13 An Unsettled State #2
The additional numbers in the drawing room made it harder for Cora to slip away in the evening.
The previous neat grouping of a four for whist and a pair at backgammon or cribbage had left her free to leave whenever she liked, but the increased numbers blew this comfortable arrangement apart.
She worked industriously at her embroidery in the hope of passing unnoticed, but the gregarious Mr Chamberlain had the effect of making everyone else more gregarious too, so she routinely found someone seeking her out.
“What are you doing skulking over here all by yourself?” Charlotte would say brightly, and if it was not Charlotte it would be Sophia or Lady Juliet.
Even Mr Godley picked up the idea and directed some of his ponderous flirtation at her until she could scream.
And sometimes she was even called upon to join them at the card table, which was the worst case of all, for the cards could not penetrate the haze of her mind, and she was roundly berated for her lack of attention.
At least there were still the afternoons, when everyone disappeared on business of their own and Cora could walk through the cool woods to the hut.
Sometimes Cal was not even there, but she made herself a cup of tea and sat resting her elbows on the table he had made with his own hands and felt his spirit warming her heart.
One afternoon, as she was walking back from one such visit at which Cal had not appeared, she found Ben Lovell loitering by the path.
There was a gap in the foliage just there so that the lawns on the far side of the lake were clearly visible, and he was crouched down, watching the nursery party at play.
“Good afternoon, Ben,” she said. “Those children are growing so fast. In no time, they will be riding ponies, with grooms chasing after them.”
He rose smoothly to his feet. “Aye. I love to watch them. It makes me hopeful for the future, with so many little’uns, after all his grace’s tragedies.”
She would have moved on, but he said, “I wonder if I might… ask your advice about a matter, ma’am?”
“Of course, although I am not sure what advice I might be able to offer. There is a fallen tree just a little further on where we might sit and be comfortable.”
Thus settled, she waited while he chewed his lip and turned his hat in his hands, his game bag and guns at his feet.
He was not an ill-favoured man, for even the harshness of his outdoor life had not rendered him weather-beaten.
His skin was sallow and he had an unusually large nose, but his eyes were a gentle brown.
“It’s about the Red Jenny, ma’am,” he began.
That took Cora by surprise. “You have discovered who put it into the tea?”
“No, no… not that. That’s the problem, you see.
What happened was this. I was in Brinchester the other day having a drink at the Red Dragon, and I overheard some talk between two men…
not anyone I knew. Bakers, it seemed like.
They had a scheme set up where they took a quantity of flour and replaced it with some cheaper stuff.
No one noticed, and they had the better quality flour to use themselves, or to sell, it wasn’t clear which. ”
“Flour,” Cora said, struggling to see the point.
“Well, it struck me that maybe someone did the same with the tea — took a quantity of the good stuff and replaced it with cheaper. And maybe they put in Red Jenny by mistake, because it looks just like tea, doesn’t it?”
“Oh! A substitution… a mistake… it could be. Then… it was just an accident, you think?”
“It’s more likely than trying to harm Mrs Richard, wouldn’t you say? But the problem is what to do about it.”
“What to do?”
“If someone was stealing tea…”
“Oh! Someone at Staineybank was stealing tea! But who? Who would do such a thing? Oh dear!”
“Just so, ma’am. If we go looking, we might find whoever it is, or we might just stir up a hornet’s nest and set everyone on edge, and maybe someone would be turned off and…
well, I’ll be honest, ma’am, I don’t like to be the means of anyone losing their place.
And the tea’s locked up safe now, isn’t it?
So it can’t happen again, so maybe it’s best left alone. What do you think?”
“I think… I think you may be right,” she said slowly. “It can do no good digging it up now, since it cannot happen again.”
He smiled then, lighting up his rather dour face. “I’m glad you agree with me, ma’am. Well, I’ll be off home, then. Good day to you.”
It was not until the next time she saw Cal and was sipping her tea beside him on the bench that Cora remembered this conversation. Relating it to Cal, she said, “What do you think? It is plausible, is it not?”
“Aye, and better for everyone than a deliberate poisoning. Who would it be, though? Someone with access to the tea caddies before they were locked away and also to a source of dried Red Jenny.”
“That is just the sort of speculation that Ben is hoping to avoid,” she said.
“Well, he wouldn’t want the indoor servants getting hold of the idea.
You’d have the housemaid accusing the cook and the cook accusing the footman and everyone eyeing each other suspiciously.
That’s what he means by stirring up a hornet’s nest. But that doesn’t apply to you or me, does it?
Or to any of the upper servants. Mr Hammond would be as merry as a grig with this to chew on, I reckon. ”
“Which is exactly why we should not mention it to him,” Cora said, frowning. “It is all finished with now, the tea locked away and Rowena is safe.”
“But if someone is stealing, Cora… it was tea then, but now it might be the spoons or candles or any small but valuable items left carelessly lying around.”
“Oh dear.” She took a deep breath. “You are right, of course. I cannot simply let this pass. I shall talk to Hester first, I think. She will know what to do.”
***
“Hannah Billings,” Hester said confidently. “I never trusted that girl. It is just the sort of thing she would do.”
Cora frowned. “Hannah Billings? I cannot place her.” They were in Hester’s room, enjoying tea and cakes and a gossip on a wet afternoon.
“Kitchen maid. Not here for very long. I was always finding her where she had no business to be, so I gently hinted that she might be more comfortable elsewhere.”
“Did she steal anything else, or just the tea, do you think?”
“Well… things went missing. Half a pie, cheese, a bar of soap — the good scented type, not the cheap kind the servants use. A bottle of gooseberries, once. I never caught her at it, but I was sure it was her. But the tea… yes, it could have been. Her father is an apothecary in Brinchester… no, not her father, an uncle… cousin… something of the sort. So she could have had access to Red Jenny.”
“Well, that is all right then,” Cora said, reaching for the teapot and pouring herself another cup.
“Why is it all right? To have a thief in the house! It is most unsettling, Cora.”
“Oh yes, but she is gone now, so there can be no more thievery, can there? If you are confident it was her, I shall tell Ben. He seemed very worried about it — that it might cause bad feeling and suspicion amongst the servants if a fuss were to be made about it. But if it was the Billings girl and she is gone… well, there is an end to it. Hester, will you not have a slice of seed cake? It is very good, and I am persuaded that it will help to build up your strength.”
But Hester pulled a face. “If I eat cake in the afternoon, I struggle to eat anything at dinner, and then everyone fusses so, and starts talking about Dr Percival and the benefits of cupping. In a hop and a skip, they are planning to send me off to a spa for the summer, and arguing about whether Malvern is superior to Droitwich. Yet all I want is to be left alone. Charlotte has taken over my duties in running the house, so I am free to spend my days however I please. This is what pleases me, Cora, to sit in my room with the scent of sweet peas wafting through the air, a friend to visit and nothing to worry me.”
“Then that is just what you must do, dear,” Cora said. “I do think you are a little better lately. You appear at dinner more often.”
“That is true, but only because I have learnt to proceed at a slower pace. When my illness first overtook me, I tried to keep going and failed utterly. Now… I have slowed down. It is so much easier that I even feel a little better. It is an illusion, of course. We all know what the final outcome will be.”
Cora’s heart ached for her friend, but she smiled and patted her hand. “We are all praying you are wrong, Hester dear.”