Chapter Ten
JENNIFER THE MAID was Mrs. Attleby. She was married to another servant in the Beaumont household, one of the senior grooms. Though the lady of the house, Mrs. Beaumont, was close enough to the maid to call her by her given name, it was proper for Jane to address her by her surname.
Mrs. Attleby was a stout woman in her late thirties, a bit round in the middle, her dark hair streaked with one line of gray. She had it pulled back in a tidy knot at the back of her head, and she surveyed the two of them with an undisguised air of disapproval, which made Jane feel uncomfortable.
“My mistress is quite needy at this time,” said Mrs. Attleby. “I am fetching the little one back and forth from the wet nurse several times a day, until Mrs. Beaumont is well enough to go and see him herself. I haven’t much time, I must tell you.”
Byron said nothing, looking to Jane.
She had, of course, had no ideas for what to say on the ride back to Mr. Beaumont’s house, and now found herself entirely tongue tied.
She shifted on her feet. “We were sort of wondering if your mistress had ever mentioned Miss Anne Seward to you,” she came out with, and immediately realized it was the wrong thing to say, because if Mrs. Attleby had carried out the murder, she would lie about it.
At the least, though, they could take note of Mrs. Attleby’s reaction to the name.
“Well, no,” said Mrs. Attleby, “and I am not going to tell her about what befell that poor woman, not in my mistress’s current state!
She does not need to hear about calamities and tragedies when she has just brought life into the world.
” She eyed Lord Byron. “I do find it odd that you are part of this questioning, seeing as everyone knows that you were somehow connected to it all.”
“Everyone knows that, hmm?” said Byron.
“Oh, certainly,” said Mrs. Attleby. “You don’t suppose that you run out of town with every man coming after you without people hearing about it, do you?”
Byron cleared his throat. “No, I rather expected not, but it was only that Beaumont seemingly hadn’t heard of it—”
“The servants are all whispering about it, make no mistake of that,” said Mrs. Attleby.
“Now, in this household, our housekeeper, Mrs. Dinsmore, she won’t stand for idle gossip, so you can be assured that we are keeping decorum under this roof.
But I could not say the same for the other households in the surrounding area.
And the comings and goings from the master’s chambers at all hours, my lord, you are brazen. ”
Byron drew himself up. “You are quite free with your censure, Jennifer, are you not?”
“I shall thank you to address me as Mrs. Attleby,” said Mrs. Attleby.
“My apologies, madam,” said Byron, looking chagrined.
“Is there anything else?” said Mrs. Attleby.
“What exactly are people saying?” said Byron.
“Well, no one knows why you would be leaving the master’s chamber in the wee hours of the morning, most especially since both your valets had helped you both to bed at midnight and—”
“I mean,” Byron interrupted smoothly, “about Miss Seward and how I am connected to it all, seeing as she died of accidentally ingesting too much laudanum.”
Jane turned to look at Byron, startled. Coming out of Mr. Beaumont’s bedchamber in the early morning? Did that mean…?
“Is that the way of it?” said Mrs. Attleby in a tone that indicated she didn’t believe that was how Miss Seward had died.
“For what I had heard was that the two of you had been going about and asking all manner of questions about her death, making veiled accusations of Mr. Hardy, as if that man would have harmed a hair on that poor woman’s head.
Why, what is he to do with himself now? He built his entire life around Miss Seward. He was devoted to her.”
Jane had to admit that Mr. Hardy was now out of a job and likely a place to live. The tavern would pass on to Miss Seward’s cousin now.
Oh, she was very, very stupid, was she not? She let out a frustrated breath. To only think of this now? Why, it was all so very obvious.
Mrs. Attleby was still talking. “And seeing as you’re putting questions to me as well, I can only assume you still think she was murdered and you’re trying to find out who did it. Is that not why you are questioning me?”
“Well, yes,” said Byron. “But are people saying that I did it? That’s what I’m wondering. Because they did try to hang me.”
“It does seem that, if you had done it, you would like to blame it on someone else,” said Mrs. Attleby.
“Right,” muttered Byron, blowing out a huff of air. “That’s unfortunate. People are always whispering something or other about me, though, I find.”
“I would trust that the master has his wits about him and would not welcome a true fiend under our roof,” said Mrs. Attleby. “However, I worry that he is under your wicked influence.”
“Right,” muttered Byron again, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose you would think that.”
“At any rate, I am deeply sorry to cut this short, but I have a number of duties I need to see to. I simply must be on my way,” said Mrs. Attleby. “If there’s nothing else?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on her heel and hurried off into the house.
Byron watched her go, a pained expression on his face. “The country, it’s always so… backward.”
“I had a thought,” said Jane. “It’s so obvious, really, I cannot believe I didn’t think of it before.
So, I don’t know if you’re aware, but when Mr. Seward, that is, Anne’s father, passed on, he had left no will and testament at all, at least not one that anyone could find.
In situations such as this, the typical thing is for all of a man’s property to pass to his closest living male relative, who is a nephew, Anne’s cousin.
His name is also Seward, of course, but I have never met him.
However, from all accounts, he arrived in town upon the death of his uncle and expected to take control of the tavern himself.
I understand he wanted to sell the building and all of its contents and pocket the money. ”
Byron turned back to Jane. “I only want you to know that whatever passed between Thomas and me is long finished, and that we were only boys experimenting, as boys do, and that—”
“Oh, stop with that,” said Jane, making a face. “I find I really don’t want to know anything about that.”
Byron considered for a moment, shrugged, and then flashed her a mischievous grin. “Very well, then.”
Jane composed herself. Well, there was one thing to say about having come by this bit of information, she supposed. It did tend to dampen any of that pesky infatuation she had been feeling. “Where was I?”
“You were saying that Miss Seward’s cousin murdered her,” said Byron.
“Well, I was coming around to that,” said Jane. “I hadn’t quite got there yet. But it does seem as if he would benefit if she were out of the picture. And it was a bit of a struggle for her to wrest the tavern away from him at all. That was how Mr. Hardy came into it.”
“Oh?” said Byron. “What did Mr. Hardy do?”
“I don’t know specifics,” said Jane. “But whatever he did, the younger Mr. Seward, the live one, left town afterward and entirely relinquished his claim on the place.”
“Fascinating,” said Byron. “Well, we’ll have to talk to him. Where does he live?”
“I don’t even know,” said Jane. “I suppose we must go back into town and make some more inquiries. But if it is very far away, I don’t see how I can accompany you there.”
“We could take a carriage, clearly,” said Byron.
“Well, a journey of that distance, just you and I alone, it wouldn’t be proper,” said Jane.
“Perhaps your sister would like to come along,” said Byron. “She seems to have a number of astute insights, just from that conversation we had with her this morning.”
“That might work,” said Jane, nodding. “All right. Well, to town, then?”
“To town,” said Byron, smiling at her.
WHEN THEY GOT to town, they found that Mr. Reginald Seward was in the tavern, standing over the body of his cousin.
At first, they didn’t know who he was, but he introduced himself to them both, asking if they’d come to pay their respects, and saying that the burial would be on the morrow, so it was good they’d come.
Byron, bold as always said, “Actually, we’ve come directly to speak to you, so it’s fortuitous that you’re here.”
“Truly?” said Mr. Seward. “I suppose it would make sense to seek me here, since I do now own this tavern. But I’m afraid I am too distraught to speak about anything in depth at the moment.
If you’re interested in purchasing the building, however, I would be amenable to speaking about that.
Could we set up an appointment, perhaps for tomorrow?
Oh, no, drat, I suppose that won’t work.
I shall be entirely occupied with the funeral tomorrow.
Perhaps we could make some time this afternoon, then? ”
Byron began speaking. “I don’t wish to purchase—”
“That would be acceptable,” interrupted Jane, giving him a sharp look. “How about around two o’clock? Here?”
“All right, then,” said Mr. Seward.
Jane dragged Byron out of the tavern.
“Why did you interrupt me?” said Byron, when they were out of earshot of Mr. Seward. “Now he thinks I want to buy this place. Really, what would I do with a tavern?” He peered up at it, as if thinking it over.
“I interrupted you because it occurs to me that we cannot go about accusing people of murder, not if we want them not to be horribly offended and on their guard. You have just been accused yourself, and you know that it tends to make a person defensive.”
“That is true,” said Byron, nodding. “But what are we going to ask him about, then?”
“I don’t know,” said Jane. “Perhaps if we pretend to be interested in buying the tavern, we can get him to reveal more than we could otherwise, however.”
“All right,” said Byron. “I suppose that might be the way to handle it.”
“You two,” came a voice.