dress.
It suited everyone in Rudhall to have her proclaimed the
culprit. She dragged a shawl out of the cupboard and flung it about her
shoulders.
A thrill went through her small, slim form.
She was not going to let them win. She, Miss Lucy Anne
Trotter, was going to unmask the criminal.
Her chin jerked up and her eyes flashed.
She strode out of the door and down the stairs. She was no
longer going to sit and think and muse and mull.
It was time for action. She had a plan.
An excellent plan.
Rose sauntered by carrying an armload of laundry. She paused
long enough to send Lucy a superior look.
Lucy smiled philosophically. Ah, the silly maid would learn
the truth soon enough. She chose to forgive the poor mortal creature, for the
maid knew not what she was doing. She was blowing raspberries at Lucy—the great
Lucy Anne Trotter—who would go down in history as the greatest investigator
ever known to mankind.
The very same Lucy Anne Trotter who would soon unmask the
killer and present him or her on a gilded platter to Lord Adair. Oh, the
foolish maid would be sorry then. So, so sorry.
Rose narrowed her eyes.
Lucy sniffed smugly, raised her nose in the air and then
promptly tripped over her feet.
She lay face down like an egg dropped from a height spread
out all over the floor.
A giggle somewhere behind her made her scramble back up. Her
face was bright red as she scuttled towards the door.
Her ego was bruised, but her heart was no less determined.
***
An hour later, Lucy peeped into the morning room from the
corner of the French windows.
No one was around.
She clutched the bundle she was holding close to her chest
with one hand and opened the window with the other.
Once again, moving her eyeballs from side to side to ensure
that she was alone, she stepped into the morning room and quickly closed the
window behind her.
Thereafter, she tiptoed her way across the room and attached
an ear to the door. Hearing nothing she bravely pulled open the door. This was
more difficult considering the bundle she was carrying, but by twisting and
turning her fingers in the most painful and awkward manner, she managed to
touch the handle with the tip of her thumbs and pushed.
The door swung open easily and she almost somersaulted into
the hallway in surprise.
After calming her jogging heart, she took a deep
breath and scurried towards the wooden staircase, turned the corner and finally
sprinted towards her room.
It was remarkable. She had managed the entire thing without
anyone seeing her, or more importantly, seeing the bundle she was carrying.
She tipped the contents on the floor in her room, a pleased
smile on her lips.
She was ready for the next part of the plan.
As she worked, she couldn't help feeling slightly smug. Lady
Sedley and Peter had been sitting in the morning room, and they had claimed
seeing no one go up the stairs towards Lord Sedley's room at the time he was
murdered.
Lucy chuckled. If they admitted that they had not seen
anyone go up the stairs, then it was clear who the murderer was… or rather, who
the murderers were.
Lady Sedley and Peter had killed Lord Sedley.
Lucy added the finishing touches and surveyed herself in the
mirror.
Her smile broadened. All she had to do now was to follow
Lady Sedley around. The woman was bound to let something slip or try and talk
to Peter about it.
And for that Lucy's attire was perfect. She could shadow
Lady Sedley with no fear of being seen. She was as good as invisible.
For Lucy had disguised herself as a tree.
Chapter 15
"Ack." Elizabeth muffled a screech.
"Blargh," Lucy softly exclaimed.
"What in the devil's name have you done to
yourself?" Elizabeth growled.
Lucy inched her head out from behind the scantily clad
statue of Apollo. "I don't know what you mean."
"Why are you dressed like an unwashed potato?"
"I am not dressed like a potato."
"You look like one."
Lucy shook a branch at Elizabeth. "Potatoes do not have
leaves or stems protruding
It suited everyone in Rudhall to have her proclaimed the
culprit. She dragged a shawl out of the cupboard and flung it about her
shoulders.
A thrill went through her small, slim form.
She was not going to let them win. She, Miss Lucy Anne
Trotter, was going to unmask the criminal.
Her chin jerked up and her eyes flashed.
She strode out of the door and down the stairs. She was no
longer going to sit and think and muse and mull.
It was time for action. She had a plan.
An excellent plan.
Rose sauntered by carrying an armload of laundry. She paused
long enough to send Lucy a superior look.
Lucy smiled philosophically. Ah, the silly maid would learn
the truth soon enough. She chose to forgive the poor mortal creature, for the
maid knew not what she was doing. She was blowing raspberries at Lucy—the great
Lucy Anne Trotter—who would go down in history as the greatest investigator
ever known to mankind.
The very same Lucy Anne Trotter who would soon unmask the
killer and present him or her on a gilded platter to Lord Adair. Oh, the
foolish maid would be sorry then. So, so sorry.
Rose narrowed her eyes.
Lucy sniffed smugly, raised her nose in the air and then
promptly tripped over her feet.
She lay face down like an egg dropped from a height spread
out all over the floor.
A giggle somewhere behind her made her scramble back up. Her
face was bright red as she scuttled towards the door.
Her ego was bruised, but her heart was no less determined.
***
An hour later, Lucy peeped into the morning room from the
corner of the French windows.
No one was around.
She clutched the bundle she was holding close to her chest
with one hand and opened the window with the other.
Once again, moving her eyeballs from side to side to ensure
that she was alone, she stepped into the morning room and quickly closed the
window behind her.
Thereafter, she tiptoed her way across the room and attached
an ear to the door. Hearing nothing she bravely pulled open the door. This was
more difficult considering the bundle she was carrying, but by twisting and
turning her fingers in the most painful and awkward manner, she managed to
touch the handle with the tip of her thumbs and pushed.
The door swung open easily and she almost somersaulted into
the hallway in surprise.
After calming her jogging heart, she took a deep
breath and scurried towards the wooden staircase, turned the corner and finally
sprinted towards her room.
It was remarkable. She had managed the entire thing without
anyone seeing her, or more importantly, seeing the bundle she was carrying.
She tipped the contents on the floor in her room, a pleased
smile on her lips.
She was ready for the next part of the plan.
As she worked, she couldn't help feeling slightly smug. Lady
Sedley and Peter had been sitting in the morning room, and they had claimed
seeing no one go up the stairs towards Lord Sedley's room at the time he was
murdered.
Lucy chuckled. If they admitted that they had not seen
anyone go up the stairs, then it was clear who the murderer was… or rather, who
the murderers were.
Lady Sedley and Peter had killed Lord Sedley.
Lucy added the finishing touches and surveyed herself in the
mirror.
Her smile broadened. All she had to do now was to follow
Lady Sedley around. The woman was bound to let something slip or try and talk
to Peter about it.
And for that Lucy's attire was perfect. She could shadow
Lady Sedley with no fear of being seen. She was as good as invisible.
For Lucy had disguised herself as a tree.
Chapter 15
"Ack." Elizabeth muffled a screech.
"Blargh," Lucy softly exclaimed.
"What in the devil's name have you done to
yourself?" Elizabeth growled.
Lucy inched her head out from behind the scantily clad
statue of Apollo. "I don't know what you mean."
"Why are you dressed like an unwashed potato?"
"I am not dressed like a potato."
"You look like one."
Lucy shook a branch at Elizabeth. "Potatoes do not have
leaves or stems protruding
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