Part 7 (1/2)
”No. All agreed he was cup-shotten.” Grimshaw seemed lost in his own dark speculations.
”He was trying to catch a serving wench called Edith,” Susanna said calmly. ”A girl fleet of foot and reluctant to share his bed. Because she was his intended victim, it seems likely to me that Edith is the one doing the haunting. Why should I accept your theory in place of mine own? What argues for this spirit to be a manifestation of Jane? Why not Edith?”
”Because Jane cursed Sir George as she lay dying,” Grimshaw confessed in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.
”Were you there?”
”No, but . . . well, I heard it from one who was.”
”Hearsay, then. Gossip. Rumor.” She discounted all three with a wave of her hand. ”Edith still seems a more likely candidate to me.”
”But Lady Appleton, Edith cannot possibly be the ghost that haunts your house. Edith is alive and well and living right here in Manchester.”
Chapter Thirteen.
To reach the burgage of Oliver Ince, Edith's husband, a plain, four room house, required a brisk walk to the shops near Salford Bridge, which spanned the river Irwell. As Grimshaw was a man of some prominence in Manchester, he was recognized at once, though not entirely with pleasure. Because she was in his company, Lady Appleton was grudgingly made welcome, too, but the announcement of her surname brought a deepening of what was already a distinct chill in the atmosphere of the house-room.
Oliver Ince was a butcher and fishmonger, a bluff, florid, barrel-chested fellow who put Susanna in mind of the queen's father, old Henry VIII, whose likeness she'd seen in portraits. ”Appleton?” A sound that was very nearly a growl underscored his repet.i.tion of her name. ”We want naught to do with any Appleton.”
Susanna moved closer to the chimney corner. Made of both brick and stone, the fireplace was a mark of prosperity. At the back was a wide open hearth for cooking. A baby young enough to still be completely immobilized in swaddling clothes slept in a cradle near the hearth while a toddler clung to his mother's skirts. Edith Ince paid no attention to the child, her attention fixed on the visitors. Her lips trembled slightly and her hands twisted in the folds of her ap.r.o.n.
Susanna wondered why, for whatever else she might have done with her life since leaving Appleton Manor, Edith was not the one who'd gone back there to play at being a ghost. This was no frail wraith, but rather an apple of a woman, red-cheeked and almost as round as she was tall.
”What do you want with us?” Ince draped one protective arm over his much shorter wife's stiff shoulders.
”I have come to ask your help,” Susanna told them.
Suspicion rolled back at her in waves. Distrust of the gentry, rightfully earned in this case, prevented these good people from taking her at her word.
Grimshaw, bl.u.s.tering a bit in the face of opposition, placed himself at Susanna's side. ”You'd be well advised to a.s.sist Lady Appleton in any way you can,” he warned Ince. ”I am not without power in this place, nor am I ignorant of its laws. Casting carrion into the rivers is forbidden, and muckheaps are most strictly regulated here in Manchester. Moreover, there is talk of a new law, to require all the fish dealers in Smithy Door to fix their boards over the channel.”
Ince made a low noise in his throat.
With a sigh, Susanna placed a restraining hand on the lawyer's velvet sleeve. Nothing would be gained by threats. She approached Edith Ince cautiously, a serious but not unfriendly expression on her face. ”I have come to advise you, Mistress Ince, that your good name is at risk. It is being bandied about in the countryside that you are a spirit, a ghost that has come back to haunt Appleton Manor and cause the death of one that dwelt there.”
Ince exploded forward. Putting his wife firmly behind him, he came at Grimshaw, his meaty hands extended as if he meant to grasp the lawyer by the throat and throttle him. Susanna had barely time enough to get out of his way. Startled, she called out Mark's name. He'd been told to wait in the street and was within the house an instant later, skidding a bit as his leather shoes came in contact with the broken-flagged floor.
The abrupt arrival of reinforcements stayed Ince's attack. He dropped his arms to his sides and darted suspicious glances from Mark to Grimshaw and back again. Even together, they'd have been hard-pressed to subdue the bigger man, but with a formidable glower, Ince retreated, his fists still clenched but his temper under control. He threw his head back as he moved away, staring up at the raftered ceiling as if to seek divine a.s.sistance in that effort.
After a moment, he visibly relaxed. All the anger seemed to drain out of him. ”G.o.d will dispose,” he said. ”What is it you want of us, Lady Appleton?”
”Answers.” She seated herself on the st.u.r.dy cus.h.i.+oned chair he offered her and considered which question to ask first. Grimshaw had become an annoyance. She had the distinct impression that she could get far more cooperation from the Inces if he were gone.
”I wish to interview Mabel Hussey tonight,” she said, turning her head until she could fix Grimshaw with a commanding stare. ”Go you, good Master Grimshaw, and fetch her to the inn in Withy Grove.”
Grimshaw hesitated. Susanna suspected that he was regretting that he'd ever revealed Mabel's presence in Manchester. Before he could make any excuse, Susanna caught Mark's eye.
”See him out, Mark.” She gave a peremptory wave of one hand, wryly aware that the gesture was reminiscent of Effie Denholm. Then she turned her back on them both, a.s.suming she would be obeyed.
Ince growled, his gaze flicking past Susanna to the departing men. She knew the minute that Grimshaw looked back. ”I warn you, Ince. You will be a.s.sessed a heavy fine if you do not clean up that dungheap in the street.” His parting shot delivered, Grimshaw left. Susanna heard the street door close behind him with a gentle thump.
Cautiously, Edith Ince and her husband relaxed, though neither was willing to sit down in the presence of a gentlewoman. Susanna had time to study the house-room more closely and found further marks of prosperity there. The Inces had two throne chairs, three chests, five bra.s.s candlesticks and one of pewter, and a great deal more pewter displayed upon a standing cupboard. Since it was close to the supper hour, dark brown bread, meat and onions had already been set out on a round table.
”What would you know?” Ince asked.
Susanna addressed her question to his wife. ”Will you tell me about the night Sir George died? I know the memories must be painful for you, but it is important that I hear the story in your own words.”
Edith Ince looked at her husband. Only after Oliver nodded his permission did she finally pull up a stool to sit upon and proceed to tell a tale that was much like the one Susanna had already heard from Effie Denholm. She did not once meet Susanna's eyes.
”So, you alone of all the servants remained at Appleton manor and Sir George made unwanted advances and you ran away?”
Edith nodded.
”Did you see him fall?”
”Nay.”
”Hear a crash?”
”Nay.”
”Then you have no certain knowledge of when he fell or why?”
”I were too afeared he'd catch me if I stopped running. I came all the way here to Manchester that night, I did.”
”And it wasn't until the next day that you heard he was dead?”
Edith nodded.
”Did anyone question you about how it had happened?”
”Nay.”
”I was told that John Bexwith knew you stayed behind at the manor. Did he never trouble you about it?”
”Nay.”
”And you never came forward to tell the authorities what you knew?”
”I knew naught.” For the first time, Edith looked directly at Susanna, alarm in her eyes.
Had there been a coroner's inquest? Susanna wondered. If Sir George's death was clearly an accident, she thought not.
”To speak out was to risk being blamed.” Ince spoke quietly, and his point was all the more forceful for that. ”Sir George tripped over his own feet and tumbled down the stair, and I'll be bound 'twas no great loss.”
Oliver Ince still radiated anger. Suppressing it had colored his cheeks to a fiery red, and his hands were so tightly clenched that his knuckles showed dead white.