Aunt Roz shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Pippa. I hadn’t heard his name until Christopher brought it up at lunch.”
I nodded. “Me, either. Thank you. For the help and the information.”
“It was my pleasure, Pippa, dear.” She smiled up at me from the bed. “Did the doctor give you something for the pain? Would you like me to try to find you an aspirin?”
“I’m all right,” I said, since the idea of accepting medication from anyone, in a house where someone had, or so it seemed, been killed by an overdose of medication a few days ago, wasn’t particularly pleasant.
Again, I didn’t really suspect Aunt Roz of wanting to do away with me. But it was better to be safe than sorry, I felt.
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,” I added. “It must be close to tea-time, surely?”
Aunt Roz sprang to her feet. “Capital idea. Perhaps with something stronger in it. Brandy is good for blood loss.”
Is it? “I’m sure that’ll be perfectly lovely,” I said. “Shall we?”
“Let’s.” Aunt Roz tucked her hand through my (good) arm and guided me towards the door. “I’m so glad you’re in one piece, Pippa. You know I love you like you are my own.”
“I know, Aunt Roz,” I told her. “I love you like you are my own, too. Christopher is more my brother than anything else, you know.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m well aware.” She squeezed my arm as she pulled the door open. “If I didn’t know, we would have had something to say about your living arrangements, believe me. But we’re well aware of how the two of you feel about one another.”
“Thank you, Aunt Roz.” I sniffed back a wave of emotion that was, most likely, exacerbated by the brush with violent death I had just experienced, as I followed her into the hallway. “Being accepted into your family is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Dear me,” a languid drawl said from across the corridor. It didn’t belong to Aunt Roz. “It appears I’ve arrived at an inopportune time. Again.”
“Crispin.” Aunt Roz looked taken aback, while I, I’m sure, looked suspicious.
“What are you up to, St George? Eavesdropping again?”
How long had he been leaning against the wall outside my door, exactly? Had he been there when I’d asked Aunt Roz my questions about his birth? Had he heard our thoughts on his relationship, what there might be of it, with Laetitia Marsden, and her possible designs on his inheritance?
We hadn’t said anything particularly accusatory, I thought. It had been Christopher who had been on the receiving end of all my speculations on Crispin’s guilt earlier. I hadn’t mentioned any of that to Aunt Roz, so at least he wouldn’t have overheard me practically accusing him of murder.
“Have you been discussing anything worth listening to?” he asked, uncoiling himself with a rather serpentine movement from the wall. When neither of us said anything to deny or confirm, he added, “I came to see whether you needed help getting downstairs, Darling, since Kit went off to play Cops & Robbers with the detectives, but I see you’re in good hands.”
“Actually,” Aunt Roz said, as Crispin fell into step behind us, “if you don’t mind helping Pippa downstairs, Crispin, I’d like to stop off in my own room first.”
Neither of them paid any attention to my comment about not needing anyone’s help, of course.
“Delighted,” Crispin drawled, with an elegant, if abbreviated bow, and appropriated my arm from Aunt Roz when we reached the corner where the west wing met the central portion of the Hall. “Come along, Darling.”
He tugged me towards the main staircase while Aunt Roz disappeared into her room.
“You’re being ridiculous, St George,” I grumbled, even as I allowed myself to be drawn along. “I needn’t help getting down the stairs.”
“Now, now, Darling.” He smirked at me. “If I can behave like a gentleman for long enough to help you, you can act like a lady for long enough to let me.”
“A gentleman?” Was that what he thought he was? “Surely that’s beyond your ability, St George.”
“Do you really think so, Darling?” He looked left and right, up and down, before pulling me determinedly towards the top of the staircase. “This is not the time to antagonize me, you know. It’s a long way down, and if you’re not careful, my degree of concern might just…” He paused, “—drop.”
Drop?
I stopped dead—pardon the pun—at the top of the stairs and twitched my arm out of his hold. “Are you threatening me, St George?”
That left-and-right, up-and-down… had that been to make sure no one was around to see him push me down the stairs? Was that the reason he had come up to my room? He knew I suspected him, and he wanted to eliminate me before I could tell Scotland Yard what I suspected?
His lips curved up. “Would I do such a thing, Darling?”
