Chapter 12
Twelve
Kate
Ana Marie's funeral had been set for noon. Since she and Brydie had arranged the services, Kate left the manor early, avoiding walking with Vivien and the other mourners by doing so.
To her relief, an auburn-haired stranger who could only be Ana's son waited uncertainly in the chapel yard. “Mr. Marie?”
He turned at her call. Kate wore a bonnet covering her hair, but once she let it fall, his expression lit.
“The cousin mother wrote us about?” He bowed.
“Caitlin Morgan, yes. I so very much regret not making the time to know her better. We were never introduced, and we only discovered each other by accident.”
“You look just like her, as she said!” He tied his horse to a post and offered his arm to traverse the chapel yard bursting with rhododendrons.
“Mother knew we were originally from Gravesyde. I believe my grandfather once worked for the last earl. But we had no notion any family remained. She was thrilled to meet you and had hoped a better acquaintance could be arranged.”
“I have family and it was difficult. I should have made it happen, but I thought we had plenty of time!” Kate tried to hide her distress as they traversed the walkway.
“I understand she was a seamstress, but I do not understand why she did not apply to Miss Marlowe. We could have worked together.” She led him inside the village's tiny chapel.
Despite her confinement, Patience had still arranged huge bouquets of forsythia and smaller vases of daffodils for the altar. The sun had finally peered out, illuminating the ancient stained-glass windows, producing a truly heavenly effect to send off a good woman to the next world.
Kate introduced Mr. Marie to Mr. Upton, the curate, so he could discuss the words to be said in the service. She desperately wished to know more of this family she'd never known. She equally desperately didn't want them to believe their mother may have been pushed. . .
And she might be the reason.
The interview with Vivien had not exactly been enlightening, but it had forced Kate to look at what she did not wish to see. . . Hugh Morgan had been at the manor when Vivien was pushed and in Gravesyde the same day that Ana Marie died.
She didn’t know why he’d attack Vivien, unless she’d been in his way, but Kate looked so much like her older cousin that even her son recognized the resemblance.
Her brother-in-law hadn't seen Kate in years. That first day, after pushing Ana Marie, had Hugh thought he'd killed Kate, thus making the farm free for the taking? The horror of that possibility overwhelmed her. Her tears during the service were as much fear as sorrow.
Afterwards, before Mr. Marie could follow the other gentlemen heading for the cemetery, Kate placed a hand upon his arm. “Must you leave immediately? We really need to talk.”
“I cannot miss too much work.” He hesitated as the curate and others left the churchyard. “But I will need to eat before riding home. Is the pub respectable?”
She smiled in relief. “More than respectable. It's owned by our bailiff.” She nodded at Rafe, waiting to escort the ladies safely back to the manor. “I will meet you there later.”
As the men departed on their grim task, Brydie caught up with Kate. “You are conspiring.”
“I am being hospitable to a grieving son. And conspiring. We need to arrange a luncheon at the pub. Let me warn Lavender I will not return immediately.”
Avoiding Vivien was the order of the day.
Kate hastily spoke to her employer while the other seamstresses went ahead.
She needed time to think about the girl’s tale.
Might someone else have pushed Vivien, hoping Hugh would be blamed?
Heaven only knew, the girl was irritating, but hardly worth killing.
Kate could not imagine how Hugh might gain entrance to the manor without anyone noticing.
Vivien had been found on the stairs between Lavender’s office and Sofia’s laboratory.
Admittedly, Sofia hadn’t been present, but still, wouldn’t someone have heard Hugh if he hid in there? And how would he have escaped?
If he’d run up instead of down. . . there was no escape into the manor from the laboratory.
He’d have to climb to the crowded schoolroom on the next floor.
No, that simply did not make sense. Could a short, middle-aged man leap over Vivien and escape through the entrance in the cellar?
Without Vivien noticing? Impossible to imagine—unless she’d fainted.
Or was there some reason for Vivien to lie? Had she seen her assailant and was afraid to say?
With Rafe attending the funeral, Brydie and Kate took charge of the inn’s kitchen staff. Kate fretted at her lost wages, but Ana Marie deserved mourning. And if Hugh had killed her—she had no idea how to make amends for that.
Apparently smelling food, Fletch entered the back door, saw women instead of Rafe, and backed out again.
“I heard you had a visitor last night. Do Damien and I need to stay tonight?” Brydie asked, slicing old bread for toasting.
“I haven't planned that far,” Kate admitted. After last night’s fiasco, she preferred not to even remember Major Ferguson existed. She’d concentrated on the funeral instead. “I'm hoping Hugh will be caught today. He's been knifed and shot. How much more can he take?”
Brydie grimaced but put her mind to food rather than reply.
With the aid of kitchen staff, they had a luncheon prepared when Rafe and Damien accompanied Mr. Marie to the pub after the burial. Refusing to let the men take over any questioning, Kate and Brydie carried out a tray and joined them.
“My mother was a stranger to you. My sister and I are grateful for everything you have done.” Of average height, with the Calhoun hair, Mr. Marie had the manners of a gentleman, even though his coat showed signs of wear and his frayed collar had been turned to look new.
“Tell us about her,” Kate suggested, taking the seat offered.
While the others dug into their food, he sipped his ale and sought words.
“She was kind and generous. After our father died, she worked long hours building her dressmaking shop so I could attend university. When my sister married and her husband could not provide a decent home, Mother decided Noreen should take over the shop and house. She had heard about Wycliffe manor and the factory for women and wanted to see for herself. I think she may have been lonely.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Damien commiserated. “Our loss as well, it seems. Do you know if she was prone to dizzy spells or any other reason she might have fallen?”
Kate raised her eyebrows. That was not how her thoughts had gone. But Damien hadn't heard Vivien’s tale.
Why was she believing Vivien and not accepting the fall might have been accidental? Hugh’s threats had muddled her mind.
Mr. Marie shook his head. “Mother wouldn't have told us if she was ill. That could explain much, I suppose. She wouldn't want us fretting over her.”
“And you don't know why she didn't apply for the dressmaking position?” Kate asked. He'd not answered earlier. “Perhaps her eyesight was bothering her?”
“No, that's a puzzlement.” He sipped his ale thoughtfully.
“She wrote that she had applied but was told she wasn't needed.
So she applied to the housekeeper, who seemed delighted to have her.
I think she stayed just to find out why she hadn't been accepted as a seamstress. She was rather insulted. She had an excellent reference from one of her best customers.”
“Very odd, indeed.” Kate gave up eating. “We are in dire need of experienced hands. I would have loved to have had her assistance. I don't suppose you know to whom she applied?”
He shook his head. “She only wrote of her disappointment. I should have come to see her sooner, but I'm just starting out in my position and can't afford to leave work for visiting.”
He was probably courting as well, Kate thought. He was of an age. Men needed a woman.
Her cheeks heated as she recalled Fletch's rude suggestion.
She set aside her serviette and stood up.
“On that note, I must depart for my own work. We are far behind on our deadlines. It was good to meet you, sir. I hope you and your sister will visit occasionally so we might come to know each other.”
“My mother would have liked that, I believe.”
The gentlemen rose to bow her out. Kate fled, her thoughts bouncing inside her skull. She needed to find out who had turned Ana Marie away. Why did it matter? It wouldn't bring her back.
But it would keep Kate from thinking about the badly wounded man beneath Fletch’s angry facade.