Free Harriett by Rebecca King Page B

excitement that
coursed through her.
    “ Good morning,” Harriett called and stood back to allow the
men into the hallway.
    “ Good morning, Harriet,” Mark replied gently as he studied
her.
    There
were dark smudges beneath her eyes that told him she had slept as
little as he had. Her complexion had lost the healthy glow she had
had last night, and she now stood before him pale and guarded. He
hated to see her thus and searched for something to say to reassure
her.
    “ Do you remember Detective Brown?”
    It was just over twelve hours since they had left the house,
of course she remembers him , Mark thought
and mentally winced at the stupidity of his question.
    “ Yes, I do, good morning, Detective. Can I get you both some
tea?”
    “ Yes, please. That would be wonderful.”
    Harriett
hesitated at the parlour door. She couldn’t bring herself to go
into the room today any more than she could last night and wondered
how she was going to get around her sudden reluctance to even think
about tidying the room.
    “ Why don’t we go into the sitting room where it is more
comfortable?” Mark suggested softly. He had seen the brief flash of
fear on her face and read her reluctance for what it was. “Has
nobody been in there yet?”
    “ Not yet. Babette has been baking and I, well -” Harriett
hesitated. She was at a loss to explain her aversion to being in
the room because she wasn’t normally a squeamish person but for the
life of her she couldn’t even open the parlour door, let alone go
into the room.
    “ It’s alright, Harriett, we do understand, and it is quite
fortuitous really,” Mark murmured softly. “I will explain why in a
moment.” He motioned toward the rear of the house and followed her
down the hallway.
    What was
it about this man that seemed to rob her of her common sense? This
was the second time she had met him, and the second time her world
felt slightly off kilter, as though nothing was quite the same and
wasn’t ever going to be right again. Not in a negative way, but in
a way that she knew that something major had happened in her life
and it would always colour the way she viewed events and
circumstances around her.
    The men
took a seat in the room next to the kitchen and waited while
Harriett fetched a tray of tea things. She poured the fragrant brew
while Babette placed a plate of assorted cakes on the table, the
scent of which made Mark want to groan. Once everyone was furnished
with tea and cake, the ladies took their seats and waited with an
air of trepidation for Mark’s news.
    “ I don’t see any way to soften the news ladies, but I am
afraid I have to inform you that it looks like Minerva Bobbington
died of unnatural causes last night.”
    Harriett
stared at Mark as the words rolled around in her head. They tried
to seek a place in which to fall into some semblance of order and
make sense, but failed miserably.
    “ Murder?” She whispered as she stared in horror at Mark, then
Isaac. She wanted to deny it was possible, but couldn’t because the
truth was written in their eyes. She jumped when the warmth of
Mark’s hand landed gently on hers as it rested on the table. The
calm reassurance in his steady green eyes immediately settled her
and she took a breath to quell the shock. In that moment he was her
anchor in a storm tossed sea; her steady ray of hope in the storm
that had descended upon her and unleashed its fury. Murder? In her
house? How? Who? Why? Questions tumbled around in her mind but her
mouth was too dry to speak. Tears pooled in her eyes at the thought
of poor Minerva Bobbington. Who would want to kill such a poor,
defenceless soul as Minerva?
    Mark
knew that it was highly unprofessional of him to offer even such a
minor attempt at comfort, but the distress on her face made him
angry. Someone had upset her; made her cry in fact, and that made
him all the more determined to get to the bottom of what had really
gone on in her parlour.
    “ How?” Harriett asked in a