16 The House In The Woods
With so many of the household away, Cora was pleased to receive an invitation for Sunday dinner from the Hammonds.
As she had hoped, Cal was invited, too. She had joined him for dinner at the hut on Thursday, as usual, but every meal with him was an occasion to treasure.
Jamie Hammond’s father made a fifth, and this time Hester was to join them, too.
Jamie had rummaged in the attics for hours to track down an ancient chair with carrying handles in which to convey her up the stairs, so it was a very convivial party which gathered in the Hammonds’ pleasant apartment under the eaves.
It was inevitable, given Jamie’s liking for mysteries, that the question of the tainted tea should be brought up again and Hester mentioned the satisfactory solution to the question.
“Hannah Billings?” Jamie said frowning. “Are you sure, Hester?”
“Well, no one can be entirely sure, but she was always furtive, and it is just the sort of thing she would do. She could have got the mushroom from her apothecary uncle… or cousin, or whatever he was. It fits, Jamie, even you must agree.”
“But…” He stopped, frowning. “Surely she left before the ladies experienced their tragedies?”
“Yes, but if she had contaminated the tea before she left—”
“No, no, she left too long before. It was March when the disaster happened — I cannot forget the date, Hester — but Hannah Billings left here the previous September. You are not telling me that tea sat there for six months.”
“Of course not! Rowena’s tea… a supply lasted for three months or so, at most. September… are you quite certain?”
“Absolutely certain. It was about two weeks before Michaelmas because Pyott always grumbles about the duke’s rule for paying to the end of the quarter when servants give notice, and he was very pleased that there was so little of it left when Hannah went.”
“You are right,” Hester said in a small voice. “I remember seeing her at the Farmers’ Ball at Michaelmas and she told me all about her new place. Oh dear. Then who could it be? Perhaps it is better not to ask the question, since the tea is now locked away and cannot be tampered with in future.”
“That is all very well,” Jamie said, “but we have someone in the house who committed a crime. I cannot think it likely that the tea was tampered with intentionally, but a thief who stole a quantity of good tea and topped it up with a cheaper type, and accidentally put Red Jenny in there — that I can well believe. And if someone steals tea, they might very well be stealing other things, too. Mrs Bright is always complaining that leftover bits and pieces go missing from the pantry.”
“She knows very well that odds and ends like that get put out for the men’s dinner,” Hester said. “Men doing hard labour are always hungry.”
“Some butter went a few days ago,” Cora said. “Charlotte mentioned it. I doubt any of the grooms ate a slab of butter.”
“It probably went up to the nursery,” Hester said. “Charlotte is very good, but she does not know everything that goes on.”
“You are a kind soul, Hester,” Cora said, “and hate to think ill of anybody, which is perfectly understandable. I am very much of your mind in this. Jamie, I do not think it can do any good to pursue this theft, if indeed it was a matter of theft. It can only lead to upset and distress.”
“Suppose it was the silver?” Jamie said. “The pot of coins Froggett uses to pay the carters and delivery boys? Those small but extremely valuable snuff boxes in the library cabinet? We would have to deal with that, I am sure you would agree. So why not a quantity of tea?”
“Because it is all speculation,” Cora said firmly. “All we know is that two women suffered the loss of a baby on the same day. From that we have inferred a great deal that may or may not have any substance to it. We could turn the whole house upside down for no reason whatsoever.”
“You are perfectly correct,” Jamie said.
“Nevertheless, the suspicion is there and I should like to see it nipped in the bud, for one very good reason. It would have been very convenient if we could have set this at the door of Hannah Billings, but if we cannot, then we have one very obvious possible culprit.”
“Timmy Skinner,” Hester whispered.
“Precisely. He works in the kitchen and sleeps there, too, giving him ample opportunity to meddle with the tea caddies, and his grandmother is one of those supplied with Red Jenny by Ben Lovell.”
“And Timmy goes home every Sunday,” Hester said, wringing her hands. “But he is such a good worker, Jamie… such a good boy in every other way. I cannot believe… no, surely not. And he needs the work. You must not turn him off without a reference, not when his family is so poor.”
“I have no intention of turning him off,” Jamie said gently.
“But this must be stopped. He cannot be left to think that he can pilfer here and there without consequence. All I propose is that we bring in the constable—” Hester gave a low moan.
“—to talk to everyone. Archie Buckley is a familiar figure, and nothing like as terrifying as a magistrate would be. He will ask everyone if they stole any tea, point out that it is a capital offence, everyone will deny it, he will write it all down in his notebook and go away again. And Timmy — if indeed he is the culprit — will know that his crime has been observed and will appreciate the consequences of stealing. After that, we may forget about the whole business.”
“Archie Buckley,” Hester mused. “No one could be afraid of him, even without his baker’s apron. Yes, that would not upset people too badly. There would be a few ruffled feathers, and afterwards we could let it be known, very quietly, that perhaps we were mistaken about the missing tea.”
“Except that Timmy would know the truth,” Jamie said.
“Yes, but he would know he was safe, so long as there was no repetition,” Hester said. “It is a good idea, Jamie.”
“Then let us do that,” Jamie said.
***
Cal chose the day when the constable was to come to take Cora to Frickham Wood again.
He knew that it would distress her to be in the house when the servants were to be accused, no matter how gently, of theft, so he arranged to set off long before Archie Buckley and his son, acting as assistant constable, were due to arrive.
“We’re going to this end of the woods this time,” he told her as they bowled down the Staineybank drive in the dog cart. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“How intriguing,” she said, but she asked no questions. He liked that about her, that she was content to let the day unfold as it would, without impatience.
It was a much shorter journey, no more than a couple of miles, to Woodend Cottage, where he drew to a halt.
“The witch’s cottage,” he murmured to Cora. “Don’t worry, she won’t put a spell on you. We’re going to leave the horse here.”
“Some extra coins for them.”
“Precisely. Ah, here’s Betty now. Good morning, Betty. Here we are, as agreed. Cora, this is Mrs Skinner, Timmy’s mother.” Betty dipped a curtsy. “How’s your mother today, Betty?”
“Better, thank’ee, Cal. Them lozenges yer brung shifted ’er cough. Fine day fer an outin’. Enjoy your day in the woods, mum.”
“Thank you, Mrs Skinner. I am sure I will.”
Cal saw the horse safely stowed in Betty’s shed, and then set off for the woods. He carried the heavy bags himself, leaving Cora to carry only a couple of rugs. They might not need them, but it was as well not to spoil the surprise.
From Woodend Cottage, they walked up a narrow lane, but when they reached the edge of the woods, he continued on along the lane, now distinguished from the neighbouring field only by the two deep ruts left by farm wagons.
Twice Cora stumbled, but she caught herself up and carried on without complaint.
It was only when the lane rounded a corner of the woods in a swerve to the north that she stopped in surprise.
“Gate posts!”
He turned to her with a smile. “Intriguing, isn’t it? If you look over the fields to that line of trees, that is the road that loops round from Frickham and High Frickham to the Rindle bridge and down to Woodbridge. That’s where this lane goes.”
“But there must have been a house here once,” she said. “A carriage would turn off the road, make its way up the lane and then in through the gate posts to… something.”
“Something… yes.” He laughed then, and leaned towards her to whisper, “Shall we investigate?”
“Oh, you know what we will find, you irritating man.”
“I do, yes. It’s quite a surprise. Shall we go in?”
There were ancient wrought iron gates leaning drunkenly between the gate posts, with a gap of several feet between them.
They passed through and into the woods. Beyond the gates, the original drive was overgrown but Cal had hacked back the worst of it and the twin lines of sturdy limes strode onwards marking the way.
In only a few minutes they came to the house. A few scrubby trees had encroached on what must once have been open lawns, but most of the growth was bramble and low-growing shrubs, so that the house seemed to rise out of the wilderness like a ship in a green sea.
“Ohhh!” Cora breathed. “How charming! Queen Anne, I think. So elegant, do you not agree?”
With a wry laugh, Cal shrugged. “It’s just a house, to me, but I knew you would like it.”
“But what is it doing here, hidden away in the woods and so neglected?”
“It’s marked on the map as Briar House. Took me a while to find it, because I was trying to get at it through the woods at first. Once I thought to look for the old carriage drive, it was easier.
There might be a lodge cottage near the gates, but I haven’t looked for that yet.
I thought this was more interesting. Shall we go inside? ”
“Can we? Surely it is locked up.”
“I found a window not properly latched at the back, and managed to unlock the kitchen door. We can go in that way.”