Chapter 31
A Desperate Plea
“I had been grossly wrong, and must abide the consequences.”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
“Oh! There you are, Mrs. Rutherford,” said Mrs. Leigh as Rosalind walked into the common room at the Green Briar. “There’s a woman up in your parlor. …”
“Yes, I know,” Rosalind said. “I got the note she sent.”
“I hope I did right,” said Mrs. Leigh. “She didn’t look entirely … your sort, but she said she was looking for Mrs. Rutherford and she did say that she’d dined with you last night.”
“You did exactly right,” Rosalind assured her. “I’ll go up at once. Oh, she’s likely hungry. Is there anything on the fire?” Rosalind had frequently observed that a meal and a cup of tea could do more to convince a person to speak the truth than the most detailed questioning ever could.
“I’ll put something together,” said the landlady. “You go up now and see to your visitor.”
Rosalind obeyed.
The parlor door was closed when Rosalind reached it. She knocked softly to announce herself.
“It’s open,” came the reply.
Rosalind took a moment to compose herself, and pushed back the door.
Mrs. Lynn stood as Rosalind entered. She was, Rosalind saw at once, a very different person from the enchanting hostess who graced Sir Anthony’s table.
Her dress was drab. Her eyes were red, and had dark circles under them, but a bright snap remained in her gaze.
She was indeed tired, Rosalind thought, and she was knocked out of her place, but she was in no way defeated.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Mrs. Lynn said. “I had no right to ask, or expect it, so I am grateful.”
“I admit, I was surprised to hear from you.” Rosalind closed the door. The parlor had one horsehair sofa, and she took a seat there. “You know, I’m sure, about Sir Anthony?”
A muscle spasmed in Mrs. Lynn’s cheek. “Yes. May God rest him. You will not believe I mean that, Miss Thorne, but I do.”
Rosalind waited to see if she would say anything more, or ask any question, but Mrs. Lynn remained silent.
“Do you know about Admiral Walsingham as well?” asked Rosalind.
“As well?” This time, Mrs. Lynn’s brow furrowed. “What has happened to the admiral?”
“He was shot,” said Rosalind bluntly. “He’s dead.”
Mrs. Lynn froze, rigid as a statue. Fear, cold and bright, sparked in her eyes.
“Have they caught the one who did it?”
“No.”
Was that relief that relaxed her spine? Rosalind found she could not be sure.
“Well.” Mrs. Lynn smoothed her plain skirts.
Rosalind noted the speckles of mud around the hems. Wherever she had been since she left the Kinsdales, she had gone very much on foot.
“I am aware that circumstances have placed me in what might be termed a delicate position.” Her tone held a hint of her habitual levity, but Rosalind found herself unable to smile.
“Miss Thorne, I know you’ve helped other women accused of murder; I need you to help me.
Once I am in court, once the magistrates hear who I am—what I am—they will send me to the gallows without a second thought. ”
This was almost certainly true. The law, and those who upheld it, tended to believe that a woman who was capable of one transgression must be equally capable of them all.
“I do not ask you to find out who committed these crimes.” Mrs. Lynn’s tone was flat and cold, as if she feared to let any emotion at all take hold just now.
“That will take time I do not have. All I ask is that you find some way to convince the coroner that it could not have been me, because I swear to you that Sir Anthony was very much alive when I departed from the Kinsdales’ home, and I have not seen the admiral since he left us yesterday evening. ”
Rosalind waited. She kept her gaze locked on Mrs. Lynn, but Mrs. Lynn did not waiver, nor did she offer to fill the silence that stretched out between them.
A knock on the door broke that silence, and a moment later, Mrs. Leigh shouldered her way into the room.
The landlady carried a tray with a roasted fowl and crusty rolls.
One of the serving men followed with yet another tray, this one holding ham salad, a dish of stewed fruit, as well as the pot of tea that was necessary for any repast at whatever time it might be served.
Two boys came behind with dishes and glasses.
Mrs. Lynn directed them where to set all the things, and when they were finished, she beamed at Rosalind, glowered suspiciously at Mrs. Lynn, and urged the servers to hurry out and not lolligag.
She paused only long enough to admonish “Mrs. Rutherford” that she should ring if anything more was wanted.
“I hope I have not wasted too much of your credit with your landlady,” remarked Mrs. Lynn when the door closed.
“I’m sure she will recover herself. Please.” Rosalind indicated the freshly laid table. “Do help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Lynn wasted no time on polite deference.
She sat down on one of the rush-bottomed chairs and immediately helped herself to a substantial portion of everything.
Rosalind joined her, and took a roll and some ham salad, more to be polite than from hunger.
She did pour them both tea, and was glad to find it both hot and strong.
With all that the day had brought so far, she very much needed the comfort.
She let Mrs. Lynn eat in peace for a moment. Then, she said, “I will need some answers before I agree to help you.”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Lynn was clearly not happy about this, but she was just as clearly resigned to it. “What do you need to know?”
“What is your given name?” said Rosalind.
“Well, I cannot fault you for beginning at the beginning. Very well. I was born under the name Sylvia Caroline Wallace.”
“And who is Miss Sophia Smith?”
“Who did she tell you she was?” countered Mrs. Lynn.
“She said she was your natural daughter.”
Mrs. Lynn smiled softly. “Although I’m sure it will surprise you, Miss Thorne, she is who she says she is. Sophia Smith is my daughter by Mr. Lewis Smith. We were … together until he died, which was when I took up with Mr. Lynn. I was nineteen at the time,” she added.
Rosalind nodded. Those who lived by their wits were frequently forced to begin at a very early age, and women in such a life just as frequently had their children young.
What was surprising was that she had not only kept the child, but had clearly been able to raise her, even though it might have been in an irregular manner.
That spoke to not only wits, but determination.
“Tell me how you became acquainted with the Kinsdales,” she said.
Mrs. Lynn’s smile was weary, but this time it did reach her eyes. “You think you will catch me out, Miss Thorne, but I see your game. You’ve heard a story from Elizabeth. She’s told you we met over the most absurd circumstance involving a fraudulent horse sale and a pair of ruined gloves.”
Rosalind tipped her head to the side, silently acknowledging this was true.
“That was the story we agreed to,” said Mrs. Lynn. “The truth is a bit less flattering to us both, I’m afraid.”
Rosalind waited.
Mrs. Lynn helped herself to some additional salad. “You understand, I’m sure, Miss Thorne, that sometimes it is necessary to remove oneself from a locality for a while.”
“A change of scene and society is frequently beneficial,” said Rosalind, her tone carefully bland.
“Just so. Well, such a time had come to me, and after I left London by a somewhat circuitous route, I found myself in Cassell Village. I had no particular plan. I only wanted to rest quietly and recoop my energies. But during my stay, I heard some gossip about the Kinsdales, and their fading fortunes, and their horses.”
Rosalind waited.
“Well, I confess, it appeared this might present an opportunity for me. My fortunes, like my spirits, were in need of refreshment. Therefore, I became determined to make the Kinsdales’ acquaintance.
It is a small village, and a chance soon came my way.
I crossed paths with Miss Elizabeth Kinsdale while she was engaged in the thoroughly undignified occupation of begging a dealer in hay and feed to extend the family another week’s credit. ”
Rosalind nodded.
“A crowd had gathered, and it was evident the dealer would remain unmoved, and likewise it was evident that the situation was desperate, or the lady would be making her case in the public street.
“So, I joined in the argument, on her side, of course. With two women standing there pleading, the crowd began to turn against the feed merchant. Eventually, grudgingly, he was induced to grant Miss Kinsdale the credit she asked for.
“She was in tears as I walked her away, and was more than willing to accept a handkerchief and a sympathetic ear. I bought her tea—with what was very nearly the last of my own funds, may I add—and she poured her heart out to me, as one sometimes does to a stranger. I suggested to her there might be ways to help her family. She declared that her father would never listen to her. That he was willfully blind, and wanted to pretend that all was the same as it had been when their mother was alive, because he could not bear to think that it was Lady Kinsdale, not he, who had been responsible for maintaining what there was of the family fortune.”
Rosalind found she could readily believe this.
“I needed a place to stay. I needed some occupation and a fresh income. Elizabeth Kinsdale and her troubles could provide me a chance at both. So, I suggested to her that we join forces, and she agreed.
“That, Miss Thorne, is how I came to know the Kinsdales.”
Rosalind nibbled another bit of her roll. It was a very plausible story. Her talks with Samuel Tauton and Sampson Goutier—not to mention Adam himself—along with her own experience told her how schemers and frauds tended to keep their eyes open for such “opportunities.”
And her interactions with Elizabeth Kinsdale told Rosalind that Elizabeth might well have become convinced that she had been left with no choice but to accept the help of a clever, self-interested stranger.