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HE BLANCHED. “I SEE.” His shoulders dropped. After a pause, he said, “This does rather put a different complexion on things.”
“Now you understand why I wished to speak privately with you.”
Slowly, he nodded. “Indeed.” He continued to digest the shocking truth, then, at length, said, “Can you be certain of this, Juliette? How did your cousin get the dress? And, when? Could it have, perhaps been worn by someone else, such as Lady Morland’s maid?”
“No. At the time of the heir’s death, Temple was below-stairs with all the other maids. The blue silk gown is the very gown that Lady Morland wore to the ball. I saw it. I noticed what she was wearing from where I stood the night of the ball. She was already in her chamber changing into another gown, one of a similar color, before the heir’s body was even discovered dead in the garden.”
“You are certain of this?” he asked again.
“Yes, I am certain.”
“Why did she not just burn the gown? She could have done it easily enough with no one the wiser and then . . .”
Shaking my head, I half-smiled. “Philip, no fine lady, no matter how enterprising she is, is capable of getting herself out of a ball gown, and into another one, without assistance. That my cousin was there to help her was mere happenstance. Nancy Jane had been dispatched above-stairs that night to help lay out the fires. She appeared in Lady Morland’s bedchamber at precisely the same instant Lady Morland was attempting on her own to remove her gown. Nancy Jane said she seemed quite agitated and of course, offered to help. Lady Morland told my cousin she had spilled red wine upon the bodice.” Shifting a bit on the bench, I looked intently at Mr. Talbot. “But, don’t you see, at that time, red wine had not yet been served to the guests?”
Nodding thoughtfully, his brow wrinkled. “True. The red wine appeared only at supper. I recall because I had been wanting some, and was told by a footman that it would be served with supper.”
I heaved a troubled sigh as he continued to think on all I had told him. I remained silent as I watched conflicting emotions chase one another across his face.
“But, why give the gown to a chambermaid? Why did she not keep it in her room and burn it later?”
“Nancy Jane said she gave all her cast-off clothing to the maids. To treat this gown as if it were somehow special would raise more suspicion than to toss it into the fire. Besides, the burnt remains would, no doubt, be discovered by a chambermaid; or even Temple, that evening or the following morning . . . and raise questions, causing someone to wonder, and even comment on the oddity of Lady Morland burning her ball gown.”
Talbot inhaled another long breath. “The pieces of the puzzle do appear to fit. But, what about her maid, Temple? How, and why, did Lady Morland do away with her lady’s maid?”
“I believe Temple discovered the heir’s ruby signet ring in her ladyship’s jewel box. I saw it there myself. The night Temple’s body was found on the stairs, Mrs. Fullerton asked me to take a tray up to Lady Morland and when I helped her disrobe for bed, she pulled off her rings and told me where to put them. The heir’s ring was right there in the box, which is when I grew suspicious about both the heir’s death, and also Temple’s death. Temple would have also seen the ring in Lady Morland’s jewel box, and perhaps asked about it, or even demanded to know how her ladyship came to be in possession of it.”
I proceeded to tell him that I believed that when Lady Morland realized that Temple knew the truth, she pushed her maid to her death on the stairs and planted the false confession and suicide note in her apron pocket.
“Well, it does appear you have rather cleverly sorted out the details of the mystery.” He sucked in another ragged breath. “Let me think further on what should be done at this juncture. You are right that it would do no good to apprise Sir Morland of the facts. To say truth, I am uncertain he would even believe his wife capable of murder, and even if he did, I doubt he would go so far as to issue a warrant for her arrest. Which is quite possibly what she was counting upon. It is always easy in the country to blame what appears to be a random death upon a footpad, or a wandering gypsy. That sort is always in want of the ready,” he mused.
“And, Temple is not the only servant who has lost her life from an unfortunate fall down a flight of poorly-lit stairs. I wonder that many more servants at Morland Manor have not taken a tumble down those stairs. They are so very narrow, I struggled to get up them carrying Lady Morland’s tea tray.”
Exhaling a long breath, he turned to scoop up my hand. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, Juliette.”
We rose and began to slowly make our way to the front door of the huge manor house on the hill, the house to which I had come fully expecting to pass a dull fortnight in the country.
Once at the door, my companion paused. “Does this mean you will not be staying on at Morland Manor?”
Gazing up at him, I shook my head. “I do not see how I can.”
In a quick motion, he dropped my hand and clasping my shoulders, drew me into his arms. “I will miss you, Juliette. I was hoping we could . . .” He let the remainder of the sentence dangle unfinished.
Hot tears were already swimming in my eyes as I buried my head in his strong shoulder. “I will miss you, as well.”
I felt him kiss the top of my head. “Perhaps we will see one another again some day.”
The pent-up emotion within me rose to such a height I could scarcely speak. “I would like that,” I murmured into his chest.
* * *
MY HEART WAS HEAVY as I lay in my bed that night, my thoughts still churning over the dilemma I found myself in. It went without saying that my faith in the goodness of mankind had been severely shaken. I wondered if I was legally bound to reveal what I knew about the murder at Morland Manor to the authorities here in Thornbury? Or might it serve equally well to pay a visit to Bow Street in London since they were also looking into the case? Or should I forget what I knew altogether and remain silent?
Thinking further, I realized that if Lady Morland were arrested, there would likely be long-reaching effects with disastrous results. Because Nancy Jane was in possession of the incriminating blue silk dress, to keep her out of the investigation was not possible. Then, when Sir Morland discovered the part she played in uncovering the true identity of the killer, what kind of revenge would he extract from the Abbott family? Would he toss the entire Abbott clan from the shabby little farmhouse in which they now lived, since in actuality it belonged to him and sat on his land? Uncle George would be left with no land to farm and Aunt Jane and all my cousins, including Nancy Jane, would no longer have a home. Furthermore, Nancy Jane would also be turned away with no character reference from the Morland family, meaning she could quite possibly never get another post. What then? Mr. Talbot said Sir Morland was a fair man, but from what I had seen of him . . . he was also a ruthless man. Did I dare take the risk of finding out how he would react if his beloved lady wife were accused of murder? Or convicted of two murders as she surely would be?
The mysteries might have been solved, that much was true, but if I said nothing to the authorities regarding what I knew, would justice ever be served? And since Sir Morland was the magistrate in this part of England, could it ever be served? Would he allow it?
The more I thought on it, the more I came to realize that Nancy Jane was right when she pointed out that it was up to God to extract revenge. In truth, I do believe there are two types of justice; that which is dispensed by law and the other, the more lasting sort, dispensed by God. Oddly enough, in this case, it appeared that both sentences carried the same punishment.
Clearly Lady Morland already lay upon her deathbed, which meant that God was already handing down justice for the two innocent lives she had taken. Her life was now being taken from her, and by all accounts, it was ebbing away quickly albeit in a slow, painful fashion. Perhaps this was a far worse sentence than that which would be dispensed by the law, a quick death by hanging. The further and also painful truth was, God’s sentence would have been carried out even if I had not meddled with the matter. Even before I began poking around in the knot garden, His judgment had already been set in motion, and according to Scripture, it was, indeed, swift and sure.
By remaining silent and saying nothing about what I knew, I was leaving Lady Morland’s sentence up to God, and at the same time, keeping my own family safe. Uncle George still had land to farm, and my aunt and cousins still had a home, and Nancy Jane, a post. I was the only one to be set adrift . . . again, but that was by my own choice. I could stay here, but in my heart, despite insisting that I could not stay here so long as Lady Morland lived, everything in me rebelled. I could not stay here. I had to leave and forget all that had happened during the short time I resided here at Morland Manor.
I had no choice.
My path was crystal clear to me now. I had to say nothing, but I also had to leave.
Saturday, 28 October 1820
By first light the next morning, I had packed up my few belongings and when a footman arrived to collect Miss Featherstone’s and her sister’s things, I asked Caroline if I might accompany them up to London. She joyously agreed. Apparently she had told Edward of my letter of the previous day and of the invitation it contained from Cathleen Haworth for me to come up to Town. A bit later, when we all gathered in the foyer, he did not seem at all surprised to see me.
Dawn was only then breaking on the horizon and as we waited for everyone’s bags and valises to be secured atop the heavy closed carriage awaiting us on the gravel drive in front, Griggs stepped forward to announce that he had laid out coffee and scones on the sideboard in the drawing room. The four of us made our way into that chamber. I kept glancing to the double doors in the hope that Mr. Talbot might come down to say goodbye and God Speed, but he did not appear. Not even Sir Morland came down to see us off.
However, Mrs. Fullerton appeared in the drawing room and I heard her tell Edward not to worry about his mother, that she and Doctor Morgan would take good care of her.
Once we received word that all was in readiness with the carriage, we all began to head toward the foyer, and then onto the gravel drive. Suddenly, Nancy Jane scampered through the heavy front door and in the early morning mist, flung her arms around my neck with a cry.
“They said you was leavin’, Juliette! I’ll miss you terrible. But, don’t worry none. Me Mum’s a-goin’ to help take care of Lady Morland. Everything will turn out right in the end, you’ll see.”
I hugged my little country cousin to me. “I’ll miss you terrible, too, Nancy Jane. I’m glad you were here to look after me. You must write and let me know how you are getting on, and . . . and how things are . . . progressing.”
“Oh, I will! I will.”
“God bless you, Nancy Jane. Tell Aunt Jane I said thank you, and . . . goodbye.”
Looking up, I saw that John Coachman was already seated on the bench, his long whip in hand. An outrider was mounting up while a pair of stable hands kept a strong grip on the harnesses of the lead horses, both pawing the ground in their eagerness to be off.
Once we were all comfortably settled inside the big black coach, and it jerked forward, Edward reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small black pouch that jingled with coins. “Mother sent this down for you, Miss Abbott.”
“I told her you were coming up to London with us,” Caroline said. “She doesn’t mind that you are going, truly she doesn’t. She’s a dear, sweet lady.” Her gloved hand clutching the crook of her intended’s elbow, she gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “I am so looking forward to getting to know her even better after we are wed. I do hope she recovers . . . quite soon. Even before we return to Morland Manor.”
Edward glanced down at Caroline. “Now, darling, I have told you what the doctor says. We must prepare ourselves.”
Seated beside me, Mrs. Collins was gazing from the coach window, apparently lost in thought for she was contributing nothing to the conversation.
Before I placed the pouch Edward handed me into my reticule, I drew apart the strings and noticing there was a scrap of paper tucked inside, I withdrew it and quickly scanned the scrawled, handwritten words.
“I am aware that you took a walk in the garden, Miss Abbott. I daresay if you plan to blackmail me, you will not find me at all receptive to your demands. In the meantime, take a bit of advice from a dying woman: Watch your step, my dear. In future, you may find yourself far too clever for your own good.”
“Oh, Juliette, did Lady Morland enclose a little note for you? How very sweet of her! What did I tell you, Edward, your mother is a dear. I love her almost as much as I love you!” She turned back to me. “What does she say?”
I forced a smile to my lips as I slipped the note and pouch into my reticule. “Her ladyship merely said . . . good bye. You are, indeed, a lucky young lady, Caroline. I wish you and Edward a happy, and very long life together.”
With that, I turned and drew aside the leather curtain covering the coach window beside me in order to gaze from it into the misty countryside the heavy coach was now tooling past. For the remainder of the journey up to London, I endeavored to put all thoughts of Morland Manor from mind, and chose instead to think ahead to my own future. Whatever new adventure lay ahead of me, I hoped that at some point, it would also include seeing Mr. Talbot again . . . for he is the only part of Morland Manor that I would truly miss.
~ ~ ~ ~