Mistress - Amanda Quick [137]
He opened the door cautiously.
The interior lay in deep shadow. The light from the lantern revealed the torn transparency curtain in front of the stage. It had not been repaired since Sands had ripped it from the ceiling hooks.
“Do you see anything?” Iphiginia asked softly from the doorway.
Marcus spun around. “Damn it, Iphiginia, I told you to wait outside.”
The scrape of a boot on the wooden floor of the hall sent a cold chill through him.
“Iphiginia, move.” Marcus put the lantern down and launched himself toward the door.
He was too late.
A man’s arm came out of the shadows from behind Iphiginia and caught her by the throat. Iphiginia gave a soft shriek that was cut off almost immediately.
“Not another step, Masters.” Herbert held Iphiginia in front of him as a shield as he moved into the chamber. The lantern light glinted on the barrel of the pistol in his hand. “Or I will shoot you.”
“Let her go, Hoyt.” Marcus came to a halt. He took a reluctant step back and stopped next to the lantern. “This has all gone far enough. It must end tonight.”
“I agree.” Herbert smiled bitterly. “But as I have written most of the other scenes of this play, I will write the ending. I fancy something melodramatic that will make an interesting tidbit for the ton. What do you think about having the notorious Lady Masters kill her husband when she discovers him at Dr. Hardstaff’s Museum on their wedding night?”
TWENTY-ONE
WHAT HAPPENS TO IPHIGINIA IN YOUR LITTLE PLAY?” MARcus asked.
“I regret that my good friend the former Mrs. Bright —or should I say Miss Bright, of Deepford in Devon— will suffer an unfortunate accident on the rear stairs. She will break her neck as she flees the scene of her crime of passion.”
“You will never get away with this,” Iphiginia vowed. She was clearly frightened, but still self-possessed. “You’ll hang, Mr. Hoyt. If not for this, then surely for the murder of Mrs. Wycherley.”
“You reasoned that out, did you?” Herbert smiled his jovial, ingratiating smile, but his eyes were as hard as glass. “Very clever, madam. I always did admire your intellect. So much so that I tried to keep you out of this, but you would not be warned off.”
“It was you who locked me in the sepulchral monument in Reeding Cemetery, was it not?” Iphiginia demanded.
“I thought a good scare might persuade you to mind your own business, but I was wrong.”
Marcus kept his coat hooked over his shoulder. “Why did you kill Mrs. Wycherley?”
“Ah, yes, Constance Wycherley,” Herbert said in a musing tone. “She was the one who began it all. Her little blackmail business operated quite innocuously for years. In exchange for a plump fee, she convinced any number of the governesses and companions she placed in certain households to give her interesting items of information concerning their employers.”
“And then she blackmailed those people?” Iphiginia asked.
“Yes. It was a rather brilliant scheme, but I saw at once that Mrs. Wycherley lacked the vision to make it fulfill its true potential. She kept her demands very modest and stuck to blackmailing only the lesser members of the ton. She was afraid to pursue the more powerful names on her list.”
“For fear that they would discover her identity and take action to stop her?” Marcus asked.
“Precisely. She didn’t care to take chances, you see. Very conservative type. But I insisted that we broaden the scope of the business. She was quite nervous about it.” Herbert shrugged.
“How did you convince her to take you on as an accomplice?” Iphiginia asked.
“I merely threatened to expose her. Actually, we worked together rather well for a while, although she became increasingly anxious. Unfortunately, after Iphiginia’s man of affairs called to make inquiries about a certain Miss Todd, she panicked and demanded we halt the scheme entirely. I was forced to kill her before she ruined everything.”
“And then you ransacked the place in order to make it appear that she had been murdered by one of her victims?