Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate gravitated toward the outer edges of Villa De Lacey’s grounds, where thick, burly trees surrounded the property.
This was the area Bridget had ventured alone at night.
But why? Was it because he’d refused to tell her about what had been going on at the lake?
Had she wanted to see what the housemaids were doing at night?
It was all his fault. He’d dismissed her questions and interrupted her interview with Abigail and Sarah.
And he’d done it all for selfish reasons.
He’d kept the information from her because he hadn’t wanted her to know what a rotten rake he’d been in London and what rotten rakes his friends still were.
Because of his cowardice, she’d ventured into the dark thicket by herself, and now she lay abed in a grave condition.
“Are ye searching for this, sir?”
Nate looked up to see Thomas coming toward him and holding up a lantern. “It’s the one Miss De Lacey dropped. I was on me way to bring it inside.”
“Thank you, Thomas. Would you show me where you found it? I’d like to see where she fell.”
“Aye,” the gardener said. “It’s just down here. Follow me.”
They walked several feet deeper into the thicket until Thomas stopped in front of an enormous tree with bulging roots that erupted from the ground.
“I found the lantern next to this one. She left behind some blood behind, poor lass.”
Nate kneeled down to see a dried blood smear on the gnarled bark. He turned and looked back at the path she’d walked from the house. “I wonder what she was running from,” he said, more to himself than Thomas.
“Running, sir?” Thomas said.
“Yes, the blood and the severity of her injury suggest that she fell with some force. She likely tripped over the first root, flew forward, and hit her head on this one.” He pointed to the blood-stained root.
“I can’t think who’d be chasing her.” Thomas frowned at the spot.
“Maybe something frightened her. An animal?”
“I dunna think so. All we have around here are squirrels, rabbits, birds, an’ maybe a snake or two. But Miss De Lacey has lived here all her life. She’s not easily spooked by the wildlife.”
Nate chewed the inside of his lip, pondering. What if it weren’t an animal that had scared Bridget? What if it were a person? And what if that person pushed her and meant to kill her—just as he or she had pushed Madam Bouffant down the stairs?
Nate scoured the surrounding area, looking for clues—something that would tell him whether or not another person had been present at the scene.
“Did you see any footprints when you found Miss De Lacey this morning?”
“Footprints? No, I weren’t looking for any footprints. But I suppose some of hers were in the mud”—he glanced down—“and some of mine and yours now too.”
Nate peered at the muddle of footprints and nodded.
Then something caught his eye. A bit of gold sticking out of the earth.
He stepped forward and bent to retrieve it.
“A button!” he said, pulling the round bit of metal out of the ground and wiping the dirt from it with his gloved hand.
It didn’t belong to Bridget. She’d been wearing all black as usual when she’d been found, and she’d worn no coat, which had contributed to her body half freezing.
“Were you wearing a coat this morning when you happened upon Miss De Lacey? Is this by chance your button?”
“I was wearing the same coat I am now,” he pointed to his brown overcoat. “And I don’t see no buttons missing from it. An’ that button’s too posh to be mine.”
Nate looked from the gardener’s plain brass buttons to the metal one in his hand, which sported an intricate floral design.
True, the button may have been lying there for some time.
Perhaps, it had been there for months, before Bridget started to wear black.
Although, it did not look tarnished enough for that.
Nate slipped the button into his pocket. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for the button’s presence at the crime scene. Or, it could belong to someone who had cause to push or frighten Bridget. Either way, he intended to find out if any of the guests were missing a coat button.
*
Several days later, Bridget felt well enough to get out of bed, but she was met with fierce resistance from Aunt Marianne. “You’re not yet strong enough! The doctor said you should not overexert yourself.”
“I’m fine, Aunt. I promise. If I stay in this bed one minute longer, I shall go mad.” Bridget inspected the damage to her head in her handheld-looking glass. A nasty purple and yellow bruise surrounded the red gash in the center of her forehead.
“It looks horrible,” she groaned.
“That’s why you need to stay in bed,” Aunt Marianne said.
“I need fresh air,” Bridget insisted. She wanted to return to where she fell to see if it would trigger any memories.
She couldn’t recollect a thing about that night or what had happened.
All she remembered was talking to Nate in the library; everything following that was blank.
“And I need to speak with Mr. Squires. How has he been coping while I’ve been in bed and you and Eliza have been spending all your time hovering over me? ”
“He’s managed quite well, I think. He seems to have tamed Abigail and Sarah into compliance.”
Abigail and Sarah. The names resonated in her mind. I recall hearing something about them—something important—but what was it? She tried to remember but her brain refused to cooperate.
“Has Mr. Squires asked to see me?” Bridget said.
Aunt Marianne hesitated.
“Aunt?”
“Several times a day. He’s not stopped badgering me with questions,” Aunt Marianne said with a measure of irritation, and Bridget could not help but smile.
She was pleased to hear that Nate cared.
“But I told him you’re not ready to resume your duties as hostess yet.
And he agreed with me. He thinks you need your rest.”
“Oh, Aunt!”
“These people don’t deserve you, Bridget. Look what they’ve done to you.” Aunt Marianne’s eyes had gone from stern to watery, and Bridget saw what her aunt had suffered the past few days. She got out of bed and embraced her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “All will be well. I promise.”
*
Bridget felt a rush of energy flood through her when she saw Nate standing at the foot of the garden, waiting for her. He smiled as she approached him with Bijou at her heels, and her heart skipped. Something about Nate made her feel alive.
“How are you feeling?” Nate’s dark-blue eyes reflected his worry as he looked at her bandaged head.
“Foolish.” She laughed and gently touched her wrapped wound. “I’m embarrassed to have caused so much trouble for everyone. I should not have ventured out in the dark by myself. I cannot think why I did it.”
Nate ran a hand over his square jaw, which Bridget noticed had grown stubble. “I’m afraid it might have been my fault. I’m sorry if I upset you in the library.”
“Upset me? What did you say? I recall being in the library with you, but I don’t remember our conversation.”
Nate looked relieved. “Never mind then,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that you get well.”
“But it does matter. I can’t remember a thing, and I’d like to know what prompted me to venture into the thicket alone at night and without my coat.”
Nate blew out his breath. “I imagine you were doing some sleuthing.”
“Mayhap. That memory remains out of my reach—I fear it has something to do with Abigail and Sarah. They’re both well, I take it?”
He nodded. “Yes, I chatted with them, and their attitude has greatly improved.”
“All is right, then,” Bridget said, although she felt there was something more. Her brow creased in thought, and she immediately felt the tight pain in her forehead.
“What is it?” Nate reached for her. “Do you need to go inside and lie down?”
“No, I’m fine.” Bridget raised her hand. “I was just trying to recall the events of that night.”
“What do you remember about your fall?” Nate asked. “Were you running from something or someone?”
Bridget shrugged. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Do you think someone could have been following you? And that’s why you ran?”
A cold chill traveled down Bridget’s spine. “I don’t know. Why? Do you think someone was following me?”
Nate fished the button out of his pocket and gave it to Bridget. “I found this on the ground near to where you fell. Do you recognize it?”
Bridget turned the button between her fingers. “No, it’s not mine. At least I don’t think belongs to me.” She frowned. “I suppose whom it belongs to depends on how long it was laying out there.”
“It looks shiny and new, so I don’t believe it’s been lying in the dirt for months. If someone was following you that night, then I believe it may belong to that person. And it may be the same person who pushed Madam Bouffant down the stairs.”
“Are you saying that someone wanted me dead?”
“It’s just a theory. Is there anyone you can think of who might want to harm you?”
“Me? What threat could I pose to anyone?”
“Perhaps someone believes you know something. Maybe you saw or heard something you should not have.”
“Dodsworth,” Bridget said. “I told you what I overheard between him and Lydia.”
“I thought you weren’t seen.”
“I didn’t think I was, but perhaps I was wrong.”
Nate dropped his gaze, and Bridget knew he couldn’t accept the idea that his friend was guilty of anything.
“I’ll speak with him and see what I can find out. Anyone else?” he asked looking up at her.
“There’s always Adelia Eamont and her mother.”
“True. Those two have had some very strange behavior of late. I suppose we’ll have to spend the next few days staring at their buttons.”
Bridget laughed. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my time.”
Nate took her hand in his and lightly traced his thumb over her bandaged forehead with his other. “I meant it,” he said. “I couldn’t bear it if something were to—”
Just then, Bridget spotted Lady Luxton, accompanied by another woman and a child, walking toward them. She watched the little boy toddle between the two women. To whom did he belong?
“Mr. Squires,” Lady Luxton called as she approached them. “You remember Henry, don’t you?”
Nate’s posture stiffened. “Yes, of course,” he said, looking uncomfortable, yet he did not take his eyes off the boy.
“Wonderful. Perhaps you will indulge us by helping him sail this paper boat on the lake? Unfortunately, his papa is not feeling well today, and he could not accompany us. Show him your boat, Henry.”
The child held up a paper boat, and Nate’s entire face seemed to smile. It was as though he knew and loved the child, Bridget thought.
Bijou, who’d been investigating a patch of grass, trotted toward them wagging his tail. When he reached the child, he jumped up, trying to snatch the boat. The little boy let out a frightened wail, and Nate scooped him up in his arms.
“Don’t worry, Henry. Bijou is a friendly pup. He only wants to play. Should we all go to the lake together and put your boat in the water?”
The child nodded repeatedly, and Nate beamed.
Bridget could not help but smile. It was obvious that Nate had affection for the child. But why was he so attached to the child of his former betrothed and the man she’d discarded him for?
“Miss De Lacey,” Lady Luxton said, acknowledging Bridget for the first time. “I heard about your accident. I do hope you are feeling better.”
“Yes, I am. Thank you for asking,” Bridget replied, genuinely surprised by the woman’s kind gesture.
“Good.” She gave Bridget a tight smile. “I was beginning to think there were no servants left at Villa De Lacey.”
Bridget’s smile faded. She glanced at Nate, but he was focused on the child and apparently hadn’t heard Lady Luxton’s slight.
Bijou raced a circle around Nate and Henry, yapping and jumping up. The child squealed and Lady Luxton pursed her lips in disapproval.
Bridget scooped the terrier up in her arms. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said.
Nate gave her a brief look as if to say, we’ll resume our conversation later, before turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.
“Boat!” Henry cried.
Nate laughed. “Shall we go put it on the water and see if it will sail?”
Bridget watched as Nate turned and headed to the lake with Henry in his arms and Lady Luxton by his side. She would think they were a happy family if she didn’t know better. Just then, Lady Luxton turned and gave her a look that could freeze Lake Windermere.