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FRIDAY, 27 OCTOBER 1820
The next morning was the first time I took breakfast with the family. I chose to wear another of the gowns I had brought with me, a pretty lavender round gown that once belonged to Lady Carstairs’ niece and which I was quite proud of as it was still almost the height of fashion in London. As the three of us, myself, Caroline and Mrs. Collins, descended the stairs and headed for the same small dining chamber on the ground floor where we had taken our evening meal the night before, I could not help smiling as I eagerly looked forward to seeing Mr. Talbot again. How lovely to exchange a few words with him of a morning.
My first surprise as I entered the dining chamber was to discover that breakfast at Morland Manor was not served up by footmen as were other meals of the day, but rather all the hot covered dishes were laid out upon the buffet along one side of the chamber, leaving each guest free to help themselves to whatever they liked. Footmen were present in the room, of course, to serve tea or coffee, and I discovered it was also entirely proper to ask one of them to bring a dish to the table so that one could enjoy a second serving of something they particularly liked.
My second surprise was noting the variety of foodstuffs laid out on the sideboard. Being accustomed to the sparse fare served for breakfast below-stairs, such as a simple bowl of oatmeal, or toast and marmalade, or on occasion, coddled eggs and a thin slice of ham, the tasty choices laid out for the Morland family and their guests seemed endless to me. On display were several types of meat, ham, sausages, slices of cold roast beef and chicken, and smoked kippers, as well as steaming platters of eggs done up in a variety of ways, buttered toast, scones, muffins, an assortment of cheeses and fruit compotes, and jellies and jams. The pots of hot coffee and tea sat at the end of the buffet. Next to them were several platters containing more of the dainty fruit tarts and cakes that had been served up last evening in the drawing room. Were a guest to go hungry after leaving the dining chamber of a morning would be their own fault, I concluded.
Upon slipping into a chair, held out for me by a footman, my eyes at once sought out the Morland men. Edward and his father, plus Mr. Talbot and Edward’s cousin, Henry, were seated together near the top of the table, all distractedly engaged in discussing things of import to gentlemen while the female guests were scattered along the sides of the table, nibbling quietly at their food.
Miss Featherstone and her sister, and I, appeared to be the latecomers to the meal, and as we began to eat, I did notice that both Edward and Mr. Talbot managed to aim a guarded glance our way, but neither spoke. Sir Morland, however, continued uninterrupted with his lengthy monologue directed at the gentlemen as if no other party joining those at the table were worthy of any sort of acknowledgment from him, such as politely rising to his feet when a woman entered the room, or uttering a single word of greeting. I have to say it all seemed more than a trifle ill-mannered to me. But, perhaps things were done differently in the country, or perhaps good manners were tossed aside at the morning meal as if everyone were still too sleepy to bother with civility.
But, knowing as little as I did of Sir Morland’s character, gathered from things Caroline and Mrs. Collins had said of him, perhaps this was normal behavior for that gentleman. Apparently for Sir Morland, a new day meant his undivided focus was centered on business and nothing, not even the dictates of Polite manners, would deter him from whatever task he had set for himself for that day. I was fast coming to realize that Sir Morland was not a man to be crossed and apparently not even interrupted by a pleasant “Good morning, sir” from anyone, least of all, a mere female. Consequently, a quarter hour later, when he, seated at the head of the table, concluded his meal by hurriedly gulping down the last drop of coffee in his cup, he abruptly rose to his feet, which to his son, and apparently also to Mr. Talbot and Henry Morland now was a signal to them that they had also finished their breakfast and it was now time to leave the manor and get on with the business of the day.
The four gentlemen rose in unison and without so much as a backward glance at the ladies, all four quitted the room en masse. Quite odd, I thought, but who was I to judge the peculiar ways of my betters? Despite Sir Morland having appeared solicitous, even tender, last evening toward his ill wife, to most all others he appeared distant and aloof and more apt to inspire fear within a feminine heart than invite frivolous solicitation. Not until he left the room this morning did the women seated around the table exhale the tight breaths they’d all been holding and relax enough even to speak to one another.
The collective exhale of breath within the room, some coming from the army of footmen posted here and there like statues, was actually audible. The first thing we ladies wished to know was how Lady Morland fared this morning? Had she slept well? Was she feeling better? I wondered if the new lady’s maid Sir Morland had indicated he would employ had arrived? Who was looking after her ladyship this morning, and should I, perhaps, go up and check on her? All too obvious to me was that not a single woman present at breakfast this morning had dared inquire of Sir Morland, or in his presence, even of his son Edward (the new Morland heir) as to the well-being of Lady Morland.
“Well, perhaps Griggs, or Mrs. Fullerton will know how she fares,” I ventured to remark, although I did not want to be the one to ask if the doing of that task could be avoided. In my estimation Mrs. Fullerton was cut from the same cold cloth as Sir Morland and was not a woman to be approached if it could be at all avoided.
Now that the gentlemen were gone from the dining chamber, pleasant talk among the ladies and even lighthearted laughter very soon dispelled the oppressive gloom that had filled the room when I entered it. I soon learned from Miss Hester Grant that Sir Morland had also presented the opportunity to Edward’s cousin, Henry Morland, to join one of his business concerns, and that last evening, Henry had at last declared himself to Miss Grant. She, of course, had joyfully accepted the long-awaited proposal of marriage, although as Miss Grant did not speak of their plans following the exchange of their wedding vows, I did not learn whether or not the couple planned to also reside here at Morland Manor after they wed.
“We are to be married just as soon as a Special License can be obtained,” she told us, a sweet smile of happiness bringing a blush of color to her pretty face.
“Edward means to obtain one for us, as well,” Caroline put in. “Just as soon as he speaks with my father and all the arrangements have been agreed upon and set down in place.”
I wasn’t certain what sort of arrangements must be agreed upon or set down in place, but then this was the first marriage amongst Quality that I had had a small part in witnessing. For those of us who occupied the lower orders, a young man generally just informed a girl’s papa that he wished to wed the man’s daughter, and then, three weeks after the couple’s banns were posted on the church house door, a lively country wedding took place in the village church, it attended by the bride and groom’s entire families, young and old alike, and all their friends. In my seven and ten years of living, I had heard of a Special License before, I just wasn’t certain what its function was and to whom one applied to issue the thing, or what exactly rendered it so very special. Perhaps I would ask Mr. Talbot to explain it to me tonight. I was also quite anxious to know which of Sir Morland’s many business concerns my Mr. Talbot would be keen on joining, and therefore what sort of work would be filling his days?
Turning my thoughts back to the lively conversations taking place now around the breakfast table, Miss Grant’s mother was mentioning that quite early this morning, Mr. Reginald Morland had hastily departed from the premises. Whether or not he had also been presented with an opportunity to work with his uncle, and had declined, no one seemed to know. I also learned that Miss Banes and her mother, Lady Wentworth, had at last made good on their word and had also departed for London at first light this morning.
“Miss Banes was quite disappointed that Mr. Talbot did not seem as taken with her as she was with him,” Lady Stanhope said.
Though that woman cast a pointed look my way, I said nothing, and neither did Caroline, who was seated to my right. She and I merely exchanged a speaking look and continued to leisurely munch upon a hot buttered scone slathered with raspberry jam and to sip our delicious black tea.
We all remarked upon how delightful it was that the rain had at last let up and the sky above the English countryside today had dawned cheerful and cloudless. The beautiful day was deemed by all as a most pleasant one in which to travel.
“I do hope the weather holds until tomorrow when Edward and I shall be traveling up to London,” Caroline said.
Despite the stilted beginning to the meal, I must admit that breakfast did turn out to be a pleasant albeit lengthy interlude.
Following the meal, Miss Featherstone and her sister and I returned above-stairs to begin packing up their belongings in preparation for their return trip to London early the next morning. I stayed busy alternately folding up various garments, or running up and down the back stairs to take something to the scullery to be laundered, or retrieve something that had already been laundered. Consequently, given how busy I was, I decided that at present, I would not excuse myself to go up and check on Lady Morland. If she wished to see me, she could send someone to fetch me. So long as Miss Featherstone lingered at Morland Manor, my first duty was to her. Besides, with her and her sister both in high alt over all that lay ahead of them, I knew I much preferred to remain in their company than in a dismal room cloaked in the gloom of illness.
“I cannot tell you, Caroline,” Alice Collins addressed her younger sister, “how very proud and happy I am for you and Edward. Father will be elated when he hears the news of your betrothal. You have done very, very well for yourself, my dear.”
Caroline’s eyes actually misted over when she paused in her work. “I confess I love Edward so very much that even if he were penniless, I would still wish to marry him.”
This brought such a burst of laughter from Alice that the unexpectedness of it caused both Caroline and myself to look up in surprise.
“Well, I would!” Caroline insisted.
“You silly girl. You know very well Father would not consent to such a match.” Mrs. Collins turned back to her task of placing their shoes into little bags before settling them into the corners of a valise. “I daresay he might even have second thoughts regarding this match due to the former heir having been murdered on the estate grounds whilst we were here.”
“O-oh, Alice, do you really think he will refuse?”
The older woman shrugged. “It is quite possible. For a certainty once Mother hears of it she will be far from pleased. It does rather make Morland Manor seem a dangerous place in which to live.” With a sniff, Alice crossed the room to retrieve another pair of shoes.
I wondered why she was now being such a down-pin? It was almost as if she were displeased over Caroline’s good fortune in snagging the present heir to the Morland estate. Casting a sympathetic look at the younger girl, I said, “I’d be willing to wager that your mother will be quite pleased, Caroline. So pleased, in fact, that she might even wish to return here with you and take up residence alongside you at the Manor. The house is plenty large enough for several families to live here in comfort.”
“Oh! I had not thought of that! What do you think, Alice? Do you believe Mother and Father would want to give up their home in London and live here with me?”
Alice’s lips pursed. “I daresay I could not hazard a guess on what our parents might wish to do. But, I rather expect not. As you are well aware, Mother is quite attached to Town living and all that it entails, taking tea with her many friends, and what not.”
“Well, then what of you and Richard? And, the . . . babe, once it comes. I should think Morland Manor would be a delightful setting in which your child could grow up. Along with mine . . . of course, when Edward and I . . . start our family.”
This remark brought a blush to Caroline’s smooth cheeks. But, I noticed the suggestion rather brightened the older woman’s countenance, for she actually smiled before replying.
“Why, thank you, indeed, Caroline. I will mention the idea to Richard and see what he thinks of it.”
“Perhaps Richard would also want to take up a post within one of Sir Morland’s business concerns!” Caroline enthused. “What say you to that? Shall I suggest the idea to Edward on your husband’s behalf?”
“Why, how very thoughtful of you, indeed, sister! I can think of no reason at all why Richard would refuse such a kind offer. Our families will both be set. You are very thoughtful, Caroline.”
I smiled inwardly. Quite obvious to me was that the older girl had been wrangling for that very thing but wanted the suggestion to come from Caroline rather than proposing such a wily scheme herself.
* * *
BY LUNCHEON OF THAT day we all felt a bit fatigued and were eagerly looking forward to spending the entire afternoon seated on the terrace at the side of the house in order to soak up the warm sunshine and enjoy the pleasant air. Today was the first in the past several that the weather out of doors was not overly cool, damp or rainy.
Once outdoors, both Mrs. Collins and Miss Grant’s mother, Lady Stanhope, settled down to the bit of needlework they had brought along to occupy themselves, whilst the younger girls, Miss Hester Grant and Caroline, both with sketchbooks and colored pencils in hand, debated on which aspect of the glorious scenery that stretched before them on the Morland Manor estate would be the most picturesque to capture on paper.
“Morland Manor is surely the most glorious spot in the whole of England,” declared Caroline, high admiration in her tone as she, no doubt, happily envisioned herself residing here for the remainder of her days.
“I cannot disagree,” lightly remarked Miss Grant. “I wonder if we might set up our chairs near that stand of chestnut trees, just there?” Pencil in hand, she pointed to a spot some distance from the terrace.
“That will not do at all, girls,” Lady Stanhope remarked, not looking up from her needlework. “Best do your sketching from right here on the terrace where the ground is dry. We do not wish to soil your gowns by trailing them in the mud, or your slippers by treading upon wet grass.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Collins chimed in, “I daresay the ground is still quite wet further afield. One has only to look in any direction from the aspect right here to find any number of pleasing settings, all of which will make lovely drawings.”
“If your sketches are fine enough, or even if they are not,” added Lady Stanhope, “we shall have them framed and you girls can present them to your future husbands as gifts. Your drawings will make for lovely remembrances for the gentlemen.”
As I was not in possession of either a sketchbook or colored pencils, or even needlework, and Meg, who was my one true friend amongst the lady’s maids but for whatever reason, had not accompanied Miss Grant outdoors, meant I had no one with whom to converse. Therefore, I soon grew restless and began to wander away from the others. Although I remained upon the flagged-stone terrace, which encircled the whole house, I knew exactly where I was headed once I descended the steps onto the stone path at the rear of the manor. Looking toward the knot garden, I headed that direction.
Last evening, after having thoroughly inspected Temple’s clothing and not finding a speck of blood anywhere on them I was determined to go into the knot garden today and make my way to the very spot in which the killer had dispatched the Morland heir from this earth. I did not know precisely what I intended to search for; I just wanted to poke around and see what, if anything, I could find. The murder having taken place in the dead of night told me that the killer could have possibly left behind a clue that he was completely unaware of.
It made sense to me that anyone who had just committed a crime of such magnitude would not linger in the area simply to insure that he left nothing behind that might prove incriminating. The killer would instead be intent upon leaving the scene as quickly as possible. And because Constable Wainwright was so insistent upon questioning the entire Morland family and their guests, it occurred to me that perhaps he had not even come back into the garden to comb the area for clues. Therefore, it was quite possible that something had, indeed, been overlooked. And, I intended to find whatever might have been carelessly forgotten, or left behind by the guilty party. Today, with the gentlemen gone from the premises and the ladies busy on the terrace, seemed the perfect time in which to do a bit of sleuthing.
To find the area I was searching for within the tangled paths comprising the knot garden took far longer than I expected, but eventually I came upon the stained patch of ground, made easier to identify by the relic that someone had placed there to denote the exact spot where the heir had lost his life.
As if overtaken by a compulsion to show reverence for the living, breathing being whose life had been so violently taken, I knelt down. Although the heir had been disliked by all and sundry, he did not deserve to die in such a cruel fashion. In seconds, however, I composed myself and rising, brushed the bits of leaves and debris from my skirt as I turned away to look around and see what I could see. If anything.
Glancing about, I noticed that both sides of the path here were obscured by tall, unclipped hedges. Unlike other areas of the garden where the shrubbery had been neatly clipped and trained into identifiable shapes, this section, which lay very nearly at the center of the maze, was a twisted tangle of gnarled branches and intertwined limbs protruding from a variety of tall, leafy, untrimmed bushes, which suggested that this particular area of the garden might have been chosen specifically by the killer because it was so very wild and secluded. Had the killer laid in wait for his victim to join him in this exact spot? Or, did the killer somehow lure his victim to this specific area of the garden, his sinister motive uppermost in his mind? Poking here and there amongst the greenery, I wondered if this area had been left purposely wild and untamed, or had the workers simply not had sufficient time in which to trim it up? I recalled Edward saying his mother had put in the knot garden especially for the house party. Had the gardeners simply run out of time before they reached this area, I wondered?
I attempted to peer through the mass of shrubbery to the other side, and could see nothing but more tangled limbs and branches. It was as if I had stumbled into a thick forest that lay only yards away from the terrace and the huge house. If the heir had been purposely lured to this very spot, it would have to have been by someone familiar with the design of the garden, otherwise in the dark of night, one would be loath to venture this far into the tangled interior. I recalled Edward declaring that he was not at all familiar with the knot garden. And yet, someone was familiar enough with it to know their way around. But, who?
I turned slowly about. The path here had also narrowed from those that led up to it. Here, the dusty lane was wide enough for no more than three persons to stand abreast, whereas at the mouth of the garden, the paths were wider, more generous. If Edward was not familiar with the tangle of paths that comprised the garden, then neither was the heir, therefore it would have been easy for him to become confused if he wandered this far in or had, in fact, been lured, or pursued, by someone through these twisting footpaths. And yet, I reasoned, his killer had to have known the area well, otherwise, he would not have been able to so quickly make an escape once the deed was done.
And, what of the weapon? That night the sumptuous garden was alight with torches, which would make it unlikely that one could enter its paths unnoticed while at the same time carrying a long knife, unless the knife was concealed in some fashion. I looked about for the tall, round posts upon which the torches sat, unlit today, of course, and discovered that above the towering branches here, I could not spot a single pole. Apparently they lay closer to the mouth of the garden where the majority of the guests would have strolled and then upon reaching the darker, unlit interior, they would have been inclined to turn back to those illuminated paths upon which they could better see.
I trained my gaze more closely upon the foliage that lay nearer to where the body was found. As I had earlier thought when inspecting Temple’s clothing, the killer would have had to drop to his, or her, knees to heft the bleeding body over in order to remove the diamond stick pin and pull the ruby ring from the heir’s finger. In the dark. How might that action have been achieved while not getting a single drop of blood smeared upon one’s clothing? Most especially when one could not clearly see what one was doing.
A man would indeed be the more likely culprit since to move a dead body the size of the heir, would take abundant strength. Therefore, assuming David Durham were the guilty party, he could have also more easily managed to emerge unnoticed from the garden, and the entire area, with his clothing completely covered in blood. The knife was conveniently left behind protruding from the victim’s body. All Durham would have had to do is hide himself amidst the bushes here and wait until all the guests had vacated the garden to go into supper before he vacated the grounds and disappeared unseen into the night.
But, if a Morland guest killed the heir, and then thought to casually reenter the ballroom unnoticed, it would be impossible to do so without causing comment or raising horrified questions over the person’s bloodied appearance. I recalled that it was a young lady that night and her companion who burst into the ballroom screaming that the heir had been found dead. Closing my eyes, I thought back. Mr. Talbot and I had been together at the time, high up above the ballroom floor when it happened. I remember I did not know the identity of either of the guests who ran screaming into the ballroom. Did Mr. Talbot mention their names? I could not remember, not that it mattered, I suppose, for they would have been questioned by the constable along with everyone else before being allowed to leave the house, either that night or the following day.
The killer had to have been someone who was not at the ball that night, or someone who was, and who knew their way around the grounds and who could have reentered the house unnoticed. That meant it had to be a servant, or a stable-hand. But . . . all of them had also been questioned. And, a servant had confessed to the crime a few days later. The confession discovered on the heels of her own death, but still, an admission of guilt.
I continued to look about, this time closer to the ground. Perhaps I would find some item that belonged to the killer, which would serve to identify him, or her. Perhaps a button from a coat, or if the pair had fought before the killer stabbed the heir, perhaps a lock of hair . . . or . . . what was that? Just there . . .
Dropping to my knees again, I bent closer to what had caught my eye, bright and fluttering a bit in the breeze. The sun glinting upon the small object had rendered it . . . shiny. I reached for what appeared to be a tiny scrap of cloth that had been snagged upon a twig near the ground. Carefully, I extricated the shiny cloth. Rubbing it between my finger and thumb, I recognized at once that it was . . . silk. The ragged scrap was no more that two inches in length. And, the color was . . . midnight blue.
My heart pounding in my chest, I lurched upward and turned to run in the direction I hoped lay the house.
After several false twists and turns, I, at last, emerged from the garden and bolted toward the huge manor house and entered it by way of the servant’s entrance in back.
I had to find Nancy Jane at once.
Coming upon a chambermaid who was just then entering the scullery, I blurted out. “Do you know where I might find Nancy Jane?”
Before answering my question, the girl bobbed a curtsy, which I admit caught me off guard, but given my recent elevation in status, I suppose her action in regard to me should not have been surprising. It was just the first time it had happened. At any rate, the girl, whose name I did not know, said, “Your cousin went a-lookin’ for you out on the terrace, Miss Abbott.”
“Oh. Thank you, M-Mary,” I stammered. Now, I knew why Lady Morland called all the chambermaids by the same name. I whirled around and had gained the front stairs when I bumped clean into my cousin rushing down them. Falling into step beside her, I breathlessly inquired if Lady Morland had sent for me and should I go up?
“No.” Nancy Jane shook her head. “I come a-lookin’ for ye’ ‘cause me Mum jes’ come up to see her ladyship. Entire village knows she’s ailing and most ever’one is worried about her.” She reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a letter. “Mum said this arrived on the mail coach for ya’. She brung it up with her; said I was to give it to you straightaway.”
“Oh, thank you.” Not the least bit concerned about the letter, I stuffed it into my pocket without bothering to even see who it was from. “There’s something I have to tell you, Nancy Jane. Can we go to your room?”
“Now?” Her eyes became a question.
“Yes, right now. It’s important.”
“I-I suppose it would be all right. Mrs. Fullerton is also with Lady Morland, so . . . she won’t be a-needin’ me.”
We hurried toward the steep back steps that led to the lower floor, then meandered through a long winding corridor to a crowded labyrinth where the cluster of servant’s bedchambers were located, males separated from females, of course. Most of the chambermaids and footmen were obliged to share with one another, but because Nancy Jane had been at Morland Manor quite a spell, she was lucky enough to have been accorded her own room.
“What’s the matter?” she asked mere seconds after we entered the tiny chamber, which was furnished with only a narrow bed, a small cupboard with a porcelain pitcher and washbasin sitting on top, and a single straight-backed chair.
“Close the door, and latch it,” I instructed.
She did and again turned wide eyes on me.
“Do you recall the night that the heir was found dead in the garden and I bumped into you on the stairs after the constable had questioned me? You were carrying Lady Morland’s ball gown draped over your arm. You said she had soiled it and you helped her change into another gown that night. Do you remember?”
Nancy Jane was already nodding. “Yes, but, why . . .?”
“Do you still have the gown?”
She headed across the room. “I put it here in my cupboard for safekeeping.”
“Did she tell you to . . . destroy it, perhaps?”
“No! She gave it to me! Lady Morland always gives her cast-off frocks away. She said I could have me Mum cut it down and make it over to fit me. She said there was enough fabric in the skirt to fashion a new bodice . . .” By now, Nancy Jane had withdrawn the folded up garment, made of midnight blue silk, and carefully laid it upon the bed. “Ain’t it beautiful? So soft and all.”
“It’s very pretty, yes. But, tell me again exactly why she wished to change her gown that night?”
“She said she had spilled red wine on the bodice and perhaps on the skirt, too, and she . . . oh, Juliette! I know what ye’re a-thinkin’ and it can’t be . . .” Nancy Jane’s eyes grew even wider. One hand flew to cover her mouth as she sucked in a horrified breath. “Tell me it don’t mean that Lady Morland . . . oh, it ain’t true!”
Already I had unfolded the garment, but instead of studying the bodice, I was lifting the soft folds of the long skirt and examining the hem of the gown closely as I went. Upon spotting the rent on a panel in the back, near the bottom of the dress, I sat down heavily upon the bed before I’d even withdrawn the tiny piece of matching blue silk fabric from my pocket. Upon doing so, I carefully placed it upon the small hole that had been torn in the skirt of the gown.
The scrap fit perfectly.
Her eyes round, Nancy Jane leaned forward. “W-where did you get that?”
“I found it just now in the knot garden . . . in the exact same spot where the heir was killed.”
She reached to touch it. “I mean, where was it . . . exactly? Where did you find it?”
“It was snagged upon a twig near the ground, as if it had caught there and was ripped from her skirt when she . . . knelt down to remove the heir’s signet ring, or when she rose to her feet to . . . hurry away.”
“But, it ain’t proof that she done it, Juliette! How would she have got out of the ballroom carrying a knife? Oh, dear me, this is awful!”
“Perhaps she stashed the knife in the bushes earlier that day and . . . and, of course, after the deed was done, she left it right where she’d put it. In her stepson’s back.”
Already I was reaching to study the bodice. It had indeed been stained with something that had originally been wet and dark in color. Everyone knew that liquid always puckered silk, which was a fragile, delicate fabric. It was then I recalled that copious amounts of red wine had been served at supper that night. Mr. Talbot said he had consumed a good bit of it. But, during the hours the ball was in progress only amber-colored champagne had been served to the guests. I looked up and into the still horror-stricken face of my cousin.
“Do you recall what time it was when you helped Lady Morland change out of her ball gown?” Without waiting for an answer, I said, “It was sometime before supper, wasn’t it Nancy Jane? And if she told you she spilled red wine on the bodice of her gown, you know as well as I do that red wine was not served . . . until supper. This stain was not made from red wine.”
“Oh-h. It’s his . . . blo-o-od,” she breathed.
“And it got there when she stabbed him in the back and look, here’s more blood on the skirt.” I fingered another puckered area on yet another panel of the long skirt.
“But . . . but what about Temple? Why would Temple say she done it?”
Inhaling a long breath, I shook my head. “I suspect Temple must have found the heir’s signet ring and confronted her ladyship about it . . . then a few days later, Lady Morland, fearful that Temple would say something to someone, pushed her to her death. Lady Morland stood at the top of the stairs and watched her maid tumble and fall, then, she made her way down the steps to place the handwritten confession that she, herself, had written into Temple’s apron pocket, and left her there. Alone to die.”
Stunned, Nancy Jane sank to the floor. At length, she looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “W-what are you goin’ to do now, Juliette? Are you goin’ to tell someone? Who? Who are you goin’ to tell? What will happen to Lady Morland?”
I sorrowfully shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. We have the proof of her guilt right here, but who would believe she committed such a horrendous crime? Who would believe Lady Morland killed two people? And, who’s going to believe me?”
Nancy Jane scrambled to her feet. “We have to get rid of the dress, Juliette. We have to get rid of it at once! We can burn it! No one will ever know if we don’t say anything about this!”
“No!” I snatched the gown from my cousin’s grasp. “If she killed the heir, she must be . . . it is the duty of us all to bring about justice, Nancy Jane. We cannot destroy the only evidence in this crime that has yet been found. We cannot. It would not be right.”
Nancy Jane took a step backward. “Mrs. Fullerton says her ladyship ain’t goin’ to make it this time. She says she’s dyin’. That’s why me Mum come up to see her. Mum ain’t been up here in an age.” Nancy Jane’s eyes were wide as the words tumbled out. “Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. We know that’s true, Juliette. The Lord’s gonna’ take vengeance on her. He will. We don’t have to do nothin’, Juliette. He’s a-goin’ do it for us. Ain’t that right?”
“Yes, that’s right, Nancy Jane. The Lord will extract vengeance upon Lady Morland for killing the heir, and also for killing Temple. In the meantime, we still mustn’t destroy the dress. Promise me you will put it back in the cupboard, at least, for now. And, I promise I won’t say anything to anyone . . . except for . . . Mr. Talbot.”
“But why do you have to tell him?”
“Because he’s my friend and he is also a friend of the Morland family. He’ll know what must be done. And he’ll know how to do it.” I paused. “I definitely do not want to speak to the constable again, not ever, not in the whole of my life. That man will not believe anything I say. He accused me of killing the heir.” I rose to my feet. “Put the dress back in the cupboard, Nancy Jane. And do not say a word about this to anyone. Not one word. For now, it shall be our secret.”
Brushing the tears from her eyes, my cousin began to woodenly fold up the dress. “Even if me Mum did make the gown over for me, I wouldn’t want to wear it,” she muttered.
I stuffed the small scrap of blue silk back into my pocket and murmuring a few consoling words to my cousin, left her alone to compose herself before she headed back up to resume her duties.
It was then I remembered that she had given me a letter, and I had not yet read it.