A Bewitching Bride by Elizabeth Thornton

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    The police had yet to arrive, and guests were beginning to come downstairs, so he found the hotel manager and gave him an edited account of what had taken place.
    “You should assemble the guests,” he said, “and tell them that there has been a dreadful accident that the police will want to investigate. No one is to leave the premises until they get here. Oh, and post a footman at every door to prevent anyone leaving.”
    The poor manager stuttered and stared until Gavin barked out, “See to it, man. At once, do you hear?”
    The dining room staff had already begun to set out chafing dishes for the influx of guests for breakfast, so Gavin took the opportunity of helping himself to beef-steak and scrambled eggs. When he sat down to eat, however, he discovered that he didn’t have the stomach for it. He still couldn’t take it in. At any moment, he expected to hear Will’s belly laugh. He’d look up, and Will would be grinning down at him.
    He did look up, visualizing Will’s red hair and freckles, but the face he stared into was evenly tanned and framed by dark, windblown locks.
    “May I join you?” asked the younger Massey.
    “By all means.” Gavin pulled out a chair.
    Massey sat down, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked at Gavin’s untouched plate of food and smiled faintly. “Yes,” he said, “appetite is the first thing to go when one loses someone close.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do you think anyone would mind if my parents were to go on to Braemar as planned? This is all very upsetting for older people.”
    Gavin followed the direction of Massey’s gaze. Mrs. Massey was weeping into a voluminous handkerchief, and her husband had his arm around her, his hand patting her in a consoling gesture.
    “They would never get through,” Gavin said, “even if they could find a conveyance to take them. I’m afraid we’re all marooned here until the roads are open.”
    Massey nodded. “That’s what I told them, but your opinion will carry more weight. You live in the area, don’t you?”
    “Across the river.” He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Even so, I wouldn’t tempt the elements unless I had a good reason to try for home.”
    “That’s what I thought.” A moment of silence went by. Finally, Massey said, “Have you spoken to Dalziel?”
    “Dalziel?” That got Gavin’s attention. “Is he ill?”
    “No, not exactly, but he’s taking it very hard. He shouldn’t be alone, but he refuses to leave his room.” He swallowed another mouthful of coffee. “He has this odd idea,” he went on, “that because he is an employee, it’s not his place to fraternize with his betters. That’s the likes of us, by the way. I can’t talk him out of it, but I think you may succeed where I failed.”
    Massey drained his cup and got up. “I need more coffee,” he said, and he moved away, leaving Gavin feeling rather abashed.
    He had known that Will held Dalziel in high esteem. Will was hopeless at keeping records and writing letters, while Dalziel excelled at it. It was more than that. He took a pride in it. “My factotum,” Will said when referring to his assistant, but Gavin had always thought of Dalziel as an employee. He knew little of the man’s origins. His position was awkward and not unlike that of a governess. Most governesses were invisible.
    He drummed his fingers on the white tablecloth. Rising abruptly, he left the dining room and went in search of Dalziel.
    It wasn’t Dalziel he found, however, but Janet Mayberry, on the point of leaving her room to go in search of sustenance.
    “Gavin,” she exclaimed, “just the man I want to see.” She grabbed his arm, yanked him into her room, and shut the door. “What is this my maid tells me? Is it true? Did Dr. Rankin meet with a terrible accident?”
    In as few words as possible, he gave her an account of how things stood. He was reaching for the doorknob when she collapsed against him.
    “I feel