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Tuesday Evening, 7 August 1821
After dinner that same night, I decided the time had come to speak with my lady’s maid Tilda. Upon retiring to my bedchamber, I gave the bell-pull a tug summoning the girl to my suite.
“Good evenin’, miss.” The cheery little maid greeted me with a smile as she entered my bedchamber. “I ‘pect ye’ must be quite weary with all that’s been a-happ’nin’, plus your work and the service for Miss Martha today.”
“I confess I do feel a bit weary, Tilda, but before you help me into bed, I wish to speak with you about something. Do come and sit down.” I moved to the cushioned window seat, a hand indicating the chair that sat before the desk. “Draw it up a bit closer, if you will.”
Although curiosity registered upon her face, she did as I instructed, however once seated, she blurted out, “Have I done somethin’ wrong, miss?”
“On the contrary.” I smiled. “I merely wish to ask you a few questions.”
“If’n ye’ means to ask me about Miss Martha’s passin’, miss; Constable done asked us. I dinna’ know what to tell ‘im, either.”
From the anxious look on her face, I knew she already felt a trifle uncomfortable. “I hope you and the other servants were truthful with the constable, Tilda. I ask only that you be truthful with me. And, that the matter we speak of . . . be kept private between us.”
The girl was chewing on her lower lip. “I tol’ him I don’t know nothin’ about it, miss. I never even been in Miss Martha’s room.”
In the hope of putting the young girl at ease, I again smiled. “So you are saying the constable questioned you and all the other servants in regard to Miss Martha’s death, did he?”
Her gray eyes now quite wide, Tilda nodded vigorously. “We was all called in together, miss.”
“Ah. Then, I shall say no more on the matter. What I would really like to know is how long you have been employed at Medley Park?”
Relief was evident on her face as she shifted on the chair. “I come here when I was a wee mite. Ten, perhaps nine, I canna’ say for certain. Seems like I been here forever.”
“And, has living here been pleasant for you?”
“Pleasant enough, miss.” Nodding, her limp blond hair fluttered beneath her cap. “Lady Medley is right fair, she is. I’m pleased to have a bed to sleep in at night, and plenty of food in m’ belly, if that’s wot ye’ mean, miss.”
“That is part of what I mean. I also wondered if you have had occasion to be in the company of Miss Hannah, or Miss Isabella? And, do you find them agreeable?”
“They’s nice, too. Especially Miss Hannah.” She grinned. “Most ever’one likes her. I don’t know ‘bout Miss Isabella; she just come here a bit ago.” She paused. “Seems a bit of a odd duck to me. I seen her climb a tree once.”
“Climb a tree?”
Tilda nodded, the hint of a smile playing about her lips. “I thought it a bit unseemly for a young lady to be shinnyin’ up a tree, but, a’ course, I dinna’ say nothin’.”
“Was the girl’s governess Miss Hutchens nearby? I think it quite likely she would scold Miss Isabella for climbing a tree.”
“Miss Hutchens weren’t there, miss.” Tilda shook her head. “It were just Miss Hannah and Miss Isabella in the orchard. They’d been a-ridin’ and was a-wantin’ apples for their horses.”
“And you were also there in the orchard with them?”
“No, mum; we was a-walkin’ on the road. It was Polly’s and my half-day, and we was a-walkin’ into Stoksey when we spotted Miss Hannah and Miss Isabella in the orchard. Miss Isabella was tryin’ to get a foothold on a low branch. Polly called out and asked if she wanted a boost, but I guess the ladies dinna’ hear us. They dinna’ say nothin’. Then Miss Isabella scampered up the tree and tossed some apples down to Miss Hannah standin’ on the ground.”
“I see.” I paused to think. “So, generally speaking, Tilda, do the servants find the children’s governess, Miss Hutchens, agreeable? What are your feelings toward that lady?”
Tilda shrugged. “I can’t rightly say, miss. She’s a bit . . . prim for my taste. Not warm and friendly like you and Miss Hannah. She mostly just says do this and do that, and apart from that, she don’t say much else. Her brother, now he . . .”
“Dickon?”
“No, miss. The other one.”
I sat up a bit straighter. “The other one? I was unaware Miss Hutchens had another brother. Is he also employed on the estate?”
“Boyd’s a gardener, miss. He tends the special plants in the greenhouse and the citrus saplin’s in the orangery.”
“I see.” That Miss Hutchens had another brother, one older than Dickon, meant it very well could have been Miss Hutchens and her older brother I overheard talking, or rather plotting, with one another in the courtyard. I recalled Miss Hutchens was also absent from the drawing room that night. She could have been meeting up with her brother instead of joining the family after dinner.
“Is that all ye’ wanted to know, miss?”
I pulled my thoughts back around. “There is one other person here at Medley Park whom I am a bit curious about. I wonder what you can tell me of Mrs. Bertram? Was she the housekeeper when you entered service?”
Already, Tilda was nodding. “Mrs. Bertram come here a bit a’fore me. I’m five and ten now. I ‘pect Mrs. Bertram ‘as been here a bit longer.”
“And how do you feel about her?”
Again, Tilda shrugged. “She’s kind enough, miss. A good bit happier now than what she used to be, make no mistake.”
When Tilda looked away, I studied her expression and noted several emotions chase one another across her face.
“What exactly do you mean when you say she is happier now than she used to be? To what exactly do you ascribe Mrs. Bertram’s present state of mind?”
“I . . . I dun know if’n I should say nothin’ ‘bout that, miss.”
A sudden shuffling noise from the passageway caused us both to glance that way. I put a finger to my lips while, across from me, Tilda’s eyes widened. When no rap or scratch sounded at my door, and no further disturbance arose from the hallway, I turned back to the young maid whose hands were clasped tightly in her lap.
“You must understand it is not my wish to bring trouble to any one of the servants, Tilda, but Miss Martha’s death has greatly saddened me. I wish only to know how the Medley Park servants regard each of the family members, and also one another.”
The slight girl shifted on the chair. “I-I ‘spose it can’t hurt nothin’. E’ver one knows what’s afoot between Mrs. Bertram an’ . . . an’ his lordship.”
I willed my expression to remain passive despite the admission coming as a shock to me. “You have . . . seen the pair of them together, have you?”
“No; n-not exactly.” She looked down, then back up. “But, he . . . he gives her things. Nice things. Gloves. Sparkly earbobs and a right fancy necklace. She wears it under her gown. But, we’s all seen it and we knows it was him what give it to her.” She grinned. “She thinks no one’s the wiser, but there’s no secrets ‘mongst us servants.”
I leapt on that remark. “Well, if there are no secrets amongst you, Tilda, then do the servants know the truth about what happened to Miss Martha? Do the servants know who put the poison in her soup, if, indeed, it was poison that claimed her life?”
A shadow fell across her eyes. “I don’t know nothin’ about no poison, miss.” She ventured a look up at me. “I know the Cook wouldna’ allow nothin’ to be put in her cookin’. She’s too proud to allow anythin’ like poison to spoil the taste. It weren’t her what done it, make no mistake.”
I stifled a grin. “Very well, then. Were you acquainted with Miss Martha’s maid? Could she have returned to Medley Park intent upon harming her former mistress?”
A stricken look appeared on the girl’s face. “No, miss! I don’t know who done any of it! Besides all that, Miss Martha’s maid is as old as she is, rather, was. She wouldn’t do nothin’ to hurt Miss Martha. None of us would. She was kind to ever’ one. Mostly, we all felt sorry for her. Being left alone and all.”
“But, she was not always alone. Her brother, Lord Medley, often sat with her, did he not?”
The girl’s lips pursed. “That’s what he wanted ever’ one to think. But, when his lady wife thought her man was a-sittin’ with his aunt is when he was really a-sittin’ with Mrs. Bertram.”
I blinked. “I see.”
“You won’t tell no one it was me what said it, will ye’, miss?”
“No, Tilda, I’ll not say a word to anyone. And I do appreciate your candor.”
“My . . . my what?”
I smiled. “Your honesty. I appreciate you telling me the truth, Tilda, and for speaking openly with me. You have my word that I will not betray your confidence.”
“Thank ‘ye, miss.” She smiled with relief. “Ever so.”
Even as we both arose and Tilda began to help me undress, I said, “It is possible that I might wish to ask you another question or two in the coming days. For instance, I cannot help but wonder how the maid Lottie avoided being sacked by his lordship. The girl is . . . not nearly so agreeable as you are, or as some of the other servants are.”
I sat down upon the side of the bed in order to remove my stockings, whilst Tilda hung up my gown inside the clothespress.
“That’s easy, miss. Lottie is a relation of Mrs. Bertram, a niece or somesuch. The rest of us don’t like her ‘cause she thinks she’s above us, but she ain’t. She’s in service the same as we are, ain’t that right, miss?”
“Indeed, that is correct, Tilda.”
After the girl had finished helping me put on my nightrail and turned back the coverlet on the bed, she gathered my small clothes into a bundle to be laundered and departed carrying the wadded up clothing in her arms. I lingered a few minutes longer upon the window seat looking out over the darkened courtyard as I thought over the events of the day.
A good many things had come to light this afternoon, and also this evening, and for the moment I had no one with whom to discuss them. Something told me that Cecil Ruston already knew of his father’s clandestine meetings with Mrs. Bertram, which could be the reason why he said I must leave any objections from his father in regard to me lending a hand with the investigation, to him. Given Hannah and Isabella’s disclosure regarding Lord Medley’s nip-cheese ways, for Cecil to attempt to bribe his father for a favor, such as money, would not surprise me. I only hoped the matter of our secret investigation into the theft and the murders did not lead to more dastardly deeds at Medley Park.
* * *
WEDNESDAY, 8 AUGUST 1821
The following morning at breakfast, Lord Medley instructed me to inventory the valuables in Hannah’s suite. Lady Medley accompanied me to the east wing of the house where her daughter’s suite was located. Isabella’s bedchamber adjoined her cousin’s but beyond the furnishings, which included a small ornate Queen Anne desk, the few remaining items on display in Isabella’s bedchamber, Lady Medley said, belonged to Isabella and did not signify.
Since both the girls and the younger boys were at their studies all morning, I spent the hours before luncheon alone in Miss Hannah’s bedchamber, making certain to leave the door standing open. I had decided that from this day forward, I would make certain that I was never shut up alone in any chamber of the house. My work that morning was interrupted only once, by a pair of housemaids who came in to change the bed linens, fluff the dust from the drapes and feather-dust the furniture. The maids and I scarcely spoke. After luncheon Hannah joined me for a short while before she returned again to the schoolroom.
“Cecil tells me you agreed to help him sort out the puzzle, Miss Abbott,” the pretty girl said as she crossed the room to perch on the edge of the window seat, the window behind her overlooking the courtyard. Both girls’ suites were on the opposite side of the square from mine. As such, I rather expect we could wave to one another from our windows if the sun was not shining directly onto the glass, thereby preventing us from seeing anything beyond the glare on the windows on the opposite side of the house.
“Indeed, your brother did ask me to assist.” I glanced up from the packet of papers in my hands. Hannah’s remark rather startled me, as I believed Cecil meant to keep our liaison private. “Unfortunately,” I added, “I’ve not yet had the opportunity to unravel a single element of the mystery.”
Hannah absently fidgeted with the lace trim on the sleeve of the lavender sprigged muslin gown she wore. Evidently, the women in the family had already put off full mourning, lavender being a suitable color for half-mourning. Perhaps, here in the country, to abandon Society’s rigid rules regarding the period of mourning was not exceptional.
“I do hope that once you and Cecil expose the thief, Miss Abbott, my locket will be returned to me straightaway. I miss it frightfully.”
“It is my hope that all the missing jewelry will be recovered before the thief has a chance to dispose of it. I would like to see every last pearl and ruby and garnet returned to your mother. I am certain she misses all her lovely pieces.”
“Father said that henceforth she must wear the copies.”
“Unfortunately the thief did not make off with the paste copies.” After a moment, I asked, “Was it common knowledge in the household that your mother meant to take the copies with her, rather than the genuine articles when she and your father went up to London for the coronation?”
Hannah did not reply to my query, instead her thoughts seemed elsewhere. “I wonder if we might journey to Hereford and look for my locket in the curiosity shops there?” Her tone sounded hopeful as she gazed up at me.
Instead of pressing for an answer to my query, I replied cheerfully, “I do not see why not. I expect Isabella would like to come along, as well.”
Hannah squirmed on the window seat before turning full around in order to gaze thoughtfully into the courtyard. “These days there is no saying what Isabella would like. She changes face so often I can scarcely stay abreast of what, or who, she fancies.”
After completing the notation I’d been making regarding the small porcelain statue I had been studying when Hannah entered the room, I said, “I was of the opinion that Isabella fancied Ned and also that she would like to purchase a pretty gold locket for herself.”
Turning back around, Hannah sighed. “I, too, thought Isabella fancied Ned, or maybe Cecil, but now she declares she’s keen on another.”
That remark sparked my interest to the point I set aside my work. “Has Isabella revealed the identity of her new suitor?”
Without saying so, I wondered if perhaps one of the footmen had arrested the girl’s notice. I truly did not wish to be suspicious of Isabella, but one never knows what is in another’s heart. If I were to be of any help at all in solving the mystery, I mustn’t shrink from considering anyone in the family, except for perhaps Lady Medley. Or Hannah. The child was not only too dear to consider harming another she would also never steal from anyone as she already had everything she could possibly want, and besides, I did not believe thieving was in her character.
“Oh, I do not believe Isabella truly has a suitor. She can often be . . . fanciful. I daresay she is the sort of young lady who, in the end, will be obliged to settle,” Hannah declared wisely.
Although my brow furrowed, I made no reply to that.
Hannah innocently regarded me. “I am truly loath to say it, Miss Abbott, but surely you have noticed that while Isabella is a dear girl, she is not possessed of . . . fine looks. It was Cecil who said that he thinks poor Isabella will be obliged to settle. He said she should accept the first offer she receives as she might never receive another. The truth came out long before Mama and Papa went up to Town. One night at dinner, Father declared that Isabella could not remain here at Medley Park forever. I am certain Isabella was quite shocked, even though Cecil very kindly offered to help her obtain a post as a governess, or perhaps as a companion to a titled lady. Suffice to say, neither notion pleased Isabella. She scarcely spoke to Cecil, or me, for days after.”
“Why do you think your father intends turning your cousin out? Isabella is clearly a beloved member of the family,” I pointed out.
Hannah exhaled a sigh. “To say truth, Miss Abbott, I do not believe Isabella is a true blood relation. We are not quite certain who she is, actually. She claims to be the daughter, or perhaps, niece, of an aunt of my father’s first wife. But not even Father can sort out the connection. Apparently Bella’s parents have fallen on hard times and they are . . . oh, I truly mustn’t say.” She gazed up at me as if she hoped I would urge her to continue on. “I truly do not wish to cast Isabella in a bad light.”
“No, of course not.” However, I entertained high hopes that she would finish the admission that she had dangled before me.
“You will not remark upon anything I say now in her presence, will you, Miss Abbott? I can trust you, can I not?”
“Indeed, you can trust me, Hannah. I promise to not reveal a single word regarding anything you say to me in confidence.”
“Very well, then. Both of Isabella’s parents are . . . in debtor’s prison. In Birmingham.” Hannah’s blue eyes grew large and round. “They are not traveling on the continent as she likes to put forth. And . . . the truth is, there is no saying when they will be released. She said when the trouble came to light, her parents were locked up and her younger brothers were sent straightaway to the parish workhouse. I believe Isabella may have also been sent there, but she refuses to own up to it. Yet, she somehow managed to escape. Quite possibly through an opened window and then by scampering down a trellis that hugged the side of the building. Isabella is quite a good climber, you know.
“At any rate, she simply appeared on our doorstep one day, and Mama took pity on her. At the outset, Mama said she could become my lady’s maid, but Isabella would have none of it. She insists she is a true blood relation and after assuring us of her mother’s connection to Father’s first wife, she took to calling herself Isabella Ruston, when, in fact, that is not her true surname. To say truth, I haven’t a clue what her surname is. Nor has Father. When provoked, Isabella can fabricate anything on the spot. She has a remarkable talent for fabrication. Her declarations quite amuse Cecil.”
“But I thought at least one of your brothers fancied Isabella.”
“I believe Isabella fancies one of them. She would agree to marry either of them. But, I am certain neither will have her.” Hannah rose and strolled to her dressing table to pick up the pearl-handled hairbrush lying there. Gazing at her image in the looking glass, it decorated with gilt carving, she softly patted her dark locks into place. “I wonder, what you think of Cecil, Miss Abbott? The pair of you were in one another’s company quite a long while following Aunt Martha’s service yesterday.”
“Indeed; we did take a stroll together, which is when I agreed to help your brother . . . sort out the puzzle.”
Smiling sweetly, Hannah turned to face me. “I believe he asked you to help him because he fancies you. Cecil does not often single a young lady out, you know. But he clearly singled you out, Miss Abbott. I am certain it is because he is keen on you. You would agree to wed Cecil if he asked you, would you not?” The smile on the child’s face was both innocent and earnest. “If you were to wed Cecil, you and I could become sisters. Mother believes Cecil fancies you, as well.”
Because I was quite taken aback by this admission, I hadn’t the least notion how to respond.
“Well, what say you?” Hannah persisted.
I cast about for a harmless reply. “I find your brother quite agreeable, to be sure, but . . .”
Her face fell. “But, you do not love him.”
A small smile lifted the corners of my mouth. “Hannah, my dear,” I said rising. “I do not believe this to be an appropriate topic for you and I to discuss. I really must resume my work now, and I daresay it is time for you to return to the schoolroom.”
“Oh, very well.”
Upon being left alone, I wondered if there was a shred of truth to what Hannah had revealed regarding her brother’s feelings for me. Had he sought out my assistance because he truly wished my help in uncovering the guilty parties, or simply because he wished to spend time in my company?
On the other hand, I did believe there was a good deal of truth to Hannah’s remarks about her cousin Isabella. The freckle-faced girl, who all along I had thought did not resemble any one of her Ruston relatives, would most certainly be obliged to settle for the first suitor who offered for her, if one ever did. To that end, it appeared that Isabella had, indeed, set her sights on one of the Medley Park twins, but, according to Hannah, she had changed face and was now keen on another. But, who? And, why had she, thus far, not revealed the gentleman’s identity to her closest confidante, Hannah?
That Isabella, and her family, were in dire straights certainly gave Isabella sufficient reason to contrive a way to obtain what she needed in order to rescue her family from penury, either by marrying one of Lord Medley’s sons, or by some other, more vile, means. If she were presently dreaming up a way to escape from Medley Park, to have a fortune on hand before she fled would certainly prove useful.
Unfortunately, Hannah’s revelation regarding Isabella’s sad situation had provided me with an excellent reason to suspect the girl of taking part in the thefts at Medley Park. But, being a rather slight person, she could not accomplish all facets of the enormous robbery without a helper. So, if Isabella’s new suitor actually did exist, I wondered who might the gentleman be?
I had no choice now but to make every effort to learn as much as I could about the footmen. The simple fact that there were so many of them made my head swim. I also wished to learn more about Miss Hutchens’ older brother, the gardener, since I also thought it possible that Isabella could have teamed up with him. But, that also strengthened the possibility that Miss Hutchens herself could somehow be involved in the wrongdoing.
Of a sudden, the mystery at Medley Park was becoming quite complicated, indeed.