Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They spent the next day on the road, changing horses at bustling coaching yards and eating whatever the innkeepers could pack for the journey. By dusk, they stopped at another inn, too tired and mud-spattered for anything but a simple supper, though Emma wasn’t too tired to make love to Hugh.
They reached Hartham late the following afternoon. The town square was quiet but for the clock tower striking the hour. Three shops stood shuttered, and she wondered how many more had closed since the accident.
“Mrs Fenwick said Dr Shadgrove has a practice near the town hall.” She stifled a yawn and scanned the market square. The October sky was already dimming to a smoky blue.
Hugh stopped a boy hauling a handcart stacked with kindling bundles and a sack of potatoes. “Dr Shadgrove’s house?”
The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve and pointed to a row of townhouses. “Next to the ironmonger, sir. Blue door with the brass plate. Mrs Salter will be there if the doctor’s out visiting.”
Hugh gave the boy a coin, ruffled his hair and spent a moment asking about his errands. If this boy ever found himself locked in a cupboard, perhaps he would think of this kindness and know not all men were the same.
“What? You’re looking at me like I gave him my gold watch and Hessians.”
“Nothing. He seemed pleased with the coin.”
“Wouldn’t you? Have you seen this place? There’s a permanent grey cloud overhead. Half the town still want the mine to reopen, even knowing what it cost them.”
Emma was no stranger to uncertainty. She was in love, and it was beautiful. But she kept hearing Melinda’s nagging voice asking what might happen if Emma found herself with child.
“Perhaps I could write an article about those hurt in the accident.” If she presented the facts, Lord Howden might take notice. “I could make a direct plea for compensation.”
“I wouldn’t speak to Howden until this business is over.” His gaze shifted to the curl escaping her bonnet. “But we can stay an extra night if it means repaying your debt. And we’re both tired from the journey.”
She might have reminded him sleep was not the issue, but a man driving a gig drew up outside the doctor’s townhouse.
They reached him just before he went inside.
“Dr Shadgrove?” Hugh said. “We’d like a few minutes of your time, if you can spare it.”
The man didn’t have the bald pate and white tufts she’d expected. He was in his thirties, with tired green eyes and sandy hair too long at the nape.
“I can spare as much as my supper allows,” he said, his voice carrying a faint Scottish burr.
“Supper this early?” Emma said.
He doffed his hat to her. “I’ve a patient expecting twins. I need to be on hand in case Mrs Salter can’t manage on her own.” He nodded towards the blue door. “Come in before the cold gets any ideas about following us.”
He led them into a cramped study lined with medical journals and jars of murky specimens, and gestured to the worn leather chairs. “Sit, if you can find room.”
Footsteps rang through the hall before a stout woman burst in. She stopped short. “Beg your pardon, doctor. I didn’t know you had patients.”
“Stay, Mrs Salter. These good people have an enquiry and may be in need of your services.”
A flush warmed Emma’s cheeks. “Oh, I’m not with child.” Though the thought had crossed her mind more than once since Shadowmere. Nothing was foolproof.
Hugh shifted in his seat. “We’ve travelled from London to speak to you, Dr Shadgrove.” He took a silver card case from his pocket, removed one, and passed it across the desk.
Dr Shadgrove paused over the card. “The Sentinel.” His expression sharpened with sudden interest. “So this is about the colliery. If it’s a story you seek, begin with why the families never received compensation.”
Hugh glanced at Emma. “Sir Robert Bellingham’s son was murdered. His daughter fled London in fear for her life. We’re here to discover why.”
The doctor turned as pale as the strange object bobbing in the specimen jar. “You think it has something to do with the tragedy at the mine? Most folk here blame the owners.”
“We think it has something to do with Sarah Carson, the foreman’s daughter.” Emma noticed Mrs Salter flinch and grip the doorframe. “We understand Miss Bellingham helped her purchase a new identity. Sarah’s family haven’t seen her since.”
Mrs Salter gasped. “She didn’t tell them about the babe?”
“Mrs Salter,” Dr Shadgrove snapped. “We don’t discuss a patient’s private matters, not with anyone.”
“Miss Carson was with child?” Emma said. It explained why she’d left home without speaking to her parents, and why she’d sought a new start. No one would question a young widow with a child.
Mrs Salter pursed her lips, though she didn’t seem to realise she was nodding. Dr Shadgrove merely stared at the desk.
“I’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” Hugh said in a tone that would make Lucifer cower.
“Miss Bellingham helped Sarah Carson disappear. Her brother was murdered while trying to discover why. Whatever Sarah knew about the mine has left one Bellingham dead and the other in hiding. We need the truth before someone else is next.”
When neither replied, Emma faced Hugh. “We’ll return with the magistrate. They’ll have to answer his questions.”
Hugh pushed back his chair and rose.
“Wait.” Dr Shadgrove’s hands twitched. “Someone told you to come here, and they mentioned me by name?”
“Yes. Though we cannot discuss our informant. Not with anyone.”
Emma came to her feet beside him. “I suggest you lock your doors at night. I’ve been pushed into the path of a carriage and shot at in the street. The killer sent me a threatening letter with an axe seal pressed into black wax.” She had not realised how mad it all sounded until now.
“And if that’s not enough to loosen your tongues, then think about Sarah Carson and her babe,” Hugh said. “Let’s hope we find her before the killer does.”
Emma wondered why anyone would want to harm an unmarried woman and her child. What did Sarah know that had made her run? She looked at the doctor and Mrs Salter. Why were they afraid to speak? Who was it they feared?
Unless this had nothing to do with the mine. It was about Sarah.
“Who fathered Sarah’s child?” Emma asked.
Dr Shadgrove pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “It’s a delicate matter. A private matter. I have your word you won’t print this in The Sentinel.”
“I’m here as a man trying to protect the person I care most about, not a journalist looking for the next thrilling story.”
Dr Shadgrove shuddered as though he were being forced to walk the plank. “Sarah said Lord Howden fathered her child.”
Emma jerked. “I beg your pardon. Did you say—” She couldn’t get her tongue around the words.
“Lord Howden,” the doctor repeated.
Emma’s stomach roiled. Bile stung her throat. And to think she might have married him.
“They were in love,” Mrs Salter said.
Emma put her hand to her mouth. Lord Howden had left one woman carrying his child, then set his sights on another. And Melinda had insisted there was nothing more respectable than marriage to a lord.
“We tried to explain that a peer doesn’t marry a commoner,” the doctor said, uncomfortable with his own words. “But then he came here with her and begged us to keep their secret. He mentioned a new life in Italy. Then tragedy struck, and we’ve not heard from her since.”
Emma straightened, but Hugh had already caught the flaw in the timeline. “The accident was two years ago. Sarah has only been missing for eleven months.”
“Not the mining accident,” Mrs Salter said, exchanging a glance with the doctor. “The death of Lord Howden.”
The study went quiet but for the tick of the doctor’s clock.
Emma sat, stunned.
Sarah and old Lord Howden had planned a life together in Italy, in the villa he bought for his sister. And now Sarah was out there somewhere with his child, hiding from the person who had stolen that future from them.
They needed to speak to Mrs Ashcombe again.
“Who else knew about their affair?” Hugh said.
Mrs Salter moved to light a lamp against the gathering dark.
The doctor shrugged. “Miss Bellingham. Sarah stayed with Lord Howden at a house he rented outside London, but told her parents she was staying with a friend.”
“She asked if it was safe to travel,” Mrs Salter added.
“Did Jeffrey Howden know?”
“He came here once, not long after his father’s death.” The doctor’s shoulders stiffened at the memory. “Said he knew about Sarah and the child and wished to offer support.”
Was that why he’d paid Mr Carson compensation? In the hope they’d tell him if Sarah returned.
“Did you tell him where he could find her?”
“Thankfully, I didn’t know.”
A brief silence followed.
Melinda would have clutched her heart and called it a thoughtful gesture. Darling Jeffrey eager to care for his kin.
Emma wasn’t that naive.
“Did Jeffrey Howden mention who told him about the child?” She wondered if Mrs Ashcombe knew and had let it slip after a night on the rum.
“He spoke of a letter. Something Sir Robert Bellingham had found and passed along before he died, though I never learned the particulars.”
“Anyone else ask questions?” Hugh said.
“No, but I was to send word if I heard from Sarah.”
“Then I shall ask the same of you.” Hugh gestured to his calling card on the desk. “You know where to find me. If you think of anything else, we’re staying at The George tonight.”
Dr Shadgrove pocketed the card and walked them to the door. “God willing, you’ll find her before this villain does.”
“God willing,” Hugh echoed, though his tone suggested he trusted providence about as much as he trusted lords.
The cold hit them the moment they stepped outside, the last of the daylight slipping behind the rooftops. The George stood at the top of the square, and Rowton would have secured them a room.
She threaded her arm through Hugh’s as they walked, their boots ringing on the cobbles. “For a moment, I thought Jeffrey Howden had fathered Sarah’s child. Now I fear he may have killed the man who did.”