“Monsieur?” Jacques followed him to the other side of the second floor to the door of his sister’s room. It was still unlocked, and once inside, he waited until the door was firmly shut.
In a hushed whisper, Ben said, “I want to bring my father’s body back here.”
Jacques’s eyebrows lifted a fraction, but there was no surprise written on his face. “The manor?”
“Yes.” Ben rubbed his eyes. “I want to examine him for myself.”
“Does this have something to do with Leith’s death?”
It had everything to do with his death and his sister’s. If the same doctor had also examined his father and declared his manner of death, then Ben had the responsibility to set it right. On the dock, the physician had been wrong and his persistence, despite the obvious signs that foul play was involved, convinced Ben of his appalling nescience. The doctor could not be trusted.
“There were markings on Leith’s throat,” Ben explained, “made before his death. The bruising is consistent with strangulation. I’ve seen it enough now to know.”
Jacques smirked, though his tone was humorless. “I suppose your little escapade as the cemetery intern paid off.”
Ben scoffed. “Say what you want, but it was the easiest way to keep my studies relevant.”
“Right.” Jacques dropped the subject. “And your father? They said he passed from heart failure, but you don’t trust that?”
“Not for one second.” Ben almost laughed. “I’ll have a look at him myself.”
It did not sit right with him, and he needed to trust his gut. He could be wrong, but he would rather know for himself than let it go without trying.
“Is it wise to bring him here? You don’t live alone.”
“She won’t be awake,” he said. “We can leave late once it’s dark, and bring him through the delivery door in the kitchen. There’s a latched door in the floor with a set of steps that leads straight to the wine cellar.”
Jacques groaned. “It’s a big risk.”
“That hardly matters.” Ben couldn’t care less about the danger. He wanted answers, and no one else would give them willingly. “If I know what happened, it will bring me one step closer to solving this damnable puzzle.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Jacques asked. “What if he was ill and it was the cause of his heart failing?”
Ben bristled. He couldn’t be wrong, not when his every instinct screamed that he was onto something. At the door, half-open to the hall, he paused. Jacques waited for him, knowing he wasn’t done speculating.
“If my father was sick, if he truly felt that the end was near, he would not have married Remi.” Ben felt certain of it. “Not to mention the receipt I found. He started something, Jacques, and my father never started anything that he couldn’t finish.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will take the carriage and retrieve his body tonight.”
Ben shook his head. “I’ll be going with you, mon ami. He is my father, after all.”
“Of course.”
They left Soleil’s room for the second time, leaving it as it was. They did not speak to one another, both worrying about exhuming a corpse in the dead of night. On their way down the main stairs, Sylvie caught them both with a panicked look in her eye. Ben stopped mid-step. “What is it?”
“Men in uniform are asking to speak with you,” she said hurriedly, “and Madame.”
SUSPICIOUS
REMI
Ben’s room was vastly different from Remi’s. Where hers was soft and feminine, Ben’s was plush and luxurious. It was warm, too, and not just because of the fire that crackled in the fireplace. The walls were a fine shade of mulberry, trimmed with birch accents, and the pictures on the walls were landscapes, some grand in scale. There were two wing-backed chairs in front of the fireplace, a tiny table between them. Some books were stacked there, one left open haphazardly over an armrest. Ben must have been reading it and set it aside in haste for something else.
Maybe he reads before bed? She wondered to herself.
Seeing his bed then, she could not blame him for abandoning the book in such a state. His bed was a massive mahogany four-poster, large enough to get lost in, with spired posts and an ornate canopy. Remi approached it with fascination. She ran her fingers along the ridges of carvings along the posts and footboard, admiring the artistry. No doubt it was the most expensive piece in the room. It was dressed with a golden, tawny duvet, with deep red accents and pillows to match. She pictured Ben beneath its sheets, wondering what it would be like to lay beside him.
Shameful, she thought, dousing the flame that grew in her stomach before it could get too hot.
Remi edged to the window and pulled the heavy curtains aside. It was safer to sit on the cushioned seat that overlooked the garden than to daydream herself into a stupor over his bed. Instead of fantasizing, her thoughts drifted to more somber memories. It was only weeks ago that Leith had found her there and comforted her at Edgar’s wake. He’d teased her then, too. How shocked he would be if he could see her now, hidden away in Ben’s room. Already she could imagine his eyes sparkling with laughter as he prodded her for details.
Tears welled in her eyes knowing that she would never hear him laugh again.
“Remi.” Elise’s voice was a balm. “I’m so sorry.”
Turning to face her cousin, Remi saw in her expression the same sadness. She held out her hands and Elise came to sit beside her on the bench. For a moment, they were quiet.
“This is awful,” Elise finally said. Her voice was thick with sorrow. “I cannot be at odds with you anymore, Remi. You are my sister.”
Remi untangled herself from Elise and sat back against the frame to address her fully. Any reprimands she had for her cousin about her carelessness were forgotten. The worn, worried look on Elise’s face conveyed a sense of culpability, as though she had been punishing herself since Remi’s discovery. With a great sigh, Remi relented. “Neither can I.”
Elise dissolved into tears. “Thank goodness!”
“You’re lucky it was me,” Remi said as she pulled Elise into her arms. “If anyone else had discovered you, I don’t know what might have happened. You must be more discreet.”
