Chapter Three #2
James Remington, the Chadleigh magistrate, called early on Dr. Paxton, whom he regarded as a good fellow and a decent physician. Still, he wasn’t the man to rock a steady boat, and this incident up at the court was—to continue his metaphor—a ship that needed to sail on.
Paxton’s housekeeper showed Remington into the doctor’s consulting room.
“Good morning, sir.” Paxton rose from his desk, where he had been busily writing, in order to greet his visitor.
“Hard at work already, I see,” Remington remarked, waving vaguely at the desk as he lowered himself into the chair opposite. “Does this mean you’ve completed your examination of the body?”
“I have,” Paxton said with a hint of grimness, “and I doubt His Lordship will like it.”
Remington grimaced. “Damn it, why not? What did you find?”
Paxton reached to the shelf behind him and brought down a thin-bladed dagger, which he tossed on the desk between them. “This, for one. Recognize it?”
“Yes,” Remington said with distaste. “It was sticking out of the girl’s body.”
“Before that. It didn’t register with me either at the time, though the hilt did seem vaguely familiar. I finally remembered this morning where I’d seen it before. In His Lordship’s collection.”
“The devil!” Remington peered more closely at the object that had ended the maid’s life. “No, he won’t like that. Don’t care for it myself. But Chadbon’s not under suspicion, man. He was with his guests all evening until the servants summoned him after the body was discovered.”
“I would never for a moment suggest such a thing,” Paxton said with dignity. “But the collection is not under lock and key, is it?”
Remington rubbed his chin. “No, that’s true… Anyone in the house could have taken the dagger. Any of the servants, any of the guests… Tell me, could the girl have done this to herself?”
“She would have to have known exactly what she was doing, avoiding the ribs and the sternum. So I seriously doubt it. The blade is wickedly sharp, so it would have gone in easily enough. But why would she do such a thing? And if she did, wouldn’t she be more likely to use a kitchen knife rather than one stolen from her master? ”
Unless she was making a point… Remington shied away from that thought. A man’s household was his own affair.
“There’s more,” Paxton said. “The girl was pregnant.”
“Oh, dear God.”
“It might come out at the inquest. We can hold it quickly this afternoon. I don’t have to mention the unborn child unless I’m asked.”
“That would be best.” Remington eyed him uneasily. “Your opinion will naturally sway the jury, and the coroner. What is your opinion?”
“That she was murdered. Which is not comfortable for those at the court.”
“No,” Remington agreed heavily. He drew in a breath.
“It’s market day. I’ll get my lads on the case asking a few questions there, and among the servants, see if anyone knows who the girl dallied with.
We can still tie this up nice and tight.
Though immorality and murder don’t speak well of Chadbon’s house. He won’t thank us for this.”
Uneasy silence fell between them, which was interrupted only by a knock on the door.
Paxton’s housekeeper looked in. “The curate’s here to see you, doctor.”
The curate… Now there was a suspicious young fellow, both a stranger and a guest of Chadbon. Who didn’t live in the house…
His gaze met the doctor’s.
“Tell him I’m busy with patients all morning,” Paxton said. “Someone will contact him about the inquest.”
*
Although Kate particularly wanted a brisk walk into the village and a long talk with Rupert, she was held up first by Mrs. Otteridge, then by Sir Colin Nye, and finally by Mr. Otteridge, all of whom had to be charmed and cajoled in their own way to either bring them on to Gilbert’s side or to convince them how necessary Gilbert was to their own goals.
And that Nye and Otteridge, who cordially disliked each other, really could work together for the greater good.
All the while she smiled, listened, and spoke, she found herself wondering if any of these efforts would make a blind bit of difference in the end. For all the high ideals she was extolling, should she not be doing something more immediately useful?
Like discovering what happened to the poor, dead maid, Dinah, and how her family could be helped.
She was returning to her room some two hours after breakfast when she came upon Mrs. Thornfield directing maids to various bedchambers.
“Are you well, Mrs. Thornfield?” Kate asked as the maids scattered about their business, for the housekeeper looked unusually fraught.
The woman’s brow cleared at once. “Indeed yes, my lady.” She lowered her voice.
“Last night… Well, it has all been something of a shock, you understand, and the servants need reassurance as well as discipline. They are understandably upset by Dinah’s…
dis-appear-ance. They suspect she’s dead, but they’re not allowed to talk about it. ”
“It must be hard for them. Did Dinah have particular friends among the maids?”
Mrs. Thornfield sighed. “She wasn’t the sort of girl who had female friends. Too flighty by half, if you know what I mean. But they’ll miss her all the same.”
“Did she have a young man?”
“They aren’t allowed to,” Mrs. Thornfield said at once.
“Which doesn’t mean they don’t look,” Kate said, sympathizing with the housekeeper’s difficulty. “Friendships will form. It’s human nature.”
“It is,” sighed Mrs. Thornfield. “Mr. Kemp has had to be quite severe with young Lewis.”
“The footman? He admired Dinah?”
“They all did, of course.”
“But she favored Lewis?”
“Sometimes. The girl was a flirt, my lady. Blew hot and cold, though to be fair to her, that seemed to keep them all in order.” The housekeeper drew in a breath and said with difficulty, “I know Your Ladyship was there and saw…but I know my mistress wouldn’t be happy if you went asking such questions of the servants and upsetting them. ”
“No indeed she wouldn’t,” Kate said, endeavoring to sound shocked at the very idea. “My aim is to help, if I can. You will let me know?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Um… Who do you think could have done this to Dinah?”
Mrs. Thornfield shuddered. “Some passing madman, of course. We’ve had all sorts of vagrants and beggars in the village over the last few months, terrible, rough creatures. There’s one been hanging around the inn, I hear.”
Kate nodded thoughtfully and went into her room. She sat down at her desk, meaning to write to Gilbert—although was there really any point when she would see him tomorrow anyway?
The men were currently in conclave or plotting in smaller groups and probably would not decide anything important about the bill until this evening. She gazed around her room, tapping her fingers on the desk. Grissy had already tidied everything, so there was little enough to potter with.
In the end, she seized her hat, pelisse, and reticule and sallied forth with the intention of walking to the village.
First, though, she would wander the house in search of Lewis the footman…
She knew he was the particularly good-looking young man normally stationed by the drawing room.
But no one stood there just now, since the ladies were about their own business at this hour of the day.
One footman stood by the library where some of the gentlemen were no doubt gathered, and she found another downstairs by the front door, but neither was Lewis.