Part 16 (2/2)
Whether he had jumped or not, his death was John's fault. Bless Vicar Layton for overlooking an apparent suicide. ”Do you know where he is?”
”Out by the woods.”
In the pet burial ground. His fingers smoothed Bones's neck. ”I'll see that he is moved to the family plot as soon as I replace Bridwell. I don't want him praying over Morrell.”
”Thank you. And I'll write a note to Forbes. Do you want to take Bones now?”
”He's used to you, Turnby. And you to him. Besides, he's safer here. I don't want someone to strike at me by killing my dog. But I'll be back.”
Giving Bones a final scratch and a vow to return, he scrambled to his feet and headed for the Court.
Mary clipped a fading blossom from the apothecary rose, holding it close to inhale its powerful fragrance. The rose garden had been her special place since the earliest days of her marriage, its stone walls providing a secluded thinking spot that offered shelter from cold northern breezes and Frederick's hot words. The scent relaxed her, bringing peace to mind and body-which was why she made the fading blooms into potpourri for her bedroom and sitting room.
”Beautiful place.”
She nearly dropped her basket. ”What are you doing here?”
”Such a gracious hostess.” The sarcasm belied the twinkle in James's eyes. ”My friends and I came to call. Your butler offered to summon you, but I preferred to do it myself.”
”Arrogant. What if I don't wish to be at home to visitors?”
”But you would never turn us away, despite your suspicions. You want to see your sisters settled. Yet they must be chaperoned-hence your presence and mine.”
”Yours?”
”Two couples. Two chaperones. A gentleman must guard against compromise.”
”I would never-”
”I know,” he interrupted soothingly. ”But I wasn't sure when this started. You were so obviously matchmaking.”
Her cheeks warmed. He was right about her suspicions, she conceded as she turned toward the house. Mind-reading again? She didn't trust the girls to any man. Women had so little control over their lives.
”Stay a moment,” he begged, laying a hand on her arm to stop her progress. ”You needn't rush off just yet. Northrup is in the drawing room. Or are you afraid of me?”
”Of course not.” She was, though. And after she had fled him yesterday, he must know it. She wasn't sure what he wanted, but it was more than help with his investigation. Was he looking for a new mistress? Caro had mentioned an orphanage in Naples that he supported-a strange charity for an English gentleman.
Unless it houses his by-blows, whispered that voice, recalling Justin's tales from India. But even the basest suspicions did not mitigate the growing attraction she could not seem to banish.
Backing away, she fingered the ruffled petals of a striped rosa mundi, then clipped several of its flowers, though it was not a rose she usually used for potpourri. Every time she saw him, the yearning grew. The only way to reduce the inevitable pain was to stay in crowds. Those terrifying urges were easier to ignore when others were present. And today the crowd was in the drawing room. What was Justin doing home in the afternoon?
James broke into her reverie. ”I spoke with Turnby this morning. That makes three people who now accept that I have not changed.”
”He believes you?” Turnby had loudly condemned both twins for years.
”Bones convinced him.”
”Your dog. I had forgotten about him. How is he?”
”Old. But even identical twins smell different. He always hated John.”
”With cause. So did Turnby know anything?”
”He claimed the offenses he knows about are too old to matter.”
”That is true of many of us. I know of nothing less than three years old.” She caressed the pink and white blooms of a York and Lancaster rose, wondering yet again how one bush could produce two different flowers. ”Did Robby tell you more about the note John received?”
”No. He barely admitted the facts you had already discovered, and he insists no one knows how the note arrived. Am I to believe that someone entered undetected?”
”It is quite likely in a place the size of the Court. Even an adequate staff does not watch unused wings.”
”And John kept a very reduced staff,” he finished for her.
”It is also possible that a servant conspired with the killer. Are there any with particularly serious grievances, or who were singled out for especially severe punishments?”
”I don't know, but I can check. Turnby and Forbes are good friends. Forbes may cooperate now that Turnby accepts me.”
She nodded.
”I also have agents investigating everyone John hired from outside the area. A response to one inquiry was waiting when I returned from seeing Turnby, but I cannot decide whether it has any bearing on John's death.”
”Tell me.” She sat on a garden bench.
He paced twice before continuing. ”I wondered why the Bridwells believed so many of John's lies-Mrs. Bridwell repeats slanderous gossip at the drop of a hat, and her husband is nearly as vehement. It is not a trait I usually a.s.sociate with a vicar.”
”Some people thrive on scandal.” She shrugged.
”Like Miss Hardaway in Ridgefield, or Lady Beatrice in London.” He shook his head. ”Gossips are found everywhere, but they rarely repeat proven lies. Destroying their own credibility would set them up as laughingstocks and lose their audience for future tales.”
”What is your point?”
”Mrs. Bridwell delights in repeating known slander, especially about you.” He joined her on the bench. ”At first I thought that it was spite born of envy. You are everything she is not-beautiful, talented, kind, and possessed of a social position she can never achieve. Or it might have arisen from guilt-you still look after the poor and ailing, a job she ought to be doing.”
Her cheeks heated at the unaccustomed praise. Her eyes fell to the hands twisting in her lap, but she remained silent, unsure how to respond. This was exactly the sort of flattery she had hoped to avoid. Yet warmth suffused her skin.
”But neither of those explains her vehemence. Then there is the vicar. Not only does he rip at your character, but he considers John a reasonable man.”
”Hardly surprising. John controlled his living. No one ever criticized John in public, and I doubt anyone discussed him with Bridwell even in private, so he may not have known the truth.” She twisted away, presenting her back. ”We've been through all this. What purpose is served by repeating it?”
”Why does Bridwell continue his praise even though John is dead?”
”To hold his position. As John's brother you will applaud his loyalty.”
”He might think that, I suppose. But I could not keep him here even if I approved of him. My father promised that post to your brother and paid for much of his schooling. The plan was to bring Howard here as a curate until your father retired, then give him the living.”
”I know, but that is ancient history. Howard was still at the university when Father died. Even if the post had been offered, he would have turned it down-as you would know if you had been here. He and John were mortal enemies. John was furious that your father had paid all Howard's tuition in a lump sum that the school refused to refund. Howard was better off making his own way from the start.”
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