Chapter Fifteen #3
“After my father died, Mr. Collins reappeared in my life. I were shocked to learn that he’d been working for my father for three years—shocked he’d done it in the hope of finding me.
It were a grand gesture. I can’t say I felt nothing for him because that wouldn’t be true.
Maybe I encouraged him—I don’t know. I felt responsible for his troubles—he’d lost his job as a teacher and bound himself to my father because of me.
So after he came to Westmorland, I started meeting with him in secret because… .” She dropped her gaze.
“Because Edmund is his son,” Bridget said.
Alice looked up, her eyes troubled. “How did you know? Did Mr. Collins say something?”
“No. He kept your secret. But Mr. Squires guessed, and Mr. Collins didn’t deny it.” Bridget paused. “That’s the reason your papa forced you to marry Mr. Groby, isn’t it? Because he knew you were with child.”
Alice gazed at her son, who was clapping his hands as Jane threw a stick for Bijou to fetch.
“I felt beholden to try and find a way for Mr. Collins to be in Edmund’s life.
I hoped he could be a family friend—a sort of uncle to Edmund.
But John didn’t like Collins. I think he felt there was summat more between us.
He questioned me about why Collins had come to Westmorland after leaving my father’s farm. He knew something weren’t right.”
“And what about George? Was Mr. Collins jealous of him at all?”
“He were leery of him. He said he couldn’t be trusted, and like John, he wanted me to stop my reading lessons.
He said he would teach me himself. But I was quite happy with George’s lessons, and I didn’t like being told what to do by Douglas or my husband.
” Her face reddened. “I have a stubbornness about me. It’s in my nature.
But as it happens, I should have listened to them because they were right. George wasn’t a good man.”
“What do you mean?” Bridget said as a prickle of apprehension swept over her.
“He did just what my husband said he would do—he demanded another form of payment for his lessons. And when I refused, he became nasty. I believe if he weren’t afraid of my John, he’d have forced himself upon me.”
Bridget stifled her gasp with her hand. George? It couldn’t be true. He’d always been a perfect gentleman when in her company. She couldn’t even imagine…
Alice seemed to understand her inability to comprehend her revelation. “I don’t expect you knew that side of him. He wouldn’t have taken such liberties with you. He enjoyed the advantages of being your friend too much. He wouldn’t have wanted to spoil that.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Bridget said.
Alice smoothed her daughter’s curls. “That’s because George hid his darkness well.”
Bridget swallowed. Yet another person in her life who’d deceived her. How many more would there be? “Did you tell Mr. Groby about this?”
“Of course not,” Alice said. “I knew it would send him into a rage. I haven’t told anyone, and you mustn’t either.
” She reached out and grabbed Bridget’s wrist. “Please! It won’t help John if you tell him.
He will only say he wishes he had killed George.
” Alice’s daughter began to squirm on her lap, and she set the child down next to her.
“So you didn’t mention this to Mr. Collins either?”
“There was no need. I could manage George Otis on my own. I did warn George that if he ever bothered me again, I’d let the whole town know what a scoundrel he was—including my husband.
He apologized and begged me not to say anything.
He said he couldn’t help himself—that he’d fallen in love with me.
I didn’t believe him, but I wanted no trouble, so I promised not to say anything, as long as he kept away. ”
“Then you stopped the lessons? And Mr. Groby thought you were finally complying with his request?”
She shook her head. “I pretended to keep on with my reading lessons, so John wouldn’t think anything was amiss.
Also, I wanted to keep meeting Mr. Collins as usual.
That was stupid of me. But I didn’t have the heart to stop.
He’d done so much for me. And he is Edmund’s father, after all.
In the end, I didn’t have to keep it up for long because a few days after the problem with George, he were dead. ”
Bridget sighed and glanced down at Alice’s daughter. The little girl gave her a toothy grin. “And you have no idea who could have killed him?”
Alice pressed her lips together. “I…” she began. Then she shook her head.
“Alice,” Bridget said gently, “if you know something, you’d best say it. I hear Mr. Groby will be sent to York soon for his trial, and the magistrate is likely to find him guilty.”
A tear rolled down Alice’s cheek. “I know.”
“But it’s even worse than that,” Bridget said, hating herself for having to tell Alice what would happen to her husband. “There’s talk that he’ll be hanged and gibbeted in Westmorland.”
The woman sucked in her breath so forcefully that Charlotte began to cry. Alice pulled the child onto her lap and sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand.
Bridget felt a lump rise in her throat and tears sting her eyes. What was happening to Westmorland? Once again, darkness had descended on her tranquil and idyllic home.
“There is one thing.” Alice sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Whenever I met with George near his cottage, I felt as if someone were watching us.”
Bridget went cold. Hadn’t Nate said that Mr. Groby had had his wife followed? And didn’t that mean that he would have known everything? Perhaps she’d been incorrect from the beginning.
Mayhap Mr. Groby did kill George.