Page 46 of The Case of the Curate

Kate decided to throw everything at him. Discretion was pointless here. More even than Lord Chadbon, Carver had a need to embrace silence.

She said conversationally. “She was murdered, you know.”

“What?”

She could almost have sworn his shock was genuine.

“But who would…? How did…?”

“She was stabbed through the heart with an antique dagger belonging to Lord Chadbon.” In some deep part of herself, she marveled at her own ruthlessness. She had learned, it seemed, from much less lethal, much more trivial situations, that if people were off balance and surprised, the truth could spill out unbidden.

Carver was clearly knocked sideways. He clutched his hair in both hands this time, his gaze wide with horror.

“Dear God,” he whispered. “Can this get any worse?”

“Actually, yes. Where were you at half past ten on Tuesday evening?”

“In bed,” he said, staring at her. “Thinking over my plans for extending the stables. Elizabeth likes to ride—” He broke off with a groan. “God, my poor Dinah…”

“Indeed. When was the last time you saw her?”

“Tuesday morning. I called at the court with Mr. Gibb, Elizabeth’s father. Both he and my mother were eager for Lord and Lady Chadbon to attend the wedding, so we went to be sure they were free. I saw Dinah polishing the banister, but obviously we could not speak.”

“Obviously. Were you planning to continue the affair?”

He shook his head. “No, we had already agreed to end it the last time we’d met, a fortnight before. It still did my heart good to see her again, though I wish we had been able to speak…”

“Lord Chadbon received you in his study?”

“He did, yes. They were expecting guests and he was clearly in something of a hurry, so Mr. Gibb said his piece, Lord Chadbon graciously agreed to attend, and we departed.”

“Have you ever seen His Lordship’s collection of antique weapons?”

“Of course. It is not large, but he’s very proud of it.”

“Did you see the weapons that day?”

“I noticed they were there, but not particularly.”

“One of them is a Florentine dagger, its hilt of intricately wrought steel. It lay on the top of the bookcase, just below the swords hanging on the wall. Did you see it there? Can you see it now in your mind’s eye?”

He gazed into the distance beyond her head. Then his eyes came back into focus. “Actually, no, I can’t. I mean, I know the piece you mean, and I have definitely seen it there, but I don’t recall it from Tuesday.”

Kate’s heart beat a little faster. “Because it wasn’t there? Or because you weren’t paying attention?”

“I don’t know. Are you telling me that was the weapon that killed Dinah?”

“Yes.”

“God, this is horrific.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Can anyone vouch that you did not leave your house that night?”

“I don’t suppose so,” he said dully. “We all retire early and rise early… I suspect I must look guilty to you. And I am guilty of much, but I would never have hurt Dinah.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You had already hurt her! What do you think would have happened to her, to the child, if she hadn’t died?”

“Yes, yes, but I told you, I would have helped her. I had no reason to kill her, for she would never have told anyone I was the father.” Even as he said the words, he saw the implication, for his eyes widened.