The affluent town of Wickhurst was baffled by one certain article in the gossip section of the Town Herald.
It was no ordinary gossip for it involved a death of the Prime Minister. It might as well be that the news had been misplaced, but the theory behind the death deserved its spot in the section for it involved a very mysterious, if not scandalous, murder. A passionate love affair gone wrong was the favorite theory thus far.
Margaret Everard was shaking her head at the absurdity of it all as she folded the paper and set it aside. The Prime Minister's death did not deserve such thing, she thought. How obsessed were the Townspeople with gossip that even the Town Herald would place Osmond Trilby's death in this section?
Her gaze landed on a letter that arrived for her that morning. The plain red was bore no seal.
Calan Haverston, Lord of Easton.
Her mentor.
In her small study that was connected to her own bedchamber, Margaret allowed herself a moment before she read the letter in private, almost certain what it was about.
As one of the few female members of the League of Founders, a group of people whose identities remained anonymous to many due to the nature of their work, it was paramount that she had this room to write secret missives to secret individuals.
Her mother and two youngest sisters might think she was spending most of her time locked in the study knitting or sewing flowers on cloths like women her age pretended to enjoy doing, but Margaret Everard was never good at those things. Only her five brothers knew why she needed this very study. It was understandably obvious that they did not approve of her being part of the League, but they had collectively decided to respect Margaret's decision four years ago. They also made it their mission to make certain that their mother never knew of her daughter's involvement in the group.
It was not only the fact that the League was involved in numerous dangerous missions, but they were also rumored to be connected to many conspiracies all over the Town. "This might just be the news that would end Mother," as one of her brothers, Maxwell, had put it. "She may take pride in it, or she may loathe it. Either way, she is better off not knowing."
She opened the letter, but before she could start reading, the door to her study burst open and brother number two, Levi, stormed in. "Can you not ask Nick or Max to do it instead?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
Margaret folded the letter as a smile crept up her face. Her mind refocused to another mission that had nothing to do with the League of Founders: finding a husband for her best friend as soon as they could.
Victoria Ashdown was desperate to find a husband and Margaret promised to help. With Levi's help. One might say that demanding a list of eligible bachelors from Levi was rather immature, but Tori was fearful that her stepmother might succeed in stealing her inheritance from her deceased mother, and also the dowry her father had set for her before he passed. "No, brother," she replied to her brother.
"Why me? I did not decide to go back to Wickhurst for this. We just had a lovely, chaotic dinner. My estate is waiting for me. I need to go home. Nick and Max can help you."
Margaret may be younger, but there were moments when she had to act as though she was older than most of her brothers. She sighed with patience. "Max makes many people uncomfortable with his cynical air. And should he ever allow himself be bothered, he would grab the first man he sees without consideration just to get the task done. And Nick will merely spend most of his time chasing skirts. Those two are useless. And do not think we never tried to ask them."
"You did?"
"Of course!"
"And they refused?"
"Adamantly."
His brother blinked his emerald green eyes in surprise and disbelief. "They did not even offer a suggestion?"
"Of course, they did," Margaret said, looking at him. "You."
Levi bared his teeth.
"They said it is about time you take on responsibilities after escaping most of them for three years. And I agree. For one, you left the twins to Ralph, of all people, and I have to step in to help him if you must know."
Levi rubbed his hands on his face and Margaret was secretly amused. In the past few years, Levi had been a little distant. Once, he had always been a charmer, but for reasons unknown, he started to lock himself away in his Standbury estate. He tried his best to always appear fine whenever he was with the family, but Margaret could tell he was going through something. Mayhap this was one of her ways to keep her brother home. It may be a selfish move, but Margaret knew all too well what loneliness and despair could do to a person, most particularly to someone who was constantly alone.
"The twins! They have matched many couples from servants up. Should I remind you of their recent project in the names of our very own Ben and Agatha?"
Margaret shook her head, strays of black hair swaying at both sides of her face as she did so. "The twins are too romantic and idealistic. Tori does not need romance. She needs a husband."
"And when are marriage and romance a separate matter? Was I too far gone from society to have missed it?"
"You know very well most marriages do not have romance, and you know very much about romance not leading to marriages."
Her brother's face mellowed at her words for a moment, the memory of the past shared between them for a short second, before his handsome face scowled once more. "I do not see why I have to do this. I have been away from Wickhurst for too long. For God's sake, Maggie, I have been rumored to have gone insane and banished by you all three years ago!"
Margaret's smile did not waver. "But you still have your charm. You do still have your friends and those friends have other friends." Margaret waved her hand. "Do make the list, will you?" As he argued about having little knowledge about his friends now, Margaret dismissed his statement with a roll of her eyes. "I will chaperone the twins to a ball two nights from now with Ralph. You should come with us."
"I thought you only needed a list?"
"You might as well go. You are not leaving Wickhurst today or on the morrow, are you?" She knew she could not go far with Levi. There were buttons she could not press, but she was hoping to keep him with them longer this time.
"No, but I intend to leave within the week. The moment I deem it safe to escape mother."
She smiled with relief. "Then there you have it. You should come with us." And she proceeded to narrate more reasons, focusing a little on their two youngest sisters, whom they collectively referred to as the twins. Ysabella and Emma were not twins, of course, but they were born the same year. And ever since they came into their lives, the pair never ceased to cause them trouble. It was always a task to keep an eye one them.
"And while there, meet your friends. Get reacquainted. Be a charmer. And get us names." When he scoffed, she added, "And it might also help her a little if you dance with her."
"Dance with Tori?"
"Have you forgotten to dance?"
"Why would I dance with Tori?"
"Because you will want people to notice her. Levi Everard is at the Wickhurst Season, and the first thing he does is dance with Victoria Ashdown," Margaret said, waving a hand in the air. "Women would gossip about it, the men would hear it and they would all turn their heads and look for Tori, and then at Tori. Now, do you know why it is necessary?"
Levi pursed his lips.
"She is my best friend, Levi. And she is your friend as well. It is our duty to help her. If her stepmother wins, it will be on our conscience. She is alone, Levi. She has no one else."
Whatever she said, it must have worked because Levi finally said, "You are indebted to me, Margaret."
She grinned. "Gladly. Now, off you go. If mother looks for me, do tell her I am painting," she said as she unfolded the letter once more.
He wryly looked at her. "You do not paint."
"Oh, but I do. In secret, of course."
"Of course," Levi murmured, turning to leave.
"And the list, Levi!" she called after him.
After Levi firmly closed the door, Margaret returned her attention on the letter and began to frown as she read on.
M,
You must have heard by now about the Prime Minister. At the moment, all ten Town Leaders, along with both House of Lords and Commons, are in preparation for a convention to vote for a new Prime Minister.
The Deputy Prime Minister have tasked the League to investigate further.
Osmond Trilby has received only one caller on the day he was murdered. It was Cole Devitt, Lord of Ashmore, current head of Wickhurst's Men of Courts.
Margaret stiffened and her hand began to shake as she read on.
Cole Devitt called on Osmond Trilby on Monday. The latter was found dead the morning after. The cause of death is a stab wound on his back. Further investigation by the Town Guards reveal Osmond Tribly bled to death in his room the night prior.
That very same night, Cole Devitt was expected to attend a dinner hosted by Willowfair's head of Men of Courts, but he never arrived. He left town, perhaps shortly after Trilby's death. His whereabouts are yet to be determined.
The League has taken the investigation from the Town Guards. For the time being, we are looking into every possible angle of the murder, but Cole Devitt is the top on the list of suspected individuals.
Should he return to Wickhurst, which we believe he would, you are to report it immediately. It is also your task to observe his movements while awaiting further orders.
As Wickhurst's head of the Men of Courts, he has all the connections he could utilize in his favor. All further missives shall be strictly delivered only to your residence and mine.
Send weekly reports promptly.
-CH
Margaret read the contents once more, this time more carefully.
She hoped the name had changed, that she had simply misread Calan Haverston's letter, but she read it correctly the first time.
Standing to her feet, Margaret lit a fire, dipping the edge of the letter in it, before dropping it into the small wooden box. She absently watched the fire consume the paper until it was naught but a sheet of fragile ash before she closed the lid. Walking to the window that overlooked the Everard gardens, Margaret hugged herself despite the warmth of the room with a frown.
Cole Devitt.
She had not seen him since he strode into their parlor to take Agatha back to prison. Not long ago, her brother's fiancée and also Ysabella and Emma's former governess, was branded by the entire town of Wickhurst as a witch simply because Benedict chose her over someone in his station. Many events followed that day until the happy wedding Benedict and Agatha deserved. Margaret had been preoccupied, even until now with Tori's problem. Never had she had a moment to think of Cole Devitt after he came back to Wickhurst to fill in the role as the new head of the Men of Courts.
Or maybe Margaret merely mastered the art of blocking any thoughts of the man.
Cole Devitt.
Tori had once said she should hate him for what he had done, but Margaret might after all be stupid because she could not bring herself to summon any hatred. He had left her incapable of hating him, much more so develop affections toward anyone else.
Sometimes she wondered if she merely confused the feeling to that of love all these years. He had ruined her for anyone else. He was the sole reason for the darkest years of her life. But how could she hate him if she also understood why he did what he did?
Whatever she may feel toward him then and now, Margaret knew with almost all certainty that Cole Devitt was no murderer.
However, she had a duty to the League, and if Cole Devitt was a suspect to a murder, then she should start working.