Chapter 10 #2
“Miss Sandiford was here this afternoon to deliver some ells of cloth to me. I invited her to rest and have lemonade. In my conversation about Miss Inglewood—who she seems to idolize—I told her how dangerous pennyroyal is. She did not seem to know that, and the knowledge prompted her to leave. I had Daniel follow her. Ultimately, she met with Miss Broadbank in what appeared to be secrecy.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that so few knew the dangers of the plant…
Daniel, see if you can find this gamekeeper’s cottage.
I have learned it is close to the southeast corner of the Inglewood property.
” James looked at Cecilia. “The gamekeeper kept chickens, and they tended to wander into the Inglewood garden. Inglewood complained; consequently, Mortlake built a new cottage for the gamekeeper on the other side of his estate.” He looked back up at Daniel.
“I doubt it will be directly off the road. Lady Branstoke wants to visit the cottage, so previous knowledge of its location would help.”
“Yes, sir, I can do that!” Daniel said brightly.
“You may go now. Be sure to let Mr. Coggins know you are going on an errand for us.”
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
James smiled, and Cecilia hid a slight chuckle behind her hand as the young man hurried to leave.
“Daniel was most fervent in his desire to do a good job,” Cecilia said as she studied the small piece of paper Daniel had given them at breakfast that morning. “He’s drawn a detailed map to the old cottage.”
“I commend his enthusiasm and effort,” James said.
“Will you allow him to assist in the future?” Cecilia asked, canting her head.
“Possibly; however, I am concerned he hasn’t the maturity for caution.”
Cecilia acknowledged his concern. “Still, if we are going to continue to be involved in inquiries, it would be beneficial to have others we may direct, much like Mr. Thornbridge was an asset.”
“He appears to be an even greater asset for my cousin, judging from the letters I’ve received,” James said.
“That is good to know. I’m happy for him.”
“Even if you couldn’t match him with Miss Rangaswamy?” James asked slyly.
Cecilia sighed. “Yes, but I’ll own the Earl of Soothcoor’s half-brother has been a surprisingly successful match.”
“Why do you say ‘surprisingly’? He matches her in liveliness.”
“True,” she conceded. “And she has steadied him in other ways.”
“Mr. Thornbridge will find his way,” James said, “just as we are finding ours to this gamekeeper’s cottage. According to Daniel’s map, after that big oak up ahead, there will be a faint trail to the left that we follow.”
“I’m glad I chose to wear one of my older dresses.
This wood is thick with vegetation. I’ll likely acquire burrs and seed pods on my hem,” she observed as they turned onto the path Daniel had drawn on the map.
The trees were thick and nearly hid the sky.
Cecilia closed her parasol. She did not need it in the shade wrought by the surrounding trees.
Together, they walked for another ten minutes before a stone cottage came into view.
Without trees above, sunlight streamed down on the little cottage, burnishing its stones to a warm hue.
Vines climbed the chimney and extended along the bottom edge of the roof, rooting under slate tiles green with moss and mildew.
One of the glass windowpanes on the front of the building was broken, and it looked like someone had fastened a piece of leather at the opening to keep the elements out.
The cottage had been built on an elevated area of land, and large, flat stones formed steps up to the front door.
“It looks in fairly good condition for being abandoned. I wonder how long ago the new gamekeeper’s cottage was built?” Cecilia said.
“This cottage appears snug and exceedingly well built,” James said. “A pity it was abandoned.” He pressed on the door latch. It was unlocked. He glanced at Cecilia, his brows raised in surprise.
“If this was their club, it stands to reason it would be unlocked,” Cecilia said as James pushed the door open.
The one-room cottage showed signs that the young women had tried to make the space more comfortable.
Mismatched drapes, probably retrieved from the Inglewood attic, hung at the windows.
A vase with dead flowers sat on the table pushed against the back wall under a window.
Wood chairs had small pillows on their seats.
A threadbare rug of Persian design covered the rough wood floor.
And on the wall opposite, an old, narrow bed had been enlivened with a colorful quilt and several mismatched pillows.
A kettle hung from a hook over the fireplace.
The cottage smelled of wood smoke and damp mold.
Cecilia crossed the room to the fireplace. She ran a gloved finger across the mantelpiece. “It is relatively clean,” she said, looking at her glove. “But I don’t feel anyone has come here since Miss Inglewood passed.” She pulled the armoire door open. A lone woman’s cloak hung on a peg.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” James asked as Cecilia pulled open the drawers at the base of the armoire.
“Yes. Miss Inglewood’s journal. Summer said she kept it here. Since it doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while, it might still be here.”
“At least not since immediately after her death,” James acknowledged. “While you look around here, I’ll find the old hen house and see if any missives remain in that location, and if there are, what they might tell us.”
Cecilia vaguely nodded, her eyes roaming the room, her mind considering where a journal might be hidden.
After poking in all the drawers and boxes, she approached the bed.
She stood with her hands on her hips as she considered the narrow bed.
She leaned over to pull up one corner of the mattress to see if the journal might be hidden beneath the bedding.
The light from the open cottage door sliced further under the bed when she picked up the bedding.
Her heart raced, and her smile grew broad.
“Found you,” she whispered gleefully, for through the knotted rope net that supported the mattress, she saw the edge of an open book stuck between the wall and the bedstead.
Cecilia started to pull the bed away from the wall when she heard voices outside.
She turned to look out the door. James and two young men—who looked amazingly alike—approached the cottage.
The Cathcart twins, she surmised. They were, indeed, strapping young men with curly blond hair.
As they got closer, Cecilia could see they were strikingly handsome, though younger than they had first appeared.
She doubted they had yet reached their majority.
She could see why Summer’s eyes sparkled when she talked of them—and why Miss Inglewood would play them off each other.
And she wondered why they were here. She stepped into the doorway to greet them.
“James, I know you went to the hen house to see what you could find in it. I find it hard to believe you found these gentlemen there. How did they fit?” she teased.
The two young men looked confused, but her husband laughed. “There wasn’t much to find. It is too small. I’m not surprised that only Miss Inglewood and Miss Rutledge used the structure. It is too small for even a decent hen house.
“My dear, allow me to make you known to Mr. Jebus and Mr. Josiah Cathcart—but don’t ask me which is which, for I’m afraid I don’t know. Gentlemen, this is my wife, Lady Branstoke.”
After one twin backhanded the other in his stomach, the twins bowed quickly.
“Pleased to meet you, my lady,” said the one who had backhanded the other. “I am Josiah, and this be Jebus.”
“The blacksmith’s sons,” Cecilia said for her own clarification.
“Yes, my lady,” bobbed Josiah.
“These gentlemen tell me they came here to see if they could find Miss Inglewood’s diary,” James told her with a pronounced drawl.
Cecilia raised her chin as she looked from one twin to the other. “Miss Inglewood has been deceased for a fortnight now. Why the sudden interest in her diary?”
Cecilia watched, fascinated, as blushes rose from their necks to suffuse their faces. James crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, listening with a slight smirk on his lips, one only Cecilia could recognize for what it was.
“We was chopping wood this morning, sayin’ as how it sure were sad that Miss Inglewood were gone.”
“Yes,” Jebus agreed, speaking for the first time while nodding vigorously.
“And Jebus remembered her scribbling away in her book. He wondered what she said about us.”
Jebus nodded.
“I said no one has said nothin’ about her book. I wondered if anyone had found it. Jebus said we should look for it.”
“Well, Jebus seems to have a great many ideas,” Cecilia said.
Josiah Cathcart nodded. “Very thoughtful is my brother, Jebus.”
Cecilia looked at Jebus. “Where would you suggest we look for the book?”
He pointed to the floor inside the cottage. Cecilia and James exchanged glances. Cecilia always knew James’ thoughts when they did so.
“Please come in and show us. Our thought is the book may give us clues as to why she died when she did.”
Jebus, followed by Josiah, came into the cabin. Without speaking, they went to either end of the rug on the floor and rolled it back. They carefully pulled up a board.
“I thought there might be a loose board, but I didn’t consider it would be so far under the rug,” Cecilia said quietly to James as they stepped closer to see what the twins did.
Jebus reached into the hole and pulled out a light-brown leather bag tied with what looked to be a drapery cord. He frowned as he shook it. He looked at his brother. “It’s not here,” he said, the most words Cecilia or James had yet heard him speak.
“May I?” Cecilia asked, reaching out for the bag. Jebus handed it to her, then reached down into the hole again. Cecilia saw him frown and sit back on his heels when he pulled out his hand, not finding anything else in the hiding place.
The bag was fairly light and soft. It crinkled when squeezed, releasing the scent of a kind of odd mint. She wrinkled her nose. It was not a scent she favored.
She loosened what looked like an old gold drapery cord holding it closed and opened it.
Her brow lifted slightly at the sight of the contents.
She passed it to James to look inside. She didn’t know for certain; however, she’d wager the bag held enough pennyroyal for a grand, murderous tea party. A shiver went down Cecilia’s spine.
Josiah stood up and looked in the bag. “Is that the stuff she wanted?”
“I believe so,” Cecilia said.
“Huh.” Josiah turned to look at his brother. “It’s no wonder that apothecary said he were runnin’ low and could only give us a small amount.”
“Which apothecary was that?” James asked.
“Thorne’s in Maidstone.”
“You and your brother tried to buy pennyroyal for Miss Inglewood?” James continued.
“Yeah. She begged us, ya see. But he didn’t have much left. We took what he had,” Josiah said as Jebus rose to his feet to stand beside him.
“Sold out,” Jebus added.
“Did either of you ask who else had purchased the plant?”
“Yes, sar,” Jebus said, surprising Cecilia. “He wouldn’t say.”
“As would be proper,” James said, nodding. “An ethical apothecary.”
Cecilia nodded. “Ethical, but disappointing for our purposes.”
James looked at Cecilia. “We may need to go to Maidstone,” he said solemnly.
“Have you any other ideas where Miss Inglewood may have hidden the book?” Cecilia asked.
“I have looked in all other places I could think of, including under the bed linens and under the bed.” For some reason, she couldn’t answer for herself, Cecilia did not want to reveal to the twins that she may have found the book.
She wanted James and her to review the book first before others.
She had a feeling that what Miss Inglewood wrote would not be complimentary to most of her associates.
“We’d best get back,” Josiah said to Jebus. “Pa will be lookin’ fer us.”
Jebus nodded.
“Sorry we didn’t find the book,” Josiah said to Cecilia and James.
“That is quite all right,” Cecilia told him. “You did lead us to something that is perhaps more interesting.”
They both nodded, then left.
Cecilia watched them walk down the path away from the cottage, then she shut the door.
“I presume you do know where the diary is?” James said to Cecilia. She smiled up at him.
“Help me move the bed away from the wall.”
As they pulled the bed away, they heard a thunk. Cecilia ran around to the back of the bed. “When I picked up the mattress to look under it, I thought I saw a book caught between the bed and the wall.” She bent over to reach down between the wall and the bed and pulled out a book.
She started to eagerly open it. James placed his hand over hers. “Not here,” he said. “I do not trust that others will not come.” He took the book from her and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “Let’s return home.”