A Pinch of Poison

by Alyssa Maxwell

  An act?

  “Let’s slow down for a moment.” Phoebe almost reached out to comfort the girl, but resisted the urge. She hadn’t gotten her answers yet. “How did you persuade Miss Finch to make the changes?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Zara, you just admitted—”

  “That is, I appealed to Miss Sedgewick, and she said she would manage it. I don’t know how she did. I only know my marks improved greatly, and that the reports sent to my parents assured them all was well.”

  Phoebe leaned back and exhaled a long breath. Miss Sedgewick—all along. She and Eva had initially suspected the woman of altering Zara’s marks, but the evidence in the records had pointed to Miss Finch.

  Ah, but there had been Miss Sedgewick’s expensive clothes. “Zara, did you bribe Miss Sedgewick to do it? Did you offer her gifts or money?”

  “I didn’t need to. She was perfectly willing.”

  “Are you certain?” The sharpness of Phoebe’s tone made Zara recoil.

  “Quite certain,” she said in a small voice. “My parents don’t send me enough money to bribe anyone.”

  That would be easy enough to verify. “And are you sure you don’t know how Miss Sedgewick persuaded Miss Finch to change your marks?”

  When Zara shook her head, Phoebe believed her readily enough. It would have been a detail that didn’t interest the girl. Zara wanted one thing only—to stay in her parents’ good graces and remain at school. How that happened wouldn’t have concerned her as long as she had her way.

  Phoebe went to the dresser and found a pile of fine linen handkerchiefs in the top drawer. She plucked the top one and brought it to Zara. “Here, dry your tears.”

  Zara gazed up at her. “Are you going to tell my parents?”

  Weary, Phoebe sank onto the bed again. “Honestly, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t suppose it would help to add to their troubles, under the circumstances.”

  “You mean because of the loss of our money.” Twisting the handkerchief between her hands, Zara stared down at her lap. “It’s so humiliating. Life is over for me.”

  This time Phoebe didn’t resist the impulse to press a hand to Zara’s shoulder. “Zara, no doubt there will be changes in your life, but perhaps you’ll find your parents have more resources at their disposal than it seems just now. Either way, you’ll be all right. You’re stronger than you know.”

  Did she believe that? Zara’s history of unkindness toward the other girls, especially those of meeker dispositions than her own, and her willingness to cheat rather than work toward her goals indicated a shallow nature, weak character, and profound unhappiness. Amelia insisted Zara had changed of late. Phoebe hoped it was true, and hoped a bit of encouragement might help Zara develop the confidence to believe in her ability to prevail.

  If not, her life would be as difficult as Zara feared.

  Phoebe hugged the girl and helped arrange her pillows and coverlets before turning out the light. Back in her own room, she found Eva waiting patiently. Phoebe gestured for her to remain seated when Eva started to rise.

  “I’m not sure I learned anything we didn’t already know or suspect,” Phoebe told her. “Zara did, of course, have a hand in the altering of her marks, but she did so through Miss Sedgewick. Miss Finch changed the marks, but at Miss Sedgewick’s urging. And Zara doesn’t know how Miss Sedgewick coaxed Miss Finch into cooperating.”

  “Are you sure she’s telling the truth about that?”

  “Fairly certain. It makes sense. Zara wouldn’t care how or why she got her way, only that she did. She would naturally gravitate toward the younger, prettier, more fashionable Miss Sedgewick, and it isn’t a stretch to imagine Miss Sedgewick being all too willing to ingratiate herself to an earl’s daughter.” Phoebe paced the room and stopped before her dressing table. She leaned over the bench to run her fingers over the sterling-backed mirror.

  Behind her, Eva said, “Miss Sedgewick abhors Elliot. And she obviously wants the headmistress position enough to have resented Miss Finch.”

  Phoebe straightened and turned back around. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I believe I am, my lady. Miss Sedgewick must have discovered the truth about Elliot. She might have overheard something, perhaps Miss Finch talking to Mrs. Honeychurch in the kitchen, and used the information to blackmail Miss Finch.”

  Phoebe shook her head, unsatisfied with that conclusion. “Blackmailing Miss Finch to change a student’s grades would have been a poor effort on Miss Sedgewick’s part. She must have demanded something more from Miss Finch.”

  “Miss Sedgewick’s clothes, her perfume. She must have demanded money.”

  “Of course.” Phoebe crossed the room to her and sat beside her. “Miss Finch was paying Miss Sedgewick off, which accounts for her having to actually bring Elliot to the school as a handyman. She probably could no longer afford to keep him wherever he had been living prior to his mother’s death.”

  “Miss Sedgewick didn’t like that, though, did she, my lady?”

  Phoebe sat back against the settee. “No, she did not. She wanted Elliot gone, or so she said. But perhaps Miss Finch decided to stand up to Miss Sedgewick and not be bullied any longer.”

  Several moments passed in pensive silence. Gradually, the excitement of their deductions waned, and Phoebe wondered if perhaps they had assumed too much. Neither of them particularly cared for Miss Sedgewick, which made it all too easy to assign blame to her. She hadn’t liked Zara much either, initially, but now saw past her faults to the apprehensive and insecure girl within.

  “Are we inferring too much?” she asked. “I believe Zara about the marks. I even believe Miss Sedgewick used some sort of trickery to persuade Miss Finch. But it might not have been any more sinister than Miss Sedgewick reminding Miss Finch of where their most generous donations came from, and that it was she, Miss Sedgewick, who secured those donations.”

  “Then we are back where we began, my lady.”

  Phoebe nodded slowly. “Indeed we are. With a handful of suspicions and no clear trail leading to anyone.”

  * * *

  The jingle of a bell the next morning sent Eva from the servants’ dining hall up to Lady Julia’s room a good hour before her ladies typically needed her. She was surprised to find Lady Julia already out of bed and in her dressing room.

  “Help me on with my riding habit and fix my hair, please, Eva. I’m going for an early ride.”

  Skepticism held Eva in the doorway. “We haven’t riding horses in the stables, my lady.”

  “Yes, I realize that, Eva,” she said with a dash of impatience. She held up a beribboned top hat and plucked at the veil that hung down the back. “A friend is coming to collect me in his motorcar and we’ll set out riding from his stables.”

  “Will you be breakfasting first?”

  “No” came the terse answer.

  Why did Lady Julia seem to want to escape the house before anyone saw her or made inquiries into her plans for the day? Who was this friend coming to collect her? Eva thought back to when she and Phoebe had swerved to avoid the fast-moving motorcar driven by Theodore Leighton, newly made Marquess of Allerton. A definite possibility. As far as Eva knew, the Allerton stables hadn’t been emptied of its horses during the war as Foxwood’s had.

  Lady Julia and Theodore Leighton. A rather pleasant thought, except for that one detail Eva knew carried great weight with Lady Julia—Lord Allerton’s lack of fortune. Then why did she continue the association?

  Eva went into the dressing room and reached into the large armoire for the black broadcloth riding jacket and skirt. She selected a blouse as well, with a high collar where she would affix the cameo Julia had inherited from her maternal grandmother.

  “Will this do, my lady?”

  “Very nicely, thank you.”

  She spent the next quarter hour helping Lady Julia into her riding attire and fixing her hair beneath the stylish hat with its wide band a
nd mist-fine netting. “Your gentleman friend will think you most becoming today, my lady.”

  Julia turned to pin her with a hard stare. “What makes you think it matters if the gentleman with whom I’m riding finds me becoming or not?”

  Eva smiled and tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Forgive me for guessing as much, my lady, but you have been rather mysterious lately. And that would seem to indicate a special gentleman in your life.”

  Lady Julia stepped closer and startled Eva by seizing her wrist. “See here, Eva. Whom I ride with or shop with or anything else is my business. You’re not to go telling tales, especially to Phoebe.”

  “My lady, I would never.”

  “See that you don’t. I have my reasons for secrecy—” She broke off and turned away, but not before Eva glimpsed a glitter of tears. Lady Julia prided herself on remaining cool and in control around people, and her loss of it now frightened Eva.

  “My lady, what is it? I’d never betray a confidence, I promise you.”

  Her back turned, Lady Julia took two steps away, leading Eva to believe she wouldn’t reply. But in a wavering voice, she said, “You know my grandmother wishes to marry me off as soon as possible, and to the highest bidder.”

  “I wouldn’t put it as severely as all that, my lady. Your grandmother wishes you to be happy.”

  “Does she?” Lady Julia pivoted around to face her. Tears stood suspended in her midnight blue eyes. “In an ideal world, perhaps. But she’s determined that Fox inherits an intact estate, and unless my sisters and I marry well, that won’t happen.”

  Apprehension gathered in Eva’s stomach. “What do you mean, my lady?”

  “Phoebe and Amelia don’t know this and you are not to tell them. Grams confided in me some months ago. You see, the money isn’t as it was before the war. Taxes, disappointing investments, lost productivity on the home farm—it’s all taken its toll. Which saddles my sisters and me with the responsibility of making financially significant marriages.”

  “And this gentleman you’re riding with today?” Eva felt nearly certain she already knew the answer. “Will he not do?”

  “No, Eva, he will not.” Lady Julia looked away again and sighed heavily. “Do you remember that talk we had last Christmas, about my ideal husband?”

  “I do, my lady. You said he must be handsome, well educated, rich, and above all, someone you can respect.” Eva smiled gently.

  “Yes, well. The man I would most wish to marry is handsome, at least in my eyes, well educated, and more than worthy of my respect. But rich?” She shook her head. “I can never marry him. Eventually I must break it off and marry a”—she shuddered—“a Wally Bagot.”

  Eva reached out to touch her fingertips to Lady Julia’s cheek. “Oh, my lady . . .”

  Lady Julia ducked away. “I must be off before the others are up and about. Remember, not a word of any of this to anyone. If anyone asks, simply say I had a longing to ride again and arranged to borrow a horse from one of the local families. If they don’t believe you, too bad.”

  With that, Lady Julia strode from the room, her netted veil floating out behind her. Eva followed at a slower pace, closed the door behind her, and nearly yelped to discover Amelia standing like a wraith in the dim corridor. On closer look Eva saw she was already dressed for the day.

  “Where was Julia going in such a hurry?”

  “Uh, she had . . . em . . . plans . . .” Eva stammered.

  Amelia stepped closer to her. “Never mind. I believe Jane just left the grounds. Again.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.” Amelia leaned past Eva to open Lady Julia’s door and practically pushed Eva inside. “Jane was late to breakfast again yesterday, and when she arrived, she seemed out of breath. I think this has been going on the entire time she has been here, but we only caught her at it the morning you headed her off coming back from her so-called morning walk.” Amelia paused for breath. “So this morning I decided to rise early and keep watch. I went up to the top landing of the back staircase, where I can see out over the dividing hedges. First I saw Jane rushing across the terrace and through the hedge gate, where she disappeared from view. When she reappeared, she was running past the greenhouses and heading toward the orchards.”

  “The same route she took the last time she was late to lessons. What on earth could so hold her fascination with that area of the grounds? The orchards aren’t bearing fruit yet.”

  “Eva, didn’t you hear me? I believe she has left the grounds.” Amelia spoke with a breathy urgency. “I didn’t think of it the first time Jane disappeared, but there is a woodland trail that begins beyond the orchards. It’s a shortcut to the school that bypasses High Street through town, making the way much swifter on foot.”

  “Why would Jane return to an empty school, not once but twice?” It made no sense to Eva.

  “Or perhaps more than twice, and perhaps for the same reason she was often tardy for lessons before school closed. I don’t know what that reason is, but I think we should follow her.”

  “I can’t go running off again.” Eva considered for a moment, and then crossed the corridor to Lady Phoebe’s bedroom. She knocked briskly on the door and said to Amelia, “I have a better idea.”

  * * *

  Phoebe was already awake when Eva knocked on her door, though she had been enjoying a few delicious moments of lazing in her warm bed before fully rousing herself to meet the day. News of Jane Timmons’s latest vanishing act sent her out from between the covers in a hurry. Her first order of business was to use the upstairs telephone to order the Vauxhall brought round. Then she splashed water on her face and dressed hurriedly with Eva’s help. Amelia, meanwhile, rushed downstairs to the kitchen to pilfer some of Mrs. Ellison’s warm scones straight out of the oven.

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into bringing you along.” The wind rushing in through the Vauxhall’s open sides nearly carried her words away unheard. She and her sister had both removed their cloche hats rather than lose them to the gusts. Luckily, no other vehicles occupied the road this early, except for the dairy truck that shambled past in the opposite direction.

  Beside her, Amelia chewed the last bite of her second scone. She raised her voice to be heard. “Because if you’d brought Eva, both you and she would have gotten in trouble with Grams, and because I know Jane better than you do. No offense, Phoebe, but you’ve grown too old to understand people of my age.”

  Phoebe didn’t know whether to scoff or laugh. Instead she let the observation go without comment. She slowed around a bend rather than risk coming suddenly upon another delivery dray. As soon as she had a clear view of the road ahead, she sped up again. Unlike Eva, Amelia didn’t so much as flinch, but in fact raised her face into the scuttling draft with a slight smile on her lips.

  A light morning mist silvered the landscape and billowed gently over the lawns on the school grounds. A few lights shined behind the upper windows, indicating the staff awakening to yet another day of questions and wondering when their students would return. Phoebe wondered, Did any among them know one of their students might have been returning almost daily?

  Amelia peered up ahead. “Do you think Jane is here yet?”

  Phoebe scanned the property. The school chapel stood nestled in trees and foliage in the distance to their right. The woodland path entered the grounds some two dozen yards beyond the churchyard. “I don’t think so. She had a head start but I believe I drove fast enough to get us here before her. At least I hope so.”

  She continued to the old carriage house, partway up the drive and off to the left. They parked behind the building, out of sight. From there they hurried to the house, where they positioned themselves just outside the dining hall, where the shrubbery would shield them from view.

  Amelia leaned against the trunk of an elm and peeked around it. “What do you suppose she does here?”

  “I can’t begin to guess.”

  “How do you think she gets in? I very much d
oubt the front door is unlocked this early in the day.”

  “That’s a good question.”

  Sunlight struggled through the trees. The day promised to be a lovely one once the mist burned off. Movement near the chapel drew Phoebe’s attention, and a moment later a figure emerged from around a tumble of roses and bright yellow forsythia.

  Amelia pointed. “There she is!”

  Phoebe hushed her. “Don’t move. Let’s see what she does.”

  Jane kept well off the drive and picked her way through the shadows beneath the trees. After a brief hesitation, she darted across the drive with so light a step the gravel barely crunched.

  Amelia gasped. “She’s coming this way. What do we do?”

  Phoebe considered. They stood in what had once been an ornamental garden, much like those at Foxwood Hall. Now it served as an outdoor study area for the students. Phoebe grasped Amelia’s hand and drew her behind the box hedge beneath the dining hall windows.

  “She won’t be looking for us here,” she whispered. “And if she does, we’ll simply confront her. But I’d much rather see where she goes first.”

  Crouching against the brick wall soon became uncomfortable. Their hems trailed in the damp soil and prickly bushes snagged their clothing. Jane’s footsteps thudded by, and brief flashes of her light gray coat appeared to them through the foliage. Phoebe waited another moment before struggling to her feet and pulling Amelia up beside her. They shook their skirts to loosen the clinging pellets of earth.

  By the time they eased out from behind the hedge, Jane had disappeared around the rear of the house. They trotted to reach the corner, where Phoebe flattened herself against the bricks and craned her neck to peek around. Jane walked more briskly now, but she hadn’t far to go. She passed the infirmary and came to the conservatory, where the French windows loomed beside her. She went to the center window. The latch turned easily in her hand and she slipped inside.