Free Accomplished In Murder by Dara England

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