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Friday afternoon, 3 August 1821
Without saying another word, Miss Hutchens also soon departed, leaving only Hannah, Isabella and myself seated ‘round the dining table. Hannah’s blue eyes quickly brightened. “Given that we are on holiday, Miss Abbott, might you and I, and Bella, of course, ride into the village and have a nice walk-about?”
“Oh, indeed! Might we, Miss Abbott?” Isabella chimed in.
“Well, I . . . thought perhaps I might . . . begin my work here this afternoon.”
“No-o!” Both girls cried in unison.
“We cannot go if you do not accompany us,” Hannah pleaded.
“I wish to purchase a new ribbon for my bonnet,” Isabella said.
“Please, Miss Abbott, do say you will come.”
I smiled. “Very well, then. When shall we leave?”
“Now!” Hannah declared, excitement high in her tone.
As one we all pushed up from the table and headed en masse up the stairs to retrieve our bonnets, gloves and reticules. Hannah must have also called for a carriage for, moments later, one stood awaiting us on the gravel drive before the house. Before climbing in, she requested that the hood be let down so that we might enjoy the warm sun on our backs as we drove into the village.
Tooling along the sunny tree-lined lane away from Medley Park, the entire household now rife with the gloom and suspicion that always accompanies a criminal investigation, felt grand, indeed. I wondered exactly which village we were headed for. Thornbury, perchance? Which would put us quite near Morland Manor. Did I dare hope to see anyone in the village with whom I was acquainted? My cousin Nancy Jane, perhaps, who would certainly relay to me the goings-on at Morland Manor. Such as who was there, who was not.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked the girls, who were gaily nattering on and giggling with one another, both obviously delighted to be freed from the schoolroom for the day.
“Shall we go to Hereford?” Isabella asked.
“Hereford is too far away for an afternoon outing,” Hannah protested. “We should go to Stoksey.”
“But there are fewer shops there!”
“What do you care? You haven’t any money!” Hannah laughed. “Neither do I, for all that.” To me, she said, “You will discover quite soon, Miss Abbott, that Father is a bit of a nip-cheese. Thankfully, Mother is the opposite. When at home, she gives me anything I ask for. But, not Papa! He keeps his purse tightly closed, even towards Ned and Cecil.”
“But, Cecil’s purse is always full!” Isabella said. “And, I have found Ned to be quite generous.”
“It is true, Ned is generous, but he is also a spendthrift,” Hannah agreed. “Although both Ned and Cecil’s allowances are as scant as mine,” she told me, “Cecil manages to squirrel away a good bit. Ned is the extravagant one. Plus he constantly attempts to manipulate Papa into releasing additional funds for this or that, and if Papa refuses, Ned schemes to make the extra pound on his own. He declares he has some sort of investment in Town. At least, that is the excuse he gives when he sets out for London. I believe he keeps a ladylove there!” Hannah giggled.
I noted Isabella’s lips firm. “Ned does not have a ladylove in Town! He hasn’t!” she cried. “Your brother is not nearly the scoundrel you think him to be.”
Grinning, Hannah blurted out, “I believe Bella is sweet on Ned.”
“I am not!”
“Then why do you take such pains with your toilette when Ned is home? And, why do you want a new ribbon for your bonnet?” Hannah gazed pointedly at her cousin’s headgear. “That ribbon is not the least bit frayed! Why do you suddenly need another?”
With a sniff, Isabella said nothing, but instead turned to stare from the coach at the countryside we were skimming past.
“I only just gave Isabella a cast-off pelisse of mine that is fashioned from a lovely shade of blue brocade,” Hannah told me. “I expect she wants a blue ribbon to match it rather than the green one now adorning her bonnet.” She turned back to her cousin. “Is that not right, Bella? I daresay you wish to be prepared so that when Ned returns, you will be more apt to garner his notice. Is that not true?”
Since my head was now swimming, I ceased to listen as the girls bantered back and forth the entire way into the small village of Stoksey. I, instead, fixed my attention on the picturesque countryside that lay beyond the rutted dirt path we were traveling. Here and there tidy farmhouses sat, some with rough-hewn wooden fences penning in the occasional cow, or lop-eared goat, or simply enclosing a stretch of cultivated farmland. As our shiny green coach, the sides picked out in gold, sent a cloud of dust flying up from its wheels, ragged urchins raced to the road to wave and call to us. Twice, a straggly brown dog gave chase, then fell behind as the Medley Park coach swiftly outran it.
At length, the elegant vehicle slowed as it drew near a roadside inn with a painted sign hanging from a peg declaring the establishment to be The Ox and Bull. When I spotted the driver of a mail coach toss down a leather bag onto the dusty inn yard, the bag no doubt filled with packages and missives sent from afar, I groaned inwardly as the sight reminded me of the tiresome time I spent traveling on a public coach. As we skimmed on by, I thought I caught sight of a gentleman I took to be Mr. Cecil Ruston speaking with another man just outside the inn door.
“Is that. . .?” I did not complete my question as Hannah had begun to speak.
“There is a lovely tea shop in the center of the village,” she declared. “They serve the most delightful pastries! We must take tea there before we leave!”
“And how shall we pay for our tea?” Isabella grumbled.
“We’ve simply to sign for whatever we wish. The proprietor will send the reckoning to Mama. He has done so before.”
“I did not know that!” Isabella’s tone revealed her surprise over the disclosure.
“It is what Mama does when she and I come to town.”
The Medley Park coach soon drew to a standstill in the center of the village, which seemed far busier than I expected for such a tiny hamlet. Entering the township I had noted three flat-bed wagons slowly lumbering along behind a single horse. Opposite us now, a pair of grays were hitched to a high-sprung carriage, the curtain over the window obscuring the occupants from view. Up ahead, a knot of gentlemen stood before an establishment that dealt in grain and farm implements.
Turning sideways on the bench, our driver gazed down upon us. “Ye’ ladies a-wantin’ to alight here?”
“Indeed,” Hannah replied. “Come along, Bella. Miss Abbott. John, you may fetch us later at the Stoksey Tea Emporium. On the opposite end of High Street.”
A good hour later, after Isabella had, indeed, purchased a length of blue ribbon and Hannah had fingered nearly every item on display in several shops featuring ladies bonnets, gloves and lacy small clothes, she declared a desire to tour the curiosity shop across the way.
“It occurred to me that the thief who took my locket, and my brooch,” she added, aiming a speaking look at Isabella, “might have re-sold them to an establishment that deals in second-hand goods.”
“That is quite possible,” I agreed, thinking back to my recent experience with curiosity dealers in London. “One never knows what one might find in a curiosity shop.”
“You are so very knowledgable, Miss Abbott,” Hannah marveled. “I expect there are a great many curiosity shops in Paris, are there not?”
“Oh, yes, indeed; a great many.”
“You must tell us all about your travels. Isabella and I have never been anywhere, have we, Bella? Oh, I can only imagine what exquisite things one might find in the shops in Paris!”
A bit later, after our excursion to the curiosity shop in Stoksey netted nothing in the way of Hannah’s lost locket or her brooch, she suggested that next week, if the girls were still on holiday from the schoolroom, we might all go to Hereford and view the items for sale within the curiosity shops there.
“I simply must find my locket before Mama and Papa return from London,” Hannah fretted. “Father will accuse me of being careless when he learns I have lost it. And, I am certain he will refuse to allow Mother to purchase another for me.”
I smiled to myself when Isabella did not respond to Hannah’s admission that she had lost her locket, rather than it was stolen, but Isabella was presently not paying a great deal of attention to either of us. Instead, she was intently studying the items on display inside a glass case, her body bent from the waist as she inspected the array of shiny objects for sale.
“Has something caught your fancy?” I asked the red-haired girl.
She straightened. “Oh, I thought, perhaps, I might find a locket that would suit me. One not too terribly dear. I’ve a few cents left in my reticule.” Her red curls bobbed beneath her bonnet. “Perhaps another time. I am most grateful to have found a blue ribbon today and that the reckoning was not beyond my reach.”
“The new ribbon will look lovely on your bonnet,” I said, feeling a bit sorry for the girl, who simply wished to look fetching for her beau, whichever twin it was she fancied. I feared if her sights were set on Cecil, she might very well be disappointed, for I rather expect he would not give Isabella a second glance. Cecil was far too handsome and dashing to pay his freckle-faced cousin any mind. And, now that I thought on it, the same might be said for Ned. I had not yet learned if the young men were identical in looks, as twins often are. If they were, Ned would be every bit as handsome as his twin brother Cecil.
From the curiosity shop, we three slowly made our way along the flagway that was also far busier than I expected it to be. Before we reached the tea shop, Hannah paused to speak to two ladies. After presenting me to both of them, she told me the women were friends of her mother’s who were active in her Society To Uplift Wayward Girls and Set Them On the Path to Goodness that Lady Medley had recently formed at the village church.
Following our tea and dainty cakes at the Tea Emporium in Stoksey, we climbed back into the shiny green and gold carriage and leisurely returned to Medley Park. Hannah, who had purchased nothing for herself, seemed dejected that she had not found her locket in the second-hand shop. Isabella was far more cheerful now that she was in possession of the coveted blue ribbon and was quite possibly imagining how fetching she would look wearing it along with her new, hand-me-down, pelisse. For my part, I had enjoyed our impromptu outing, and bit-by-bit was learning a good deal more about each member of the Medley Park family. However, I had yet to learn all I wished to know of the self-righteous Miss Violet Hutchens, who, to me, oft times seemed quite touchy and short-tempered for one who professed such strong Christian beliefs.
Upon alighting from the coach before the handsome red-brick Medley Park home, we entered the house to find that Lord and Lady Medley had only just returned from their trip to London. From the masculine bellows echoing throughout the corridors, it appeared his lordship was none too pleased over what he learned had taken place in his absence.
* * *
FRIDAY EVENING, 3 AUGUST 1821
At dinner that night, Lord Medley, a large man with a balding pate, was still in a disagreeable frame. Tonight, both father and son wore crisp white shirts with gleaming white cravats tied expertly about their necks. Patterned waistcoats were visible beneath smart cut-away coats; Cecil’s dark blue, Lord Medley’s brown. His lordship’s appearance, however, was marred by the sullen expression he wore as he held court at the top of the table. His beautiful lady wife, Constance, was seated opposite him at the bottom, her lovely face stricken.
A woman of near the mid-century mark, Lady Medley looked stunning in a peach-colored gown of the softest silk. Her hair was a rich dark brown as were her eyes, which told me that Cecil and Hannah must have got their darker coloring from yet another member of the Ruston family, one on the paternal side. His lordship’s hair, what little he possessed, might have once been as black as coal. I had not yet got a good look at the gentleman’s eyes. Narrowed to mere slits as they were now, it was difficult to determine the color. I wondered again if Cecil’s brother Ned shared his twin’s striking good looks?
Apart from acknowledging me when Cecil introduced me to his parents soon after we all gathered in the drawing room before dinner, neither Lord nor Lady Medley had since engaged me in conversation. Which was understandable given the difficult situation the pair had come home to. The murder of any person who resided upon the grounds was not something to be taken lightly.
“I understand the locket and brooch your mother and I presented to you have gone missing, is that correct, Hannah?” her father wanted to know, although he did not look up from his plate as he addressed his pretty, but also quite distressed, daughter.
“Yes, Father. Both have disappeared,” Hannah replied softly.
From her place at the bottom of the table, Lady Medley sniffed but said nothing.
“It is patently clear the thief in our midst has kept him, or herself, quite busy whilst we were up to Town,” Lord Medley declared angrily. “My collection of jeweled snuffboxes has also gone missing. Shouldn’t have left them sitting out. But, make no mistake, I will get to the bottom of it and the thief will be hanged til there’s not a breath of air left in his body!”
“I recall telling you, sir,” Lady Medley spoke up, her tone a trifle weak, “that I did not wish to leave the genuine articles behind, but you insisted I take the paste copies to London. Now, all my precious jewelry is gone!”
Both Hannah, who was seated beside me at the table, and I gasped. “All of it?” I mouthed to her, then cast an alarmed gaze toward Lady Medley and sure enough, apart from a thin gold ring on one finger, no fine jewelry sparkled at the woman’s throat, or her ears, or wrists.
Not only had Hannah’s locket and brooch been stolen, but Lady Medley’s costly jewels were also missing. And his lordship’s snuffboxes.
“One rather expects thievery in Town,” Lord Medley stated, his gaze still intently fixed upon the food on his plate. “In the country, and most certainly in one’s own home, thievery is more often a rarity. Although, what can we expect given the plethora of servants you’ve seen fit to take in, madam,” he grumbled. “This household has become a haven for far too many servants! Depend on it, once the thieving scoundrel has been run to ground, I mean to sack the lot of them and send ‘em all off without a character!”
From behind my chair, I heard an audible gasp coming from the pair of livered footmen hovering near the sideboard. Given the manner in which servants talk, no doubt, the entire staff would soon know that their positions at Medley Park were in jeopardy.
“You may do as you wish, sir,” Lady Medley exclaimed, her tone growing in strength. “But, I insist that every last sapphire, ruby, and diamond of mine be replaced!”
“Impossible!” Lord Medley bellowed, a glare of horror on his face as he regarded his lady wife. “Unless the authorities nab the thief and all your valuables are returned to you, madam, to replace every last necklace and earbob is unthinkable! To do so would be sheer folly and I’ll not consider it!”
“Perhaps the thief has stashed my lovely things inside the house, or on the grounds,” his wife suggested, her chin now raised in defiance.
“And also my locket, Mama. And my brooch.”
“What’s this?” Hannah’s father pinned her with a look. “You’ve something missing, as well, daughter?”
Because the gentleman had only a moment ago mentioned Hannah’s missing jewelry, I began to wonder at his lordship’s state of mind. Had he already forgot that his daughter’s locket and brooch had also gone missing? Or, was he the sort of man who generally ignores whatever his daughter says? Although he was quite angry now, it was beginning to appear that Lord Medley might also be a trifle absent-minded.
“Indeed, it is sir,” Isabella boldly spoke up, gazing at her uncle, “Hannah has lost both her gold locket and her grandmother’s brooch.”
“I did not lose . . .!”
“Girls!” scolded Miss Hutchens, who thus far had said nothing, and had also not taken the liberty of delivering another long-winded sermon before the meal got underway . . . but who was to say what might prompt another one? Or, perhaps she only indulged in that passion when Lord and Lady Medley were away.
Old Miss Martha, seated to my other side, placed a blue-veined hand over mine. “What is everyone saying, dear? I cannot hear a thing.”
Hannah leaned around me to speak to her elderly aunt. “All of Mama’s jewelry has been stolen, Aunt Martha.”
“Oh, my. Has anything of yours gone missing, dear?”
“What of your valuables, Aunt Martha?” Cecil, seated across from us, inquired. “Have any items gone missing from your bedchamber?”
“What did he say?” Miss Martha again turned to me.
Cecil repeated the question, a bit louder this time.
To which, Miss Martha replied to me, “I wouldn’t know if something had gone missing since I can scarcely see what is there, let alone what isn’t. If you will come to my room after dinner, dear, we can search for Constance’s locket in my room.”
Cecil’s eyes rolled skyward as he hailed a footman to come and refill his wine glass. I did not remind Miss Martha that it was Hannah’s locket that had gone missing, rather than Lady Medley’s, whose given name was, indeed, Constance. I had begun to think that even if the elderly woman did hear what I said, it would no doubt fly from her mind at once.
Nothing further was said on the subject of the missing jewelry, or his lordship’s snuffboxes, then Hannah asked, “Did Ned return home with you today, Father?”
Gulping down a mouthful of baked cod, Lord Medley shook his head before replying, “Yes; and no.”
Cecil glanced up. “Say again?”
“Your brother alighted long enough to snatch up fresh clothing, before he set off for Shrewsbury, or Birmingham, don’t recall which. At any rate, some rubbish about placing a wager on a horse.”
“Ah, no doubt, it was a sure thing.” Cecil turned back to his plate.
“For your information, young man, I refused to advance your brother another farthing so he had best hope his wager is a sure thing. How I could have sired two such useless sons is beyond all reason,” he grumbled to no one in particular. “Had I known of the murder investigation and all the other mischief that you, young man, allowed to take place in my absence, I would have also forbid Ned to leave the premises, and you can wager on that being a sure thing!”
“Charles, I do not believe Cecil is to blame for the trouble that has befallen us,” Lady Medley said in quite a steady tone. “Furthermore, I am certain you may count upon Cecil to do all in his power to help . . .”
“At this juncture, we can be certain of only one thing, madam, that your penchant for hiring every penniless ne’er-do-well who knocks on our door is driving this family straight into penury!”
Lady Medley sniffed. “I do not believe things have come to such a dismal pass as all that, dear.”
“Believe what you like, madam. But, mark my words, on the morrow, Medley Park will have far fewer servants than it does today!” Lord Medley glanced up in order to summon one of the half dozen footmen who were hovering over us to come and refill his wine goblet. “I intend to see that both the thief and the murderer are hanged on the village green until every last ounce of breath has left their bodies!” he declared again.
Following that grim pronouncement, very little else was said for the remainder of the meal. On my way up to my suite following the rather unpleasant dining experience, I truly wondered what I had got myself into this time.
I also wondered if it was Ned Ruston I had glimpsed at the inn yard in Stoksey this afternoon. If so, he looked enough like Cecil Ruston to be his . . . well, twin.