Chapter Seven
Although Kate sprang into wakefulness at her usual time, she had to rise without her usual cup of tea in bed.
Grissy’s snores were still audible from the sofa at the foot of the bed.
By the time they had returned last night, the maid had looked so cold, wet, exhausted, and ill that Kate had guiltily made her a comfortable couch on the broad sofa, so that she could sleep through the usual early-morning noise and bustle of the servants’ quarters.
Outside, the rain still poured down.
Kate slid out of bed and padded over to the sofa, where she laid her palm against the maid’s forehead. Relieved to find Grissy’s skin un-fevered, she left her to sleep and set about washing and dressing for her own day.
Rupert had, finally, disgorged several clues to Dinah’s murder, and she was in a hurry to look into all of them. In fact, when she considered how many of her suspects were about to leave the house, panic surged into her heart. How could she resolve this murder in the matter of hours left to her?
By setting to work immediately, of course.
She donned a walking dress, since she planned to rove the countryside that morning, brushed and pinned her own hair into a simple knot, and sallied forth in search of her host.
Breakfast was not yet set out, and the only people around seemed to be servants. However, when she knocked on Lord Chadbon’s study door, he bade her come in.
“Ah, Lady Ambrose,” he greeted her, rising from his desk chair. “Good morning. You are very bright and early. Do I take it you have decided to leave us after all? I’m sure Sir Gilbert must be missing you.”
“Oh, he is still about Your Lordship’s business too,” Kate said, advancing into the room and lowering her voice.
Propriety dictated that she did not close the door, but she had no desire to be overheard.
“No, I wanted to ask you about the dagger that was used to kill Dinah. I understand it was kept in here?”
She glanced around the room as she spoke, in search of the kind of glass cabinets in which collectors tended to display their treasures.
Instead, she found two swords and an ancient-looking shield hung on the wall.
Beneath the display was a repurposed bookcase, its top surface and its shelves used to display an array of weapons, including a set of ornate dueling pistols, a partial ax-head, and several daggers.
Chadbon moved instinctively toward his collection, almost as though protecting it. “This is it,” he said, indicating the long-bladed dagger lying across the top of the bookcase. “In its proper place.”
So it was already back in his possession. For a sickening moment, Kate recalled that exquisitely wrought hilt sticking out of Dinah’s breast and had to blink the image away in order to think. “Then it was the pride of your collection?”
“I bought it as a young man, during my grand tour in Italy. It is Florentine, sixteenth century, no fancy jewels, just fantastic workmanship, a deadly blade, this delightfully wrought hilt that allows a strong grip, and yet so intricate and pleasing to the eye.”
Kate forced herself to look at it. “The blade is long. It would be a difficult thing to hide in one’s pocket. Who could have taken it from here, my lord?”
He lifted his shoulders, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Anyone. The door is not locked.”
“Who cleans this room?”
“The maids,” he said blankly. “They know to put everything back as it is, just as they know to leave my papers on the desk as they find them.”
From his desk, he would have a direct view of the collection. It would have been difficult for some visitor to purloin it while he was in the room.
“Which maids?” Kate asked, shying away from mentioning guests.
Chadbon looked as if he were about to bluster and deny any knowledge of what menial did what in his house. But in the end, he sighed and said, “Dinah, usually. The girl who died.”
“When did you notice the dagger was missing?”
“I didn’t. Until I saw it that night in—” He broke off, waving the words aside with something very like embarrassment.
“Did Dinah clean in here the day she died?”
He looked blank. “She must have. To be honest, I didn’t take much notice. I was receiving guests most of the day.”
“But you spoke to some of them in here. When you greeted me, you stepped out of this room with Mr. Newman and Mr. Otteridge.”
“Did I?” he said in vague surprise. “Yes, I believe you are right.”
“Was the dagger still in place then? Did you show it to Mr. Newman, for example, since it is his first visit to Chadbon Court?”
Chadbon thought. “Actually, no, it didn’t cross my mind.
I was impressing on Newman the importance of Nye’s support—as you know, Newman can be a little…
volatile and confrontational, and he has already sparred in the House with Nye.
Even Otteridge arrived with doubts as to this alliance, so my mind was very focused.
I don’t recall so much as glancing at the collection.
I certainly didn’t notice the dagger was missing. ”
“Did you return here at any point after that?”
“No, I never had the chance. I spoke to Nye in the library, and then it was teatime. Our informal discussions were outside. And later, after dinner, we came straight to the drawing room. I wasn’t going to allow huddles of discontent to form.”
“Of course not,” Kate said hurriedly. “What about earlier in the day? Did you receive anyone else in here? A messenger? A man of business?” Such people tended to arrive and depart quite frequently from Chadbon’s residences.
His eyebrows flew up. “No. But now I think of it, I did see a couple of my neighbors in here that morning. They told Kemp it was business, so he showed them in here—though it turned out to be nothing of the sort when I joined them.”
Kate’s heart gave a thud of excitement. “Then they were in here without you for some time?”
“No more than five minutes, and seriously, Lady Ambrose, my neighbors are gentlemen!”
“Which gentlemen?” she asked with a cajoling smile.
Chadbon sighed. “Young Carver, the squire’s son, and his soon-to-be father-in-law, Gibb of Tetley Hall.
They have set a date for the wedding and wanted to be sure Marjorie and I would be free to attend before they settled everything.
I assured them we would be and made my excuses, since we were expecting guests. ”
This is better! Young Carver the squire’s son was, according to Rupert, the father of Dinah’s child, and Gibb the father of his intended. Both had a motive to be rid of the complication that was Dinah.
Suddenly breathless, Kate asked, “Did you leave them in here after you excused yourself?”
“No, I was civil enough to see them to the front door.”
Still, one of them could already have picked up and hidden the dagger about their person. Not easy considering the length of its blade, but possible. This was very useful.
But she had more to ask. “Mrs. Thornfield mentioned there have been several vagrants in the area recently.”
“It tends to be the same all over. Many of them are old soldiers returned from the war. It is one of the things our bill will address.”
“Of course, but perhaps you are aware of one in particular who hangs around the inn?”
“Why no, but I’ll have Remington look into it. If that is all, Lady Ambrose…?” Lord Chadbon edged back toward his desk.
“Just one more thing,” Kate said hastily. “What was your impression of Dinah?”
He blinked. “She was a maid.”
“An exceptionally pretty one. Did this ever cause…difficulties amongst your household or guests? A temptation, perhaps? Was she disruptive? Pert? A good worker, an asset to your staff?”
“I really have no idea,” he replied stiffly. “My wife handles household matters, as you might expect. Where there is any need for more than the supervision of Kemp or Mrs. Thornfield.”
“Of course,” Kate said smoothly. “I’ll speak to them. Thank you.”
Chadbon gave a thin smile. “You needn’t be quite so…assiduous, you know. The arrest has gone quietly and smoothly, Remington is perfectly satisfied, and the whole matter will soon be forgotten.”
“I doubt it,” Kate said. “I don’t believe the curate did it. And the truth has a way of turning up whether it is convenient or not. I would protect Your Lordship from that.”
It was an excellent line to exit with, but even as she departed, she could almost hear Rupert laughing at her smooth, political answer, which was itself only vaguely truthful.
In fact, her priority was protecting her old friend and getting justice for the girl who seemed to have no one else to speak for her.
It made her feel slightly guilty as she opened the front door and extracted an umbrella from the stand there, because she realized she would expose the truth even if meant sacrificing the returning soldiers bill, Gilbert’s position, and Chadbon’s patronage.
Oh well, there will be other ways to support the soldiers. Gilbert is stuck with me. And Chadbon is not the only powerful man in Parliament.
The rain battered rather than pattered on her umbrella as she ran around to the stables. The weather had certainly worsened during their return last night, and it didn’t seem to have let up since. The ground was awash in mud and puddles.
Jack Irwin, the Chadbons’ head coachman, was standing under the wooden overhang of the carriage house with a couple of other vising coachmen, all in serious conversation and gazing apprehensively at the filthy sky.
The Ambrose coachman, who had been informed yesterday of Kate’s longer stay at the court, was not present, and the others melted away as she approached.
“A good day not to be traveling, my lady,” Jack greeted her.
“That’s what I thought.”
“River’s burst its banks below Chadleigh. I wouldn’t advise anyone to try and get through today.”
“That bad?” Kate responded, trying not to look too hopeful. Perhaps this would give her the time she needed.
“Going to get worse, too,” Jack opined.