm. She raised her
voice above the gale. “And what have we to say to one another that
must be kept secret? This had better be urgent, a matter of life
and death.”