Chapter 7 #2
“Lord Chilcombe was leaving when I came down for breakfast. I told him he ought to rest his mount and let the roads dry, but he insisted he would go.” She smiled over the rim of her cup. “I do like a man of action.”
Despite herself, Blythe felt a blush rising. If she wasn’t mistaken, Hermione was matchmaking.
She ignored the remark. “He was off to find the land steward at his cottage. He told me yesterday he meant to visit the local magistrate as well. So perhaps he’s out touring the estate, or off to visit Mr. Jarrow.”
“Might he have gone to your Bluebelle Lodge?” Hermione asked.
She considered the question. Mr. Stockwell the younger would have all in good order, but she’d like to be there herself to explain the presence of the two children, rather than leaving it to the Stockwells and the nursemaid, Hetty.
“I suppose anything is possible,” she said. “In which case, I must hie myself there this morning to make sure all is well when the lord of the manor pays a call. If you can tolerate the muddy roads, I would welcome your company.”
Hermione smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it, my dear.”
With directions from the head groom and his own patchy memory of the area, Graeme stopped briefly at Stockwell’s cottage, where he found that the steward had gone out to visit one of the tenants but would return midday.
The housekeeper promised to pass on the message to Stockwell that Graeme would meet with him that afternoon.
Then he found his way easily enough to Stonebridge Manor, the Jarrows’ estate a short distance from Risley Manor. He met Mr. Edward Jarrow on the lane returning from a morning ride.
He followed Jarrow to the stables, where both men left their mounts, and they entered the house through a side door. Jarrow led him up to the library.
“I am glad to meet you, my lord,” Jarrow said, when both men were seated.
Edward Jarrow was a man of about his own age, or perhaps a little older. Of medium height and average appearance, he had a friendly demeanor and a look of keen intelligence.
“I’m told you replaced your father as magistrate after he fell ill.”
Was he acquainted with the Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire, Wellington, who would have been the man who selected him?
Jarrow waved a hand. “Yes. Coroner as well. When I left the army, my brother was still here. I went north to help a friend who’d inherited an estate. Together we put things there in order.”
And now he was in Hampshire to put things in order here? The stables at Stonebridge Manor and this tidy room appeared up to snuff.
“Did you serve under Wellington?”
“In the Peninsula, and of course, at Waterloo. Not that I was on his staff, but I had occasion to meet him.”
“I served for a time on his staff in Paris after the peace.”
“You shall see him on a different footing when you take your seat in the Lords. Or have you done so already?”
“I just returned to England a few days ago.”
“From America, I read in the newssheets.”
“The far western shores of Canada. Did you fight there?”
“No, alas, or I might have been tempted to stay. Second son, you know? As it is, my brother’s wife inherited a large estate in Virginia, so he went to make his fortune there.”
“You have a fine property here.”
“Yes. I have improvements in mind, but I’ve had to go slowly.
My father and brother bumped heads quite a lot over the management, and I’m sure Father and I would have disagreed as well.
Father’s unfortunate illness has resolved that issue, and as there’s no entail, the property will be mine after he passes.
” He smiled ruefully. “That is perhaps too much information upon first meeting, my lord, though it is common enough knowledge among our neighbors and will answer your questions before you can find a diplomatic way to formulate them.”
Graeme couldn’t help laughing. He liked Jarrow’s straightforwardness. The tale had piqued his curiosity.
“Thank you, Jarrow. I confess, I know a bit about agricultural trade, but I have much to learn about estate management. I may need to call on your expertise. I’ve yet to meet with my land steward.”
“Stockwell is a good man. His son has done a fine job of managing Bluebelle Lodge as well.”
That was welcome news about Stockwell, confirming what Blythe had told him, and quite unexpected news about the son.
Before Graeme could comment, a tea tray arrived with an assortment of cakes and biscuits and Jarrow had the footman serve them.
Jarrow’s servants, the ones he’d seen so far, were a good thirty years younger than those serving at Risley Manor.
“How do you find Risley Manor?” Jarrow asked when the footman had departed.
“Old.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “I was just thinking to myself that neither Risley Manor nor Chilcombe House has more than one or two servants under the age of fifty.”
One could imagine why that could be true of the females, but the male servants also?
Jarrow frowned and studied the biscuits, suddenly quiet.
“Did you know the late Lord Chilcombe?” Graeme asked, hoping to draw out information.
“I was at school and then went off to the army before he took up residence at Risley Manor. I met him and Lady Chilcombe once at a local celebration after Toulouse when I was home on leave.”
“Ten years ago.”
“Yes. How is Lady Chilcombe?” Jarrow asked, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “I’d heard she’d left the area after the earl’s death to stay with friends.”
“Yes, for a time. But she’s been residing in London most recently. She accompanied me to Risley Manor along with an older friend of hers, Lady Hermione Gravelstone, a relation of Lord Loughton.”
Jarrow fixed him with a serious look. “So, you’ve called upon the local magistrate even before meeting with Stockwell.”
Graeme placed his saucer and cup on the table.
“Yes. You can imagine this is not just a social call, Jarrow. This matter of the supposedly lost will disinheriting Lady Chilcombe is of great concern. The matter of who holds title to Bluebelle Lodge as well. Lord Diddenton sought me out and suggested I speak to you.”
Jarrow sat taller and steepled his fingers. “To speak to me, or to my father?”
“He seems the sort of man who would know that your father is ill, and that you’ve replaced him. He told me he had you search Risley Manor for the will.”
“That was certainly my father he was speaking of. It was just before he fell ill. In any case, there is no way you may communicate with Father. He has not been able to speak since his stroke.”
“Did he leave notes about the matter? Is there a coroner’s report?”
“No inquest was held. Lord Chilcombe was ill with a lung fever in the days before he died. The physician’s reported cause of death was accepted.
” Jarrow pressed his lips together as if deciding whether to share something unsavory.
“There were, however, notes. Speculation that the earl may have been poisoned, and who might have done it.”
“Poisoned by whom?”
“Father’s list included the name of the earl’s, er, personal nurse, as well as the names of those involved with preparing and serving his food.
Others were his valet, though the man had unexpectedly left his service a month earlier, too long a time for a poisoning, Father thought.
His friend, Lord Vernon Falfield, had visited just before his demise. And… the list included Lady Chilcombe.”
His fingers tightened around his cup. “What do you think, Jarrow? Your honest opinion.”
Jarrow gave him a long look. “Every human life has value, and murder is a fearsome crime. Yet the punishment is fearsome as well. Ultimately, Father decided to not drag the name of the neighborhood’s titled family through the mud of an inquest.”
“But I ask again, what do you think?”
Jarrow frowned. “The late earl is said to have led a dissipated life, and he was, by all accounts, at the end quite ill with fever. What poison would cause that? Or, if he died from an excess of laudanum, who’s to say he hadn’t dosed himself accidentally?
” He shook his head. “The most likely suspect with opportunity would be the nurse. But did she have a motive? She was not remembered in the earl’s will, neither the one signed at the time of the earl’s marriage, nor the new one Diddenton claims exists, and the earl’s death ended her position. She left the day after for London.”
“Before being questioned?”
“Father spoke to her about the earl’s death. Not about the alleged new will though.”
“Diddenton told me there were servants who knew the new will had been signed. The nurse ought to be interviewed about it. Do you have her address in London?”
“No. To that end, I’ve made written inquiries with the usual agencies. With Father’s illness and estate matters, I’ve had to delay a trip to London to search for her. Lunetta Casale. I imagine she wasn’t someone the earl would have found at a regular hiring agency.”
In other words, he would have to visit the brothels. Morley could take on that task. He would write to him immediately.
“If her testimony supports Diddenton’s claim,” Graeme said, “Diddenton will be searching for her as well.”
“I’ve wondered about that. I’ve wondered whether Diddenton’s son, Lord Vernon, might know her whereabouts. By all accounts, he was a regular visitor to Risley Manor.”
“Did your father talk to him?”
“Only briefly when he paid a call. The marquess purchased Wickworth Hall some years ago and the son was staying there.”
“Wickworth Hall?” He vaguely remembered the property from his childhood visits. “Near Bluebelle Lodge?”
“Yes. The estates march alongside each other. You didn’t know?”
Graeme shook his head. “Convenient for him.”
Jarrow eyed him a moment and then went on, “Father spoke to the staff at Risley Manor and searched the house for poisons. None were found. Three of the old servants—including the disappearing valet—had small bequests in the will. The old will, that is. The new one leaves them nothing. But there was no reason to believe the housekeeper, butler, or missing valet poisoned him.”
“And Lady Chilcombe?”
“Father spoke to her that day. She came over from Bluebelle Lodge before the earl passed away but she was never alone with him. In the end, he could not find evidence to accuse her.” He leaned forward.
“Certainly, Lady Chilcombe had motive under the terms of the will signed at the time of her marriage. But this business of a new will... Diddenton has written speculating that Lady Chilcombe stole both signed copies of the new will, and might have had something to do with Sir Morris Pierpont’s death as well as her husband’s, so that she could thwart the new will’s provision to cede Bluebelle Lodge to Diddenton. ”
“Preposterous.” Graeme rose and stalked to the mantel, staring into the empty hearth, but seeing the fear in Blythe’s eyes. I am not a murderer.
“That is my sentiment as well, Chilcombe.” Jarrow stood and handed him a brandy.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Graeme said. “How did Pierpont die?”
“He overturned his phaeton in bad weather after leaving Risley Manor and smashed his head on a rock. Supposedly, he was carrying the new will, but it was never found among his belongings. Lady Chilcombe had visited her husband just as Sir Morris was leaving and then she returned to Bluebelle Lodge where she was residing.”
“Lady Chilcombe is no murderer.”
“Diddenton is pressing me. I should like to speak to her. Not to accuse her but to better grasp the circumstances.”
Graeme bit back an oath. Hadn’t she been through enough?
Still… she was trying to find her way back into society, and she would have to sway opinion to her side in the matter of the will so she could hold on to her inheritance. Would cooperation be the right path?
“I understand that she has only a brother to support her, and he’s away in the army.”
“As it happens, Lady Chilcombe’s brother has just arrived home on leave. He is staying at Chilcombe House.”
“Then perhaps he may be present when I—”
“I will support Lady Chilcombe during any inquiry.”
Jarrow gave him a long look and nodded.
Let him think what he wanted. Blythe was his to look after.
“I’m not convinced that my cousin was in a state of mind to give due thought to the property matter, or in fact, to understand the contents of a new will.
I shall need to see evidence before part of the estate is handed over willy-nilly in breach of Lady Chilcombe’s marriage contract. ”
Jarrow raised his glass. “Bravo. I shall help you in any way possible to discover the truth.”
“Edward.” A portly matron filled the doorway and advanced into the room. “You have a visitor, I see.”
Graeme bowed while Jarrow introduced his mother. The glint in her squinty gaze and her obsequious smile told Graeme she already knew who he was.