instruments. She selected a thin tool that resembled a crochet hook.
“Please be patient with me. I promise not to take too long.” Violet gently inserted the instrument into where she thought the bullet might have entered. After a few moments she realized she would have to probe deeper.
“Just a little bit more, sir. Ah, I believe I’ve found it.” Violet drew the bullet out past the sinewy shreds of muscle and fragments of bone. She held it up triumphantly in her stained hand. “Here it is, my lord. You can rest easier now.”
With that done and her hands rinsed, Violet still had her embalming dilemma. She clasped Lord Raybourn’s cold, limp hand in her own as she contemplated what to do. Without even the tick-tick-tick of the mantel clock, all was as silent as a tomb.
She squeezed the man’s hand and released it. “Lord Raybourn, there is nothing I can do other than ask for the family’s permission and hope that they agree. I expect the queen will be furious with me if they don’t, but I’ll face that when it happens. I’ll be back shortly.”
With dread her only companion, she climbed the stairs and knocked on a closed door through which she heard murmuring voices. “Lord Raybourn? Lady Raybourn?”
Stephen’s voice bade her enter. The couple was sitting at a small, round tea table, with half-finished cups before them. Katherine Fairmont still looked wan and distressed.
“Pardon me for interrupting, but I need to discuss something with you.”
“Of course, please sit down, and given that I have seen you covered in grass stains with scraped knees, you must call me by my Christian name,” Stephen said. “Tea?”
Violet sat in an armchair with an elaborate floral covering next to a marble-topped pedestal table. “Thank you, but no. Lord Raybourn has been moved into the dining room and made more comfortable. I recommend that he remain there until such time as the funeral takes place.”
“That should just be a day or two. The family has its own mausoleum at St. Margaret’s churchyard in West Hoathly. Can you arrange to have him transported there?”
“Yes. Well. Ah, I have to tell you that Lord Raybourn cannot be buried just yet.”
“Whatever are you talking about? Why not? Are things . . . worse with him than we thought?”
“No, it’s simply that . . . that . . . while the queen cannot honor him with a state funeral, she would like him to have as decent a lying-in as possible. She may even send a member of the royal family to pay respects.”
Violet waited for a lightning bolt to strike her. When it didn’t come, she felt emboldened in her falsehood.
“Lord Raybourn must therefore be preserved as long as possible, so that dignitaries can have time to visit.”
Stephen frowned. “It seems unusual for the queen to be so involved in the death of one of her lords.”
“You must understand, though, that the queen has become much more attuned to death since the loss of her dearly beloved Albert. The loss of a peer means so much to her now.” At least that statement was mostly true.
Stephen’s expression was conflicted. Katherine’s face was blank, although her hand shook as she picked up her teacup again and brought it to her lips. Stephen glanced sympathetically at his wife before speaking again.
“Violet, you must understand how horrific this has been for us. Father dying so unexpectedly and so brutally, then the detectives just leaving him here like that. Now the queen—while flattering us immensely—has sent away the family undertaker and is asking us to postpone the funeral. It’s a bit overwhelming. I suppose it is a grace that Mr. Crugg was replaced by someone else we know.”
“I know this is very hard on you both, and I—”
“Not just on us. Dorothy and Nelly aren’t here yet. They will be devastated.”
“When will they arrive?”
“Dorothy will be on the six-thirty train to London Bridge tomorrow. Nelly is in London for the Season, and is meeting
“Please be patient with me. I promise not to take too long.” Violet gently inserted the instrument into where she thought the bullet might have entered. After a few moments she realized she would have to probe deeper.
“Just a little bit more, sir. Ah, I believe I’ve found it.” Violet drew the bullet out past the sinewy shreds of muscle and fragments of bone. She held it up triumphantly in her stained hand. “Here it is, my lord. You can rest easier now.”
With that done and her hands rinsed, Violet still had her embalming dilemma. She clasped Lord Raybourn’s cold, limp hand in her own as she contemplated what to do. Without even the tick-tick-tick of the mantel clock, all was as silent as a tomb.
She squeezed the man’s hand and released it. “Lord Raybourn, there is nothing I can do other than ask for the family’s permission and hope that they agree. I expect the queen will be furious with me if they don’t, but I’ll face that when it happens. I’ll be back shortly.”
With dread her only companion, she climbed the stairs and knocked on a closed door through which she heard murmuring voices. “Lord Raybourn? Lady Raybourn?”
Stephen’s voice bade her enter. The couple was sitting at a small, round tea table, with half-finished cups before them. Katherine Fairmont still looked wan and distressed.
“Pardon me for interrupting, but I need to discuss something with you.”
“Of course, please sit down, and given that I have seen you covered in grass stains with scraped knees, you must call me by my Christian name,” Stephen said. “Tea?”
Violet sat in an armchair with an elaborate floral covering next to a marble-topped pedestal table. “Thank you, but no. Lord Raybourn has been moved into the dining room and made more comfortable. I recommend that he remain there until such time as the funeral takes place.”
“That should just be a day or two. The family has its own mausoleum at St. Margaret’s churchyard in West Hoathly. Can you arrange to have him transported there?”
“Yes. Well. Ah, I have to tell you that Lord Raybourn cannot be buried just yet.”
“Whatever are you talking about? Why not? Are things . . . worse with him than we thought?”
“No, it’s simply that . . . that . . . while the queen cannot honor him with a state funeral, she would like him to have as decent a lying-in as possible. She may even send a member of the royal family to pay respects.”
Violet waited for a lightning bolt to strike her. When it didn’t come, she felt emboldened in her falsehood.
“Lord Raybourn must therefore be preserved as long as possible, so that dignitaries can have time to visit.”
Stephen frowned. “It seems unusual for the queen to be so involved in the death of one of her lords.”
“You must understand, though, that the queen has become much more attuned to death since the loss of her dearly beloved Albert. The loss of a peer means so much to her now.” At least that statement was mostly true.
Stephen’s expression was conflicted. Katherine’s face was blank, although her hand shook as she picked up her teacup again and brought it to her lips. Stephen glanced sympathetically at his wife before speaking again.
“Violet, you must understand how horrific this has been for us. Father dying so unexpectedly and so brutally, then the detectives just leaving him here like that. Now the queen—while flattering us immensely—has sent away the family undertaker and is asking us to postpone the funeral. It’s a bit overwhelming. I suppose it is a grace that Mr. Crugg was replaced by someone else we know.”
“I know this is very hard on you both, and I—”
“Not just on us. Dorothy and Nelly aren’t here yet. They will be devastated.”
“When will they arrive?”
“Dorothy will be on the six-thirty train to London Bridge tomorrow. Nelly is in London for the Season, and is meeting
Similar Books
