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Wednesday afternoon, 8 August 1821
A bit later that afternoon while I was still busy conducting my inventory of the valuables in Hannah’s suite, again making certain that the door stood open, Lady Medley advanced into the room.
“I am hosting a special tea for my Ladies Society this afternoon, Miss Abbott, and I would very much like for you to join us. Despite his aunt’s recent death, Lord Medley has agreed that I should continue with my plans. He has also granted permission for me to include you this afternoon; consequently you’ve no need to feel you are abandoning your post. You being down from London means your presence alone will bring a certain je ne sais quoi to my little group. I do hope you will come.”
Looking up, I smiled. “I would be delighted to attend, Lady Medley. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Splendid! Three of the clock, then.”
After working an hour or so longer, I hurried to my suite to change into the same ensemble I had worn to Miss Martha’s memorial service, a pretty afternoon gown with a green checkered bodice and matching green Spencer jacket and green gloves. On the way out-of-doors, I met up with Hannah and Isabella, who accompanied me to an area of the estate that I had not yet had the pleasure of viewing.
“Mother is partial to the side lawn for her special tea parties,” Hannah told me. The pretty dark-haired girl looked charming this afternoon in a gown of flowing gauze with a purple satin sash tied beneath her breasts. She wore a wide-brimmed straw bonnet decorated with dainty clumps of purple violets. Purple and white ribbon streamers fluttered down her back as she walked.
“You look the picture of loveliness today, Hannah,” I said. “As do you, Isabella.” Once again, I was certain the taller girl was wearing a cast-off gown of Hannah’s, to which a contrasting band of darker purple fabric had been sewn onto the hem to accommodate her height. The gown itself was a violet sprigged-muslin with a purple sash. Her bonnet was an old-style flat chip affair, and also featured a clump of purple flowers on the brim, an obvious addition to dress it up although the flowers were a tad too bright to be considered fashionable.
Isabella said nothing, but Hannah replied, “You look very pretty, as well, Miss Abbott. Mother’s friends are all quite looking forward to meeting you.”
“Oh, dear.” A nervous laugh escaped me. “I cannot think why.”
“Mother told them about you after services on Sunday.”
I attempted to swallow past the quiver of anxiety that rose in my throat.
“Mustn’t fret, Miss Abbott,” Isabella said as the three of us stepped onto a wide stone path that led deeper into the side lawn. “Lady Medley will do the bulk of the talking. She always does. I daresay she entertains the notion that having a fashionable friend down from London will elevate her consequence. Not that it requires elevating.”
I made no reply, but I did notice that Hannah cast her cousin a quelling look. I feared I might very well disappoint Lady Medley, for I hardly considered myself fashionable enough to elevate anyone’s consequence, let alone her ladyship’s. I did not belong to a single ladies auxiliary in London and if asked, would have nothing to contribute to a discussion on the topic. My former employer Lady Carstairs had been associated with a good many charitable societies, of course, so perhaps if the need arose, I could summon a reasonable reply if the query were a simple one and I was not asked to supply particulars.
Even as we approached the center of the clearing where a large white tent had been erected and seemed to sparkle in the sunshine, I could see that the wide expanse of greensward surrounding the tent was spotted with tall trees; all with multi-colored flowers prettily encircling every base. Within the tent, a dozen or more uniformed maids and footmen were arranging the crystal and silver, and, of course, fresh flowers, on the eight or ten small tables that had been set up.
Once we three entered the tent, Lady Medley soon appeared, followed by Mrs. Bertram, who also looked charming today in a tan silk gown that could have very well also once belonged to her employer. A fashionable tan silk turban topped Mrs. Bertram’s thick brown hair and she also wore elbow length gloves, as did Lady Medley, who looked stunning in a mauve silk creation that fell in gentle folds to the ground. The third woman of the household, Miss Hutchens, was nowhere to be seen.
“Girls,” Lady Medley addressed our little group. “I would like each of you, and Miss Abbott, to sit at the head table with me. Bertram, you may sit anywhere you like.”
I could not help noticing Lady Medley’s far cooler tone as she addressed the housekeeper and wondered if it meant that her ladyship was acutely aware of her husband’s . . . (ahem) intimate association with the attractive woman, who was clearly several years her junior. Still, in my estimation, Lady Medley’s greater age, perhaps close on to the half-century mark, did not render her the least bit less attractive. In her youth, Lady Medley had surely been a stunning beauty who turned heads wherever in society she appeared. Even now, she was still strikingly handsome.
In no time, scores of matronly ladies began to stream into the tent, all wearing their Sunday best, although not a one of them rivaled Lady Medley or Hannah, or I daresay, even me. All seemed to be nervously chattering at once as they greeted one another, and exclaimed over the lovely table settings and beautiful flower arrangements. Lady Medley made a point of mingling amongst her guests, but did not linger long after acknowledging each one of them.
Once we were all seated, Lady Medley rose and introduced both Hannah and Isabella, and then turned a smile on me.
“This lovely young lady is Miss Juliette Abbott. Miss Abbott is a recent addition to Medley Park, come to us from London. She will be staying for an indefinite length.” She continued to smile down at me. “Although I have hopes of persuading her to linger a good deal longer.”
I hadn’t a clue what her ladyship meant by that remark, unless she was alluding to the fact that she hoped her step-son Cecil might provide me with a reason to permanently abandon my home in London and remove to the country, which to my mind, was not at all likely. Nonetheless, I smiled and nodded all around and was glad when our hostess turned her attention elsewhere.
“Now then, ladies, may I begin by saying that . . .”
From there, Lady Medley launched into a report regarding the doings of her Society To Uplift Wayward Girls and Set Them On the Path to Goodness.
Listening, it occurred to me that perhaps Lady Medley might consider Isabella to be one of her society projects. If what Hannah had just revealed to me were true, and I had no reason to doubt that it was, the family knew next to nothing of the girl’s true heritage. It is possible Lady Medley, known for her soft heart and generous nature, simply could not turn Isabella away and had taken her under wing. That is, until Lord Medley, whose nature appeared to be in direct opposition to his lady wife’s, imposed a time limit on the family’s generosity to the unknown girl. As Hannah did not mention exactly when her father meant to send Isabella packing, I had no way of knowing when the girl was expected to leave. But, perhaps, I told myself, that was something I should endeavour to learn.
Following Lady Medley’s speech, the legion of servants who had stood patiently waiting on the periphery of the tent, moved forward to serve tea from half a dozen sterling silver pots, or lemonade from crystal pitchers, depending upon each guest’s preference, and to deposit silver platters containing crust-less sandwiches, iced cakes and sugary tarts on each and every table. Afternoon tea served al fresco was lovely, and I thoroughly enjoyed the leisurely respite from my tedious work indoors.
At length, however, after everyone had been eating and chatting for what seemed like a good long while, I was surprised to notice Miss Hutchens hurrying across the lawn towards the tent. Mere moments before she slipped onto a vacant chair before a far table, she appeared to only then be drawing on her gloves. Because I could not help wondering what had detained her, on impulse I decided to call Hannah’s attention to the oddity.
Seated beside me, I leaned in to whisper, “I see Miss Hutchens has only just arrived. I wonder what could be the cause of her tardiness?”
Hannah grinned. “The boys were acting out earlier and she made them all refigure their sums and arrive at the correct answers before she dismissed them for the day.”
“I see.” I smiled. “So, you and Isabella are far better at sums than your brothers are, is that the way of it?”
Hannah grinned. “Indeed, although to say truth, Isabella is far better than I. She often allows me to copy her answers. She is especially good at sums.”
“Ah.”
When we had all finished sipping our tea or lemonade, small groups of ladies rose and began to cluster about one another as they continued to natter on. In the ensuing confusion, I noted that Isabella seemed to disappear from sight altogether. Over the heads of the guests, I finally spotted her speaking with Miss Hutchens on the fringe of the crowd, then after glancing about, the girl scampered off toward the trees. Standing in the shadows there, I clearly saw a male figure. Hmmm. Miss Hutchens’ brother, Boyd the gardener, perhaps?
As I had no further opportunity to speak privately with Hannah, I never learned her thoughts on who the mysterious stranger might be.
It was not until I lay in bed that night once again pondering the day’s events that it occurred to me that such a pairing, meaning Isabella and Miss Hutchens’ brother Boyd, in regard to the criminal activity that had beset Medley Park, would decidedly work to each of their advantages. I assumed the gardener was not a wealthy fellow and as for Isabella, having ingratiated herself into the titled family’s home, meant she could have somehow managed to pilfer Lady Medley’s jewels and stash them in the tattered valise, which quite possibly already belonged to her, then hide it inside Miss Martha’s clothespress in preparation for her accomplice in the crime, Boyd Hutchens, the gardener, to cart away. With Miss Martha being very nearly blind, to do just about anything in her presence would likely not be remarked upon. But, what of the poison? Where could it have come from, and who could have put it into the old lady’s soup? And, what really, I wondered, had prompted the deadly action?
A fresh thought caused me to sit straight up in bed.
Miss Hutchens’ brother, being a gardener, was clearly the most likely culprit on that score, as well. After all, a good many plants were poisonous! He would know exactly which plant, and what part of it, the sap, stem, or leaves, would quickly bring on death! Which, now that I thought on it, could very well be the reason why Isabella turned to him for assistance in the first place. If the conniving girl had actually chosen this particular household to become a part of, planning all along to steal from them, and then, without actually having planned ahead to do so, found she had no choice but to commit murder in order to cover up her crime, to administer poison would be a far sight easier than plunging a knife into a living person’s body . . . without their knowledge. The whispered conversation I had overheard in the courtyard clearly bore out my theory. I recall the male conspirator saying that poison would better suit than a gypsy’s dagger.
I let my mind run on a bit longer in this vein. If Isabella had executed the thieving part of the crime, she would have known before leaving for services on that Sabbath morning that I would be spending the day in Miss Martha’s suite. If she became alarmed over the possibility that I might uncover the valise full of stolen jewels, she could have somehow managed to get a message to her partner-in-crime, Boyd Hutchens, before leaving for services that morning. He, now alert to what might come about, could have been watching from some point beyond the opened windows and once he spotted me leave the room for luncheon, he climbed in through a window and administered the poison, and perhaps, even forced Miss Martha to eat the soup before hurrying off.
Because to tote the heavy valise across the graveled drive in front of the house in broad daylight would likely arouse notice, perhaps he intended all along to return once I left the room for the day, to retrieve the bag full of stolen jewels. In the meantime, luncheon was brought in, and as I had not yet discovered the stash, and he was hiding somewhere watching, he would have also known as much.
However, it was also possible that when I returned from luncheon, Miss Martha had not yet expired and was truly only sleeping. Or, perhaps my return interrupted the person, either Boyd or perhaps even Isabella, who was only just then adding the poison to the soup and me entering the room caused him, or her, to hurriedly escape through the opened window. Earlier, during luncheon, Isabella had been calmly seated along with the rest of the family in the dining hall where we all consumed the untainted soup. I had no idea where Isabella or any of the other members of the family, save Lady Medley, who was with me, got off to following the meal. But Isabella certainly had plenty of time to retreat outdoors in order to consult with her accomplice, Boyd, in the crime.
I hugged my knees. Was it possible I had so easily stumbled upon the truth? Was it also possible the second theft of Lady Medley’s jewels, which occurred that night, had occurred simply because I blurted out at the dinner table that I had discovered that Miss Martha possessed a great many valuable jewels? I thought back. Isabella did not rush from the dining chamber along with the rest of us to hurry to Miss Martha’s suite that night, but did she instead, hurriedly slip out to warn her accomplice that the family was even then on their way to Miss Martha’s bedchamber and that the stash of jewels had, indeed, been discovered and he must make off with them at once, or miss the opportunity altogether?
The more I thought on it, the more I became convinced that the scenario I had conjured up could very well be the truth, or at the very least, quite close to it. Based on Lord Medley’s announcement some weeks ago that Isabella was not welcome to stay indefinitely at Medley Park, the poor girl knew her days were numbered. She apparently was also aware that neither of her handsome cousins would be agreeable to marrying her, and to become governess to another family’s children simply would not suit. Therefore, feeling quite ill-done by, she was left with no choice but to take matters into her own hands.
The uncertain piece of the puzzle, however, centered around Miss Hutchens’ brother. If the fellow were already wed, it would mean that he could not possibly be Isabella’s mysterious suitor. On the other hand, wed or not, he could still be her partner in crime. However that had nothing to say to the matter of the stable lad having been killed. What part did he play in the convoluted riddle?
I knew it was far too early to mention any of my suspicions to Cecil, so I resolved to say nothing at this juncture. But, the following morning I was elated when Lord Medley announced that he wished me to begin cataloguing his collection of priceless first-edition volumes in the library.