Chapter Nine #3
“Not at the house,” Kate answered him, “but I believe the river has burst its banks and flooded the London road. So poor Lady Chadbon is obliged to put up with us all for another night at least.” She smiled from one to the other of the carriage occupants, and surprised a particularly acute stare from Elizabeth, hastily softened.
Jealousy, Kate thought. Like Margaret Newman.
She turned to Mr. Gibb. “I believe we just missed each other on Tuesday, when you called upon Lord Chadbon. I must have arrived a bare hour or so after you left. Such hospitable hosts, and he is quite the collector, is he not? Did you see his antique weapons?”
“Many times,” Elizabeth said haughtily. “Is it convenient for us to call on your mama, Kit?”
“Oh, yes,” Carver said at once. “She is always pleased to see you. Perhaps you would take Lady Ambrose up to the house and introduce her? I’d better discover the condition of the horse and clean myself up a bit…”
“Oh, I shan’t bring my mud into your carriage,” Kate said. “Or to Mrs. Carver’s home! I believe I shall just walk back to the stables with you, Mr. Carver, and see how the mare does.”
That clearly did not please Elizabeth either. And indeed, Kate had made the suggestion partly to see her reaction. The young woman smiled easily enough, but her posture was stiff with disapproval. Her father, on the other hand, looked as if he noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
Of the two of them, Kate would suspect Elizabeth of murder before her father. But at least, now that she had been seen here by so many people, she did not feel unsafe walking back up the deserted path to the stables with the squire’s son.
Kate said bluntly, “Remembering where you both were as you waited for Lord Chadbon to join you in his study—and where you all sat or stood when he joined you—could Mr. Gibb have…borrowed His Lordship’s dagger?”
She wondered if Carver would try to deflect the blame from himself or instinctively protect his bride’s father. The latter, it seemed.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, staring at her. “Of course he did not, and would not! The man is excessively honest.”
“You and Elizabeth were childhood friends,” Kate said. “Did you and she ever escape your respective schoolrooms or nurseries and get up to mischief together?”
He blinked. “I did. With several of the village children. But Elizabeth was never like that. It would never have entered her head to do anything so improper.”
On the face of it, and on very brief acquaintance, Kate tended to agree. But jealousy was a powerful emotion, and Elizabeth was clearly jealous of her gently born betrothed. And while Carver clearly imagined she was ignorant of his relationship with Dinah, Kate was not so sure of that.
She itched to question the servants in both households.
Reluctantly, however, she put the idea aside.
Servants tended to be loyal to their masters, so she had little chance of discovering the truth.
And in any case, the storm of outrage she would initiate with such inquiries would hardly be in keeping with her promise of discretion.
Reaching the truth of this crime was like trying to open a box with both hands tied behind one’s back.
Unsurprisingly, Graham the groom had found nothing wrong with the mare. Kate pronounced herself overjoyed and accepted the groom’s help in remounting.
The sky was definitely lighter now, and from the back of the stables, Carver pointed out the path back to Chadbon Court, and the other road to Chadleigh. On impulse, Kate turned the mare toward the latter. She had a notion to call upon the vicar.
*
Kit Carver watched the slight, mud-spattered figure of Lady Ambrose ride away to the Chadleigh Road. There was something indomitable about her, something brave, that he admired.
And feared.
He turned away and walked briskly to the house, trying to force his mood back to one of pleasure in his guests’ company, and joyful anticipation of the future.
Which meant sloughing off the heavy veil of guilt that had enveloped him for so long.
Yet that veil only felt heavier and tighter, because Dinah was dead.
I should never have touched her. I ruined her life.
Dear God, he hadn’t even guessed at that other life growing inside her. His child…
Kit had told Lady Ambrose the truth. He had loved Dinah. Still did. He had never encountered a woman so alive, so full of laughter and fun and passion. But he knew he would not have given in to temptation and lain with her if she had been a lady. Since she was a mere maid, he had.
What in God’s name was I thinking? That I could have both of them without Elizabeth ever finding out? Dinah had been loyal enough that she would never have told, but in a small country community he had been lucky to get away with what he had done. All he had done.
Dinah is dead. The guilt of that would never go away.
And Lady Ambrose poking and prying for whatever reason… Surely she was put up to it by Lord Chadbon, all-powerful in Parliament and in Chadleigh. She was so pretty, so beguiling, so clever… What was she looking for? Who and what was she threatening?
Me.