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Sunday afternoon, 5 August 1821
Although my heart was not in it, I passed the long Sabbath morning in Aunt Martha’s musty-smelling bedchamber meticulously sorting through her things. Although the old lady seemed pleased that I was there and happily dogged my footsteps, a part of me felt like an intruder as I closely examined each and every article sitting atop every table and shelf in her suite in order to determine whether or not the object could be deemed a treasure.
At the outset, every item I picked up prompted Miss Martha to ask, “What are you looking at now?” My reply would generally be a short description of the article, information that I was also jotting down. She would then tell me where the piece came from, whether or not it had been a gift when she acquired it, and who had presented it to her.
Actually, her remarks did rather help with my assessment, especially if the item were above a century old. Given that my experience in this sort of work was, in fact, limited, I sincerely hoped my assessments were not too terribly wide of the mark. Mr. Phelps seemed to think I was sufficiently qualified to undertake the task he had dispatched me to perform, so I told myself I should have more confidence in my ability to perform it.
I did, however, note that both the old lady’s bedchamber and her sitting room were more sparsely furnished than any other room I had entered within the large house. To say truth, both chambers in Miss Martha’s suite were less finely furnished than my own pretty home in Mayfair. The vast assortment of useless clutter strewn about added to the overall impression that both chambers were inordinately small.
Plus, the presence of a small dog, who I assume had been given to the old lady to keep her company. However, it appeared the animal had not been closely watched, or let out when it needed to be, for pungent remnants of its misbehavior had been deposited here and there. In less than a quarter hour I took the liberty of flinging open the windows in both the bedchamber and the sitting room. Did not a housemaid ever enter Miss Martha’s suite in order to clean up after the dog, or even to make use of a feather duster? But then, of course, one had been here, although not recently, for sitting on a small table near her bed was a vase containing a handful of rather wilted blossoms. Still, I wondered that Isabella had not thought to call for a servant to clean up after the dog since she declared she spent a great deal of time with her aged aunt.
At any rate, leaning on her cane, the frail old lady hobbled a few steps behind me as I slowly worked my way about her bedchamber. It was furnished with an old-style four-poster bed sans canopy, as well as several other rather scarred pieces of furniture. Lying across the foot of the bed, I spotted a long-handled bed warmer similar to the one in Lady Medley’s room, although the brass lid of Lady Medley’s bed warmer was intricately engraved whereas Miss Martha’s was not.
“What do you have there?” Miss Martha asked, squinting at the long-handled object I was turning over and over in my hands.
“It’s your bed warmer, Miss Martha.” I laid it back down. That it was old was clearly evident, that it had no value was also evident.
When I noticed the old lady had turned to the commode beside the bed and was now bent nearly double over it, both hands feeling around on the surface of the table, I asked, “Would you like me to help you find something, Miss Martha?”
“Oh, no, dear, thank you. I’ve not lost anything; I’m just reminding myself what is here.”
“Oh.” I smothered a grin, although there was no need, for she would have not been able to see my smile if it spread completely across my face and lit up my eyes.
Apparently the novelty of having human company today (rather than simply her four-legged friend) quite pleased Miss Martha. Having satisfied herself in regard to exactly what items lay atop the commode, she again fell into step beside me. When I approached her dressing table and reached to pick up a stunning ruby-red perfume bottle with delicate brass fittings, she told me it was given to her by a German prince.
“BROTHER TO QUEEN CHARLOTTE, he was, although . . . ” she paused to think, “I cannot recall his name. The queen bore fifteen children, you know. I daresay I am exceedingly happy I did not marry her brother. There’s no saying how many children I might have borne. Of course, they would have all been royal, but, I expect that is neither here nor there, is it?”
It was not long before I noticed that Miss Martha’s tales began to repeat one another. When I picked up a small porcelain rabbit with pink spots dotting it, she also said it was a gift from Queen Charlotte’s brother.
“I told him I would never part with it. And, indeed, I have kept it these many years.”
“It is lovely,” I said, admiring the rabbit. “I have never seen one quite like it.”
Miss Martha’s eyes lit up. “Would you like to have it, dear?”
“Oh, no; I couldn’t.”
“I insist!” She attempted to press the porcelain bunny, nearly the same size as a real rabbit, into my hands. “You admire it; you must have it. After all, I can no longer see it.” She chuckled.
Even as I considered her logic, I protested, “I really shouldn’t.”
“Of course, you should. It is yours! I insist,” she said again.
“Thank you, Miss Martha. I will cherish it always. For the nonce, however, I shall leave it right here.” I carefully placed the rabbit back on her dressing table.
She seemed satisfied. “For you to have the spotted rabbit now will please both me and the prince.”
LATER, UPON MOVING into Miss Martha’s sitting room, I was taken aback to find the small room dwarfed by the presence of a full-sized sedan chair complete with two long poles, taking up a good deal of space in one corner. Walking over to more closely examine the green and gold conveyance, Miss Martha told me the chair had been presented to her as a gift from an earl when she was a girl of seven and ten.
“I was in Bath for the summer and he began to court me. I recall he was very handsome, and for a time, I confess I was quite smitten.” Her tone softened as she continued. “I told him I would keep the chair with me always. And, as you can see, I have kept my word. The earl made me promise to think of him when I was carried about town.”
Smiling, I said, “I wonder that you do not make use of it now. A brace of footmen here at Medley Park could carry you into the drawing room, or the dining chamber, in your own private chair. You would look like a queen!”
A WIDE SMILE APPEARED on Miss Martha’s wrinkled countenance. “How delightful, Miss Abbott! I shall do that very thing!”
I came upon a number of other ancient items in the old lady’s sitting room, including a portable rosewood Harlequin desk that stood on claw feet fashioned from brass, although the balled feet were now more green than gold. The cabinet itself was inlaid with a variety of exotic woods and despite its age, the small desk was in excellent condition. I determined it would fetch quite a good price if put on the auction block. Miss Martha elbowed her way in front of me to point out that the desk had a secret compartment where she told me she had hidden letters from her beaus when she was a girl. When young, the sweet old lady must have led an interesting life, I thought. I wondered now why she never married one of her many suitors.
A good bit after the noon hour, Miss Martha declared she was feeling drowsy and hobbled over to her chair where only moments after settling into it, her deep breathing told me she had nodded off. Taking advantage of the opportunity to work alone and far faster, I made notes regarding her impressive collection of intricate blown glass figurines and several sets of pretty enameled boxes with delicate pictures decorating them picked out in gold. Moving back into her bedchamber, I was intrigued by a tall three-tiered mahogany case clock that stood in one corner of the room, and which Miss Martha had earlier told me played twelve musical tunes. She had also already shown me a painted tea-box with raised gilt edges. The interior was lined with red velvet and there were three compartments inside for two types of tea and one for sugar. However, when she began to tell me that the tea box had been given to her by the same German count who had gifted her with the ruby-red perfume bottle, I confess I did not listen as closely to the same tale told twice.
A bit later, Mrs. Bertram entered the room carrying a tray containing a bowl of what looked to be rhubarb soup, accompanied by a boiled egg, a piece of cold chicken and toast for Miss Martha’s luncheon. At work in the adjoining bedchamber, I could hear the two of them conversing and when I joined them, the attractive housekeeper informed me that the family had only just returned from services in the village and that luncheon was now being set out in the small dining chamber. Due to the length of time it had taken the family to journey into the village and back again, Mrs. Bertram apologized for the fact that luncheon today was being served far later than usual. Mrs. Bertram offered to sit with Miss Martha whilst she ate, but Miss Martha declined the invitation, and before the housekeeper and I left her suite, the old lady reminded me to take the porcelain rabbit with me when I departed.
I did so and on the way from the room, Mrs. Bertram remarked upon Miss Martha’s lovely gift to me. “I have long admired the spotted rabbit myself,” she said as we approached the stairwell where I hurried up to my room to wash my face and hands before returning back downstairs to the dining chamber to take luncheon with the family.
Throughout the small meal, which consisted of the same light fare that Mrs. Bertram had brought in for Miss Martha, conversation around the table was inordinately thin and what was said came from Miss Hutchens. A pious look upon her plain face, the governess seemed intent upon reciting very nearly the whole of the reverend’s sermon. I thought it odd that the entire family including Lord and Lady Medley merely listened without speaking a word of censure. Not even Cecil, who had recently referred to the governess’s virtuous lectures as claptrap, said anything. However, since I knew that the youngest boys had not attended services with their parents, but had been invited to take luncheon with the family, perhaps Lord and Lady Medley believed a recitation of the Sabbath sermon would in some way benefit them.
Whilst Miss Hutchens preached, I entertained myself noting what Hannah and Isabella, and also Cecil, were wearing today. The three, as well as Lady Medley, looked splendid in their Sunday finery, which made me feel especially dowdy in my serviceable frock of brown fustian. Before the meal I had donned a clean pinafore so did not feel quite as frumpy as I did whilst working, yet dressed as I was I knew I more closely resembled a servant than an invited guest. However, I was not wearing a cap and as always, wisps of my honey-blonde hair persistently escaped the confines of the knot at the nape of my neck. Every time I moved my head, I could feel curly strands of hair grazing my cheeks. But, since no one had so much as noticed my presence, perhaps it did not matter what I wore or how I looked.
As the recitation of the sermon finally wound down, the boy’s nanny Mrs. Burton, a portly woman with snow-white hair, arrived to collect the youngsters, who after dutifully kissing both parents on the cheek, departed with their nanny. As the children exited the room, I was certain I detected a collective sigh of relief. Or perhaps the relief was due more to the fact that Miss Hutchens had now fallen silent. At any rate, Cecil and Lord Medley began to speak.
“I mean to send the constable on his way this afternoon,” Lord Medley announced. “Talk amongst the gentlemen in the village today centered around the band of gypsies in our midst, one of whom I am persuaded is responsible for killing the stable lad. The constable shares my views, therefore, I am convinced the murder mystery here at Medley Park has been solved and there is no further need for the lawman.”
“But what of my missing jewelry, sirrah?” an indignant Lady Medley exclaimed.
Not looking up from his rhubarb soup, her husband replied, “Clearly the work of a housemaid, or a footman, my dear. Between the pair of us, Cecil and I should be able to run the thief to ground. What say you, Cecil? Are you up for a bit of sleuthing?”
Cecil’s black head jerked up, a look of eagerness upon his handsome face. “Indeed, sir. I daresay I am as capable as the constable of prying truth from the lips of the servants. I paid close attention to the manner in which Constable Wainwright proceeded and can see no reason why I should not be entrusted with the case. With your leave, sir, I shall make every effort to solve the puzzle straightaway.”
“Very well, then. Henceforth I shall leave all such criminal matters to you, young man.”
“Perhaps Miss Abbott would agree to assist me?” Cecil cast an eager look my way. “I say, are you up to helping me with the investigation, Miss Abbott?” He favored me with a grin. “Jot down answers and what not.”
“Miss Abbott has work aplenty,” Lord Medley cut in, still not raising his eyes from his plate. “Once the library is vacated, I mean to set her to work in there. I’ve hundreds of volumes to catalogue, some quite rare. You and Bertram, or even Wink, may question the servants in my study. I expect one will confess soon enough and there’ll be an end to it.”
Oh, if only it were that simple, thought I, glancing up as I nervously worried my lower lip. As yet, neither Lord Medley, nor the constable, were aware of what I had overheard the conspirators discussing the previous evening in the courtyard. As things now stood, I was the only other person in the household, save the devious pair, who knew that another tragic death was in the offing. I still had not settled upon whom to alert to the dreadful news.
As it happened, when the meal concluded, Lady Medley and I both exited the dining chamber at very nearly the exact same moment, therefore I leapt upon the opportunity to speak with her.
“Might I have a private word with you, please, Lady Medley?” She looked lovely today in a stunning gown of pale blue silk, a rope of pearls dangling from around her neck; pearls which I assume were not pearls at all, given that all her fine jewelry had gone missing. However, the paste copies looked quite splendid. Had I not known they were not the genuine article I would never have taken them for replicas.
“Indeed, you may, Miss Abbott. How are things progressing in Aunt Martha’s suite?” She laughed. “It would not surprise me if Miss Martha were completely unaware of your presence. The dear old lady and her little lap dog, sleep quite soundly and quite often.” She smiled down at me as we headed for the drawing room.
Because I had noted that several other members of the family were also walking that direction, I rushed to say, “Might we speak alone, please, madam? Perhaps, in the solarium?”
“If that is your preference.” We both turned to head the opposite direction. “I daresay you are quite arousing my curiosity. I do hope you have not encountered some sort of difficulty with Aunt Martha.”
“No, ma’am; none at all.” I sucked in an anxious breath. “What I have to say concerns something that . . . occurred last evening, something I believe I must bring to your attention.”
“Oh, dear. I do hope Cecil has not acted in an . . . ungentlemanly fashion towards you. I cannot help but notice the admiring looks he directs your way.” She smiled. “You are a very pretty girl, Miss Abbott.”
Feeling my cheeks redden, I ducked my head. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Your hair is such a lovely color, and your eyes are as green as the sea.”
“Thank you,” I murmured again, despite my breath growing ragged.
We had entered the solarium and being the last to enter the room, I softly closed the door behind us.
“Oh, dear, me; I am genuinely alarmed now.”
Inhaling several deep breaths, I rushed to convey all that had transpired last evening. I concluded by producing from my pocket both copies I had made of the clandestine conversation I had overheard in the courtyard.
“I made a copy for you, and one for . . . either Lord Medley, or Constable Wainwright. Before the constable leaves the premises, I thought perhaps he might wish to attempt to discover the identity of the conspirators.”
Whilst reading the words, I noted the color drain from Lady Medley’s lovely face. “This is indeed quite alarming, Miss Abbott. Of course, I shall pass along your note to my husband.” She cast an anxious glance at me, then lowered her eyes again to scan the page. “It is possible the constable will wish to consult with you before he departs. Perhaps something he says might jog your memory a bit more.”
My heart sank. I most certainly did not wish to speak with Constable Wainwright ever again. If the man’s brusque manner of interrogating me in the past, not with questions, but with outright accusations, still ran true to form, he’d waste no time in insisting that I was the murderer, the conspirator and the thief.
“I have truly relayed to you all I recall, madam. I-I really should return to my work now.”
Her concerned countenance softened. “You are a very industrious young lady, Miss Abbott. My husband is most fortunate to have found you. I am certain he is appreciative of your work, although I . . . rather doubt he would ever say as much. I do thank you for bringing this distressing news to our attention and I will most certainly pass it along.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I hurried back to Miss Martha’s suite, which was not a great deal further down the corridor. The elderly woman obviously had a difficult time getting around, so I assume that explained why her apartment was located on the ground floor. From both chambers of her suite, the windows overlooked the gravel drive in front of the house, rather than inward onto the courtyard.
I found old Miss Martha sitting in her chair, her white head resting to one side upon the bolster, her eyes closed in slumber. The luncheon tray sat on the tea table near her elbow; her cane had fallen to the floor at her feet. A glance at the soup bowl told me she had eaten a good bit of it, but had only nibbled at the chicken and the toast. On a small saucer were a few crumbles of the boiled egg and remaining bits of the green leaves upon which the egg had been served. I wondered that the dog, now also curled up asleep on the cushioned seat beneath the window, had not finished off the small meal. In my limited experience with the mongrels who roamed the Abbot family farm near Morland Manor, a dog would lap up just about anything left unattended.
However, not wishing to disturb either Miss Martha or her pet, as I was in hopes of completing my inventory of the contents of her suite that afternoon, I set at once to work. A part of my mind, however, remained alert for the sounds of a scratch at the door, which would mean that either Lord Medley or the constable had sent for me. But as the hours wore on, to my immense relief, such a summons never came.
As the light of day began to diminish and it became difficult to clearly see the notes I was writing, I realized I would not be able to complete my task today and would therefore be obliged to return here for at least a few hours on the morrow. Standing on a stool to return a pair of finely illustrated books of poetry to the top shelf of a somewhat rickety clothespress, I noted a pair of traveling cases tucked into a far corner, although the one in front appeared to be empty as both sides of the case lay slack. After returning the stool to where it belonged, I stooped down to push aside the folded-up coverlet that obscured the second valise from sight. It was far older than the first, a bit tattered and in places, even torn; however judging from the bulging sides, it was clearly full of something.
Reaching to grasp the leather handle, I hefted the quite heavy container from the floor and set it down before my feet. Kneeling, I undid the leather straps, thinking that if Miss Martha were awake I would far rather ask her what the case contained before I dug around inside to see for myself. Quite possibly it contained items she had saved from days gone by, letters from a school chum, girlhood drawings, or pressed flower petals from a posy given to her by a beau.
However, as the daylight both inside the room and out-of-doors was fast dimming, before I pulled apart the flaps of the case and peeked inside, I rose to retrieve a fresh candle from the sitting room where I had left Miss Martha fast asleep in her chair. Part of me hoped she might open her eyes now and I could inquire of her what the old valise contained before I snooped around inside it. Yet, even as I fished a fresh candle from the small basket on the table beside her and stood there whilst fitting the fire stick into the holder, then crossed the room to tip it toward the low-burning candle in the sconce on the wall, Miss Martha did not stir. I even exhaled a rather noisy sigh in the hope of awakening her. When she still did not stir, I carefully shielded the flame with one hand as I carried the lit candle back into the bedchamber. Glancing ahead toward the spot where the valise sat upon the floor, I could see that in my absence the topmost flaps of the aged portmanteau had fallen away on their own. Drawing nearer, the bright light cast from the flame in my hands clearly illuminated the contents of the bag.
“Oh!” My eyes popped open as the exclamation of surprise fell from my lips. Miss Martha is possessed of a great deal of fine jewelry! Setting the candle down on the floor, I reached inside the cloth bag and gingerly withdrew necklace after necklace; the first one a shiny gold creation that shimmered with glittering pink gemstones; the next one of platinum with an enormous blue sapphire surrounded by dozens of sparkling diamonds hanging from it. Intricate facets of all the fiery stones, garnets, rubies, and emeralds twinkled in the candlelight. I undid a bit of cloth wrapped about an enormous diamond ring, then another and another. There were brooches and pins, bracelets and earbobs. Brilliant flecks of color from the magnificent gems danced upon the walls. Never in my life had I beheld such stunning finery! A part of me rejoiced that Miss Martha was still sound asleep, otherwise it would be hours before she could relay to me all the stories associated with each and every piece of her extensive collection of precious jewels.
Sitting back on my heels, I considered what to do next, then upon realizing that I was simply far too weary to linger here another minute I decided to leave off now and return on the morrow to complete my inventory of Miss Martha’s things, which given that I had found this treasure trove would quite possibly take the entire day. Carefully, I rewrapped each and every necklace, ring and brooch back up in the scrap of cloth that held it, then gently nestled each and every piece back inside the case exactly as I had found it. After closing the leather straps, I lifted the heavy valise back into the far corner of the clothespress and fastened the doors shut. I glanced about for a key but did not see one. Had I been in possession of such a costly treasure, I would most certainly keep it under lock and key. Especially given what had recently happened to Lady Medley’s jewels.
Now, however, I was far too exhausted to think of anything beyond the hours and hours of rest I hoped to enjoy tonight. After dinner, I would head straight back up to my bedchamber and settle in for a long night of sleep, hopefully as sound as the slumber Miss Martha, and her pet, had enjoyed this entire afternoon.
* * *
SUNDAY EVENING, 5 AUGUST 1821
At dinner that night, I was so very tired I could scarcely hold my eyes open despite the conversation around the table being brisk and animated. Because I had hardly eaten anything all day, I ate heartily and especially enjoyed the rhubarb pudding seasoned with ginger and other spices. Once again, Lord Medley dominated the dinner table talk, which mainly centered around the investigation he and Cecil had conducted that afternoon amongst the servants.
“I daresay we’ve spoken with every last maid and footman,” Cecil said, his tone sounding a good deal less enthusiastic than it had several hours earlier. “Of course, the stable lads and the men who take care of the hunting dogs have not yet been questioned.”
His lordship scoffed. “What reason would any one of them have to enter the house?”
“Well, someone did enter the house!” Lady Medley countered. “All of my jewelry has gone missing and if it was not taken by a servant, then it was obviously taken by another person, one who had no reason that I can see for being within the house! It could very well have been one of the men who look after the hunting dogs! Or, anyone of the stable hands, for all that.”
I was again seated beside Hannah. The chair on the other side of me where Miss Martha usually sat was empty tonight. Thus far, the old lady had not appeared in the dining chamber. I had rather expected to see her arrive being carried aloft in her sedan chair. However, when she never appeared, I assumed she was still napping. The family did not remark upon her absence so I also said nothing. Now, I quietly remarked to Hannah. “Miss Martha is possessed of a great deal of fine jewelry. Apparently the thief did not take a bit of hers.”
Hannah’s dark head whirled toward me, a look of surprise on her pretty face. She quickly turned to address her mother. “Miss Abbott says Aunt Martha is possessed of a great deal of fine jewelry, Mama.”
The elegant woman cast a perplexed look my way. “A great deal of . . . but, that cannot be! To my knowledge, Aunt Martha is possessed of no jewelry at all! Charles . . . Miss Abbott says that Aunt Martha . . .” Lady Medley again turned to me. “Miss Abbott, did you actually see Aunt Martha’s jewels, or did she merely tell you that at some point in her illustrious past she once possessed . . .?”
Blinking myself alert as all heads turned toward me, I replied, “I-I saw Miss Martha’s fine gemstones for myself, madam. She keeps them within a valise inside her clothespress. I truly did not wish to sort through the case without first speaking with her, but, Miss Martha spent the whole of the afternoon sleeping and I did not wish to awaken her so I . . .”
Lady Medley had already lurched to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping against the polished wooden floor. “Charles! You will come with me at once, sir!”
Wearing a put-upon look on his face, Lord Medley rose somewhat laboriously to his feet and on his way from the room, bellowed, “Miss Abbott!”
I started, but also rose. Without being directed to, both Cecil and Hannah did the same and we all trouped down the corridor to Miss Martha’s suite. Half way there, we everyone heard Miss Martha’s lap dog yapping from the other side of the closed door. Upon reaching the door, Lord Medley flung it open and ordered his son to take out the dog. Cecil bent to scoop up the noisy creature and in the same motion handed it off to a nearby footman. “Take out the dog; there’s a good fellow!”
Inside the room, Lady Medley hurried to the clothespress whilst Hannah walked into the sitting room, I presume, in search of her aunt.
“Miss Abbott, where exactly is the valise you saw?” Lady Medley asked over one shoulder as she opened and then peered into the tall piece of furniture.
I hurried that way and had very nearly fallen to my knees when Cecil appeared behind me. “Allow me, Miss Abbott.”
I stepped aside. “The jewelry is within the valise tucked into the rear, sir, the one partially hidden behind the coverlet.”
At that instant, Hannah rushed in from the sitting room. “Mama! Papa! Aunt Martha looks odd! I do not believe she is breathing!”
Lord Medley appeared to have not heard his daughter’s alarmed cry and instead continued to lean over Cecil’s shoulder as that young man drug the heavy valise from the back of the clothespress; and upon falling to his knees, released the straps. Leaning in for a closer look, Lady Medley gasped the instant she saw what was inside!
“My jewels! They have been here all along!”
Cecil looked up. “But how could Aunt Martha have . . .?”
“Mama, Papa!” Hannah cried, a good bit louder this time. “I fear Aunt Martha is dead! She is not breathing!”
“Do be still, Hannah,” Lord Medley grumbled. “The old girl is probably fast asleep.” He continued to paw through the jewelry. Pulling out a ruby necklace, he handed it up to his lady wife. “Indeed, these are your jewels, my dear. This is the very gee-gaw I purchased for you a twelvemonth ago in Town. I recall I gave eighty pounds for that little . . .”
“Mama, please!”
“I will be there in a moment, Hannah. Where is my diamond ring, Charles? The one you . . . oh, there it is! Gracious me, I cannot fathom how Aunt Martha managed to . . .”
At this point, Hannah began to cry. “Mama! Papa! Aunt Martha is dead!”
Cecil glanced up at me. “Will you please go and check on Aunt Martha, Miss Abbott? She has always been a sound sleeper.”
I took Hannah’s hand and together we entered the sitting room where I had earlier left Miss Martha fast asleep in her chair. One look at her slack-jawed face, the tissue-paper skin now the color of ash, told me the dear old lady had, indeed . . . departed this world.
I reached to touch her cheek with a finger, my other hand lifting one of hers. Her hand, as well as her cheek, felt quite cold.
“Oh, dear. It does, indeed, appear that your Aunt Martha is . . . no longer with us.”
With a fresh cry of alarm, Hannah slumped onto the window seat, both hands covering her face as wrenching sobs overtook her.
Thinking it best to alert Lord and Lady Medley to this new turn, I hurried back into the adjacent room where they were still exclaiming over the treasure trove of formerly missing jewels.
“Lord Medley,” I began, “Miss Martha has indeed passed away, sir.”
All three family members glanced up.
“Aunt Martha is dead?” Cecil repeated.
I nodded. “Apparently she passed away peacefully in her sleep.”
Lord Medley got to his feet. “Was she asleep when you left her this afternoon, Miss Abbott?” Long strides carried him into the sitting room as Cecil, Lady Medley and I followed in his wake.
“Yes, sir, actually she was already fast asleep when I returned from luncheon this afternoon, and thereafter, she did not stir for the remainder of the time I was here in her bedchamber.”
“Did she not awaken when you departed this evening?” Lady Medley asked.
“No, ma’am.” I shook my head. “I did not wish to awaken her, so I gathered up my papers, and quietly took my leave. When I left, she was as you see her now, although . . .”
“Although, what?” demanded Lord Medley, his face a scowl as he whirled to regard me.
Once again, I very nearly jumped out of my skin. “I . . . she, what I mean to say, sir, is that her color did not appear quite so . . . ashen at the time.”
At that moment, we all heard an odd noise coming from within Miss Martha’s bedchamber, and a half-second later, a sharp rap sounded at the door to the sitting room.
“Cecil, see who it is!” barked his father. He turned back to his sister as Cecil jumped to do his bidding. “Appears she did not eat a great deal of the soup,” the older man observed. “Was this only just brought in this evening, or is it the remainder of her luncheon?” he asked of no one in particular.
Although the question had not been put to me, I replied to his lordship’s query. “Mrs. Bertram brought in the tray earlier this afternoon. It was she who told me the family had only just returned from services and that luncheon had been set out in the small dining chamber.”
“And then what happened?”
“I left the room. When I returned, Miss Martha was fast asleep,” I said again.
Just then, Cecil returned carrying the dog in his arms. It promptly jumped to the floor, then with a whine, gave a single leap up and onto its mistress’s lap.
“Poor thing, it knows she is gone,” Cecil murmured.
“The dog’s name is Toby!” Hannah cried as she rose from the window seat to move closer to her aunt’s side. “He is probably hungry.” She picked up the lunch tray and set the whole thing down on the floor for the dog. It began to hungrily lap up the soup and gobble down the remains of the chicken and the egg as the family all turned their attention back to Miss Martha.
“Well, it appears there’s nothing for it but to send for the vicar,” Lady Medley remarked crisply. “Charles, you must dispatch several footmen to carry her body to a carriage and transport it straightaway to the church in Stoksey; or do you think it best if we lay her out within the Medley Park chapel? After all, she is a Ruston.”
“Quite true, my dear. The chapel will serve. Footmen can sit with her by turns during the night. Tomorrow is soon enough to send for the vicar.”
“Papa! Look at Toby!” Hannah cried as she fell to her knees beside the little dog. “He has suddenly taken ill!”
I glanced down at the dog in time to see that it appeared to be convulsing. White foam had gathered about its mouth and its insides were violently quivering. After emitting another pitiful moan, the dog collapsed, its head thumping against the floor. One hind leg gave a final twitch, after which the animal lay perfectly still.
“The soup!” Cecil cried. “The soup has poisoned the dog!”
Stricken looks appeared on all our faces.
“Aunt Martha ate the soup,” Hannah said woodenly.
Lord Medley turned a scowl on me. “Did you see Miss Martha eat the soup, Miss Abbott?”
Once again, my heart plummeted to my feet. “N-no, sir, I . . . I did not actually observe her eating the soup. When I returned from luncheon . . .” I repeated what I had earlier told his lordship, “. . . she had already fallen asleep, or . . . perhaps she was . . .” I paused, unable to state the obvious, that the old lady was quite possibly already dead when I returned from luncheon to resume my work.
“And you did not pause to check on her!” the angry man sputtered.
“Charles, Miss Abbott was not instructed to look after your aunt. She spent the afternoon seeing to her work, did you not, Miss Abbott?”
I nodded weakly. “Yes, ma’am. Later, after I removed the pair of valises from the clothespress, I realized I was far too weary to carry on any longer tonight, so, not wishing to disturb Miss Martha, I crept from the room as quietly as I could without awakening her.”
“And the dog, where was the dog at that time?” his lordship asked.
“He was curled up asleep on the window seat. Any noise I may have made did not disturb either of them.”
“Why, pray, did you not summon a servant to remove the dish of soup this afternoon?”
“Charles,” Lady Medley again interrupted. “To call for the luncheon tray to be removed was also not a task assigned to Miss Abbott. She attended to her work as instructed. Besides, if you had not sacked Aunt Martha’s maid the other day, she would have been right here in the room with your sister and she could have seen to her needs!” Her ladyship paused for breath. “Miss Abbott did locate all of my missing jewelry so, in my estimation, she is to be congratulated for that. Your sister was an old woman, dear. If she had not expired due to something in her soup that did not agree with her, she would have soon passed away due to old age. There is nothing to be done for it now. You will leave off badgering Miss Abbott for any sort of imagined lapse on her part when quite obviously none exists.”
I desperately wished to express my gratitude to Lady Medley for coming to my rescue but given the dire circumstances, I refrained.
Lord Medley’s lips thinned. “Well, I daresay the old girl will be missed.”
“But, Papa!” Hannah cried. “Someone poisoned Aunt Martha!”
“We do not know that for a certainty, Hannah,” her brother said. “We all ate the soup for luncheon and not a one of us fell ill.” He moved to give his younger sister’s shoulders a squeeze. “I seriously doubt poison killed our auntie, perhaps the milk in the soup had just gone off. Perhaps the boiled egg was spoilt. There are a great many things in a kitchen the size of ours that could taint one’s food. I seriously doubt poison would be administered to an old lady of a purpose. Who would want to do away with Aunt Martha?”
“But, the dog . . .?”
“If the milk in the soup was blinky . . .” He shrugged. “Who would want to do away with Aunt Martha?” he asked again.
My brow furrowed. Had Lady Medley not yet relayed to his lordship the contents of the note I gave her after luncheon?
I could no longer remain silent. “Sir,” I began, “it is my belief that, for whatever reason, Miss Martha was indeed . . . poisoned.”
That gentleman’s balding head again jerked toward me. “And what makes you so certain of that, Miss Abbott? A rather rash assessment, I daresay!”
I directed a questioning look at Lady Medley.
The elegant woman sniffed. “I quite forgot to give you this, sir.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the note I had presented to her earlier this afternoon. “Last evening, Miss Abbott overheard a . . . a pair of conspirators, servants, perhaps, whispering in the courtyard. One of them mentioned . . . poison.”
“What’s this?”
Lady Medley passed the note to her husband, who pulled a thick lens monocle from his waistcoat pocket and held it up before his eyes as he slowly scanned the page. After reading the note, he directed another scowl my way. “This is absurd!”
“What does it say?” Cecil reached to grasp the paper from his father’s hand. After reading it, he exclaimed, “I stand corrected, Hannah. It does, indeed, appear that Aunt Martha, and Toby, were poisoned. The question is . . .why?”
Lady Medley huffed with exasperation. “Well, we shan’t solve the puzzle by standing here talking about it. Charles, will you please summon a footman to carry my jewels up to our suite at once? Henceforth, I mean to keep them locked away and carry the key on my person.” She turned to head briskly back into Aunt Martha’s bedchamber. “I shall wear the key on a chain beneath the bodice of my gown at all times.”
At this juncture, I could think of nothing to say. But, before I could give the matter a great deal of thought, we were all interrupted by a series of shrieks delivered in a pitch that rattled everyone’s nerves.
“My jewels! Charles! My jewelry is gone! Every piece of my beautiful jewelry has been stolen . . . again!”