Part 30 (2/2)

”Aye, it must have been bad for Mr. Bennet. They say he held his brother's body as if he'd never let go. But that Lord Granville didn't turn a hair. Hardly looked at his dead son.”

”Lord Granville must be mad.” George closed her eyes and shuddered.

”There's some who think so, indeed.” Tiggle frowned down at her. ”Gracious, my lady, you're that pale. What you need is a nice cup of hot tea.” She bustled to the door.

George lay back down, closing her eyes. Maybe if she was very still for a bit . . .

Tiggle returned, her heels tapping across the wood floor. ”I thought that pale green gown would look very good when Mr. Pye comes to call-”

”I'll wear the brown print.”

”But my lady.” Tiggle sounded scandalized. ”It's simply not the thing to see a gentleman in. At least not a special gentleman. Why, after last night-”

George swallowed and tried to summon the strength to battle her lady's maid. ”I won't be seeing Mr. Pye again. We'll be leaving for London today.”

Tiggle drew in a sharp breath.

George's stomach gurgled. She braced herself.

”My lady,” Tiggle said, ”just about every servant in this house knows who came to call last night in your private rooms. And then the brave thing he did at Granville House! The younger maids have been sighing over Mr. Pye all morning, and the only reason the older maids aren't sighing as well is the look in Mr. Greaves's eyes. You cannot leave Mr. Pye.”

The whole world was against her. George felt a wave of self-pity and nausea well up in her. ”I'm not leaving him. We've simply come to an agreement that we're better off apart.”

”Nonsense. I'm sorry, my lady. I don't usually speak my mind,” Tiggle said with apparent sincerity, ”but that man loves you. He's a good man, Harry Pye is. He'll make a good husband. And you're carrying his babe.”

”I'm well aware of that.” George belched ominously. ”Mr. Pye may love me, but he doesn't want to. Please, Tiggle. I can't remain, hoping and clinging to him.” She opened her eyes wide in desperation. ”Can't you see? He'll marry me out of honor or pity and he'll spend the rest of his life hating me. I must go.”

”Oh, my lady-”

”Please.”

”Very well,” Tiggle said. ”I think you're making a mistake, but I'll pack to leave if that's what you want.”

”Yes, it's what I want,” George said.

And promptly threw up into the chamber pot.

THE SUN HAD LIT THE morning sky for more than an hour by the time Harry and Bennet rode up to the small, dilapidated cottage. They'd spent most of the night waiting at the c.o.c.k and Worm, even though Harry had suspected it was useless within the first half hour.

They'd first made sure of Will's safety by taking the sleepy boy to Mistress Humboldt's cottage. Despite the unholy hour, that lady had been glad to have the boy and they'd left him contentedly stuffing his face with m.u.f.fins. Then they'd ridden to the c.o.c.k and Worm.d.i.c.k Crumb and his sister both lived above the tavern in low-ceilinged rooms that were surprisingly tidy. Searching the rooms, his head grazing the lintels, Harry had thought that d.i.c.k must have to continuously stoop in his own house. Of course, neither d.i.c.k nor Janie had been there; in fact, the tavern had never opened that night, much to the disgust of several yokels hanging about the door. d.i.c.k and Janie had so few possessions, it was hard to tell if anything had been removed from the rooms. But Harry didn't think they'd taken anything. That was odd. Surely if d.i.c.k had decided to run with his sister, he would have taken at least Janie's things? But her few clothes-an extra dress, some chemises, and a pathetic pair of stockings riddled with holes-still hung from the pegs in her room beneath the eaves. There was even a small leather pouch with several silver coins hidden under d.i.c.k's thin mattress.

So, thinking the tavern keeper would come back for the money if nothing else, Harry and Bennet had lurked in the dark tavern. They had coughed and spit up black phlegm once or twice, but they hadn't talked. Thomas's death had stunned Bennet. He stared into s.p.a.ce, his eyes far, far away. And Harry had considered his future life with a wife and a child and a whole new way of living.

As the dawn gave light to the dim room and it became evident that d.i.c.k wasn't going to show up, Harry remembered the cottage. The Crumb cottage, the hovel where d.i.c.k and his sister had been raised, had long ago fallen into ruin. But maybe d.i.c.k might use it as temporary shelter? Far more likely he was in the next county by now, but they might as well check it.

Now as they neared, the cottage looked deserted. The thatched roof had mostly fallen in, and one wall was crumbled, leaving the chimney pointing nakedly to the sky. They dismounted and Harry's boots sank into mud, no doubt the reason for the cottage having been abandoned. The river behind the tiny house spread over her banks here, making a marshy area. Every spring the cottage probably flooded. It was an unhealthy place to live. Harry couldn't think why anyone would build here.

”Don't know if we should even try the door,” he said.

They looked at the door, tilting inward under a leaning lintel.

”Let's check around back,” Bennet said.

Harry walked as quietly as he could in the mud, but his boots made a squis.h.i.+ng sound as the muck sucked at them with each step. If d.i.c.k was here, he was already warned.

He was in the lead when he rounded the corner and stopped short. Plants as tall as a man grew in the boggy ground behind the cottage. They had delicate, branching fronds, and some still bore flat seed heads.

Water hemlock.

”Jesus,” Bennet breathed. He'd come around Harry, but it wasn't the plants he looked at.

Harry followed the direction of his gaze and saw that the entire back wall of the cottage was gone. From one of the remaining rafters a rope was tied and a pathetic bundle dangled at its end.

Janie Crumb had hung herself.

Chapter Nineteen.

”She didn't know what she was doing.” d.i.c.k Crumb sat with his back against the decayed stone of the cottage. He still wore his stained tavern ap.r.o.n, and one hand clutched a crumpled handkerchief.

Harry looked at Janie's body, swaying only feet away from where her brother sat. Her neck was grotesquely elongated, and her blackened tongue protruded from swollen lips.Nothing could be done for Janie Crumb now.

”She was never right, poor la.s.s, not after what he did to her,” d.i.c.k continued.

How long had he been sitting there?

”She used to slip away at night. Wander the fields. Maybe do other things I didn't want to know about.” d.i.c.k shook his head. ”It took me a while to realize she might be up to something else. And then Mistress Pollard died.” d.i.c.k looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelids reddened. ”She came in after they took you, Harry. She was wild, her hair all flying away. Said she hadn't done it. Hadn't killed Mistress Pollard like she killed the sheep. Was calling Lord Granville the devil and cursing him.”

The big man knit his brows like a puzzled little boy. ”She said Lord Granville killed old woman Pollard. Janie was crazy. Just plum crazy.”

”I know,” Harry said.

d.i.c.k Crumb nodded, as if relieved by his agreement. ”I didn't know what to do. She was my little sister, crazy or no.” He wiped the dome of his head with a shaking hand. ”The only family I had left. My baby sister. I loved her, Harry!”

The body on the rope seemed to twist in horrible reply.

”So I did nothing. And last night, when I heard that she'd fired the Granville stables, I came a running down here. The old place had always been her hidey-hole. Don't know what I would've done. Only I found her like this.” He threw his hands out to the corpse as if in prayer. ”Like this. I'm so sorry.” The big man began to cry, great heaving sobs that shook his shoulders.

Harry looked away. What could one do in the face of such overwhelming grief?

”You have no reason to apologize, Mr. Crumb,” Bennet spoke from beside Harry.

d.i.c.k raised his head. Snot shone beneath his nose.

”The blame lies with my father, not you.” Bennet nodded curtly and walked back around the cottage.

<script>