Murder at Locke Abbey (7 page)

“Yes, that’s what his friends call him but until his father dies, we’ve to call him Master William. I thought you were here to help your father investigate these strange goings on.”

“We’re both here to investigate. Contrary to what you may have been told, women are as capable as men, especially in matters of reason and logic.”

“If you say so, Ma’am.”

“I do,” Thea assured her with a playful grin. “Tell me, Ella, did you know Mary Potter at all?”

“Not well. She’d only been here a few years but she wasn’t well liked.”

“Oh?”

“She’s the daughter of a school teacher, see, only she’s illegitimate. Her Pa used to come see her often though and put ideas in her head. Mr Black calls them, delusions of grandness.”

“Grandeur.”

“That’s right, delusions of grandeur. Anyway, her Pa died when she was ten and his legitimate family wanted nothing to do with her and her Mam. And anyway, he was only a school teacher, respected maybe but not rich, so they probably had a bit of a hand to mouth existence themselves. Mary’s Mam finally got married and then the babies started coming, one a year. He felt he had done Mary’s Mam a great favour in marrying her, and he wasn’t inclined to be kind, especially to Mary. Her mother sent her here when she was old enough and she began as laundry maid. She’d worked her way up to chambermaid by the time…” Her words were suddenly choked off.

“I’m sorry, Ella, it’s insensitive of me to ask these things.”

“No.” Ella sniffed into her handkerchief. “It’s not your fault. Truth is, I was remembering some of the things I used to say to her. She had such big dreams, and we kept bursting her bubble. Now she’s gone, I can't help but think, what was the harm in dreaming, if it made her happy?”

“Tell me abou
t her dreams?” Thea asked.

“S
he had all sorts. One was that she would save up enough to go to London and become an actress on the stage. Another was that one of Mrs Cole’s guests would fall in love with her and whisk her away, either to be a kept woman or his wife, depending on her sentiment at the time. Another had her saving up enough to book passage to the Americas, where she would claim some land and find gold, or marry a farmer and become rich.”

“She had quite an imagination.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Do you think it possible she… well, was having relations with someone in the house?”

“Oh no, Ma’am, she wasn’t allowed to talk to the family, only upper maids can do that.”

“Then what do you think she was doing in the family rooms?”

“Some of us wondered if she was living out a dream as best she could, pretending to be rich by sitting in the parlour or something.”

“You sound dubious.”

“Well, it’s a big risk, isn’t it? If she was discovered, she’d have been out on her ear.”

“Sometimes I wish I understood human behaviour,” Thea lamented as she returned to her search, looking
through the drawers until she discovered a journal. She flicked through the pages and aided by Mrs Garwood’s excellent penmanship, was able to read it exceptionally quickly.

“Ah, Lady Thea.”

She jumped, wondering what the fluttering in her stomach was. Perhaps she was coming down with something.

“Cole, you surprised me.”

“I apologise for interrupting you, I saw the open door and wondered who was in here.”

“No matter, I was just reading Mrs Garwood’s journal, but it doesn’t contain anything incriminating
so far.”

“No, the magistrate also found and read it
; he agreed.”

“Di
d the magistrate remove her jewellery too?” Thea asked.

Cole cocked his head to the side. “No
, why do you ask?”

“Ella tells me that she had a string of pearls which are missing.
Was she buried in them?”

“
No. Perhaps her husband took them for safe keeping.”

“Perhaps, but he is rich enough that he need not worry
about such things.”

“Ma’am?”

Thea looked to Ella.

“Do you need me
any more?”

“No, thank you for your help, Ella.”

The maid hastily curtseyed to Thea and Cole, then all but ran from the room.

“Oh, Ella?”

The girl froze, as if she were in trouble, and turned back. “Ma’am?”

“Are the servant
s’ quarters in the attic?”

“Some
are.”

“I wish to tour them after breakfast, please make sure that everyone is informed, I would hate to stumble across something private.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She curtseyed again, then fled.

“The servant
s’ quarters?” Cole questioned.

“Yes. I’m wondering at the possibility of a rope being secured up
there, which the killer could have used to escape.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“I agree but since I’m not yet prepared to admit that a ghost did this, I must make sure.”

He
favoured her with a warm smile, which gave her some very impure thoughts.

“If you would just bear with me for a moment,” she returned her attention to the journal, needing to do something to distract herself from her overactive imagination.

She turned the pages at a steady pace, quickly finishing the journal. Reading about Mrs Garwood’s unhappiness had helped to temper some of her more unacceptable urges towards Cole.

“There,” she closed it with a flourish and smiled at him.

“You did not just read a dozen pages of writing in that time,” he said with disbelief.

Thea simply gave him a rather smug smile. “Didn’t I?”

“No, it’s not possible… Is it?”

“That is for me to know and
for you to find out, Sir.” It was unusual for her to be so playful, especially with a virtual stranger, but his answering grin assuaged her doubts about propriety.

Unfortunately his smile soon faded.

“It almost seems a shame to tell you this now, but Mrs Lanning has agreed to allow an autopsy providing we confine ourselves to his head.”

“She has? Oh, that is wonderful news! When can we do it? Oh but the funeral is today, is it not? How shall we manage it?”

“I heard from the doctor this morning, he will perform the… well, he will remove the skull before the funeral and the body is being readied for transport now. That should give him just enough time, he assures me, and Mrs Lanning will not have to see him afterwards. Mr Small will accompany the body, so he is not left unattended.”

Her spirits deflated slightly at the realisation that she would not be performing the dissection, she did so long to perform one but while medical schools had allowed her and her parents to observe,
they would not allow either woman to operate, and her father wasn’t interested enough to want to.

Still, she would have
her theory proved or not. Even if an apoplectic seizure was disproved, it was better than basing her theories on a lie.

“Can I observe
the procedure?”

“I see no reason why not. I called on you
r father first thing, to let him know the developments, and he is happy for me to escort you. He wishes to remain here and talk to the guests.”

“Yes, he is far better suited to dealing with people
than I am. When do we leave?”

“After breakfast, if you are inclined to eat, that is.”

“As I said, I am not squeamish, Cole. If this is your first time however, you might wish to wait until afterwards,” she teased.

“That sounds very much like a challenge.”

“Well that rather depends on your constitution, doesn’t it.”

She took a watch out of her pocket and opened the case. “Perh
aps we should visit the servants’ quarters now, then we can get straight off after breakfast, what do you think? Do they need time to tidy their rooms?”

“I doubt it, Black runs a tight ship, but I’ll go and inform him if you wish.”

“Please, I’ll run to my room and quickly change into a riding habit, then meet you back here in fifteen minutes.”

“Not one to dawdle, are you?”

“Never,” she agreed a little smugly.

“Still, perhaps we should say half an hour, to give the servants time if they need to return.”

“But that will mean I have time to have my hair done.”

Her petulance over something most women seemed to enjoy appeared to amuse him.

“And as awful as that is, nonetheless, I believe it only fair.”

“Very well, thirty minutes.”

***

Cole was sure to be back in the hallway in plenty of time but it was Thea who was tardy, and still trying to pin her rather fetching hat to her hair.

Her habit today was a deep, emerald green, which suited her very well and he idly wondered if there was a colour that would not suit her. The tailored jacket squared her shoulders, pinched in at her waist and flared over her hips, creating a lovely silhouette. The lack of petticoats was also appealing. Sometimes he felt as if he was conversing with women through a lace cage and on more than one occasion, he had wondered if the excessive use of petticoats was designed to make ladies keep their distance from people.

“Ouch!” she cried, stabbing herself with the pin, rather than safely passing it through her bun and out the other side of the hat.

“Here,” he rushed up to her and took the pin. “Let me.”

One hat pin, with ornate black beading on the head, was already in place, although the hat was wobbling dangerously. He passed the pin through, taking care to miss her scalp, and
out the other side, then she handed him a piece of cork and taking his cue from the first pin, he pressed it onto the end. Next she handed him a third pin, and a forth.

“I take it that you like to go fast,” he said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I have never seen a hat attached with more than two pins, nor pins fastened with cork. I can only assume that your hat must endure more than most lady’s do.”

She turned to him, a pleased smile on her lips. “We will make a detective of you yet.”

Her praise pleased him and he had the insane thought to kiss her. Not that kissing her was a bad or wrong thought, but doing so in a hallway was certainly not a good idea, her reputation could be easily compromised.

He noticed her smile
fade as she became aware of his proximity and her breath hitched.

“We- we should, that is, we have work to do.”

“Of course.” He stepped away and gestured for her to follow him. “Shall we?”

He led her to the servants
’ stairs at the end of the hallway, hidden by what appeared to be a large closet door, then they climbed the bare, wooden, narrow and steep steps into the attic corridor.

She looked confused for a moment. “I should have taken note of the distance to Mrs Garwood’s door,” she lamented.

He hoped that he was the reason she hadn’t done it. She did not seem to possess much in the way of artifice, as many young women did, but she did seem… well he wasn’t sure. Cold wasn’t the right word, he could see her passion for various things quite often. No, she seemed almost… well afraid, and she hid that fear, and whatever caused it, behind logic and intellect.

He didn’t know what she was afraid of, exactly, perhaps she had been disappointed in matters of the heart before.
Her father hadn’t said as much but perhaps it had been implied.

He was also aware that he should not toy with her affections. Most young women might brush an innocent dalliance off if it came to nothing b
ut if Thea’s passion ran as deep as he suspected, he must not become one of her passions until he was sure of his affections.

Something told him that he would not have to wait very long; in a day or two, he would either be madly in love, or ready to throttle her. He hoped it would be the former and not the latter.

“Shall we go back down?” he asked.

“No, it might just be trial and error for a moment.”

She walked down the corridor and entered the fifth door. Ignoring the room entirely, not even sparing it a cursory glance for curiosity’s sake, she headed to the window.

“It doesn’t open,” she lamented. “No wonder it’s so hot in here. Are they all like this?” She turned to him.

“I confess, I do not know.”

“Well, if none of the windows on this side open, then we will have our answer, but it must get rather hot and stuffy up here.”

She moved onto the next room and window. It too didn’t open, so she went to the next, and the next until finally she found one which was slightly larger, probably a feature of the architecture, and was a casement window, so she was able to undo the latch and push it open.

“Another two windows down,” she said as she came back in.

“How the devil do you work that out?” he asked.