Only Olivia cared enough to save Mr. Roberts. She must put her trust in the strange man she struggled to understand, and seek out the truth of Major Lovell’s murder.
She was alone at breakfast. There were signs that others had eaten already and gone about their business. There would be a funeral soon. Where would it take place? Who would attend? Did the major have a mother, or sisters to mourn his death?
These were morbid thoughts. It was easier to remember how she’d disliked the man. His lips were too red, he thought too well of himself, and he was rude, but Miss Dainty had been badly affected by his death. She must have seen qualities in him that were hidden from Olivia.
She helped herself to a slice of toast and chewed on one corner. There was more to think about than just Major Lovell’s death. Everything must be connected: Daniel’s death, the injuries to the cow, the attempts to blame James, the items missing from the Hall and the silver comb in the disused, cold chapel. Then there was Grandmother Caxton and her strange house, not to mention Eileen Hodges and the mysterious father of Eileen’s baby. A familiar cold shiver ran down her back. She could no longer make light of events. Something frightening was happening at Thatcham Hall.
Olivia dropped the half-eaten toast on the plate. There was a pattern: a pattern that she must unravel. She would look at every strand of the tangle and follow each one through to the end. Even Mr. Roberts, mysterious and dangerous as he was, was part of the design.
She couldn’t eat. There was too much work to be done. Tomorrow, she’d keep the appointment with Mr. Mellow in London. That left only one day to make progress. She’d begin her investigations, not with the murder, for the constable would be investigating that, but with some of the other events that others had not linked together. The mystery of Eileen Hodges’ pregnancy wasn’t fully untangled. Eileen implied someone from the Hall was the father of her child. Olivia would make another visit to the village and try to find out more.
The street near the baker shop was busy with shoppers, baskets on their arms, gathered in small groups. Shawl tucked tight against a brisk spring breeze, Olivia passed by. Each group stopped talking and glanced her way, then quickly turned back to each other. The murder at the Hall was the only topic of conversation today.
A figure slipped round the corner of the baker’s shop, disappearing up the alleyway that ran at right angles to the main street. Wait. Who was that? She hurried to see. The figure looked back, then ran.
Olivia must catch up. It didn’t matter that she would take the eye of everyone in the street. They were already staring, anyhow. She set off in pursuit. At least these light shoes would allow her to run without breaking an ankle.
She gained on the figure, who looked round again. Eileen Hodges! Her mouth was open with the effort of running.
“Stop!” she cried. “Stop at once.”
Eileen hesitated but didn’t stop.
“Right. I’ll have to catch you, then.” Spurred by anger, Olivia astonished herself with her turn of speed. She gained steadily on Eileen, hearing the girl gasp for breath. At last, she was within an arm’s length. She lunged at Eileen, grabbing her by the wrist.
The girl pulled back, but Olivia wasn’t letting go now Eileen was in her grasp. With one last tug, she twisted her around, so they were face to face.
Neither could speak. Both panted with exertion.
Eileen’s face was bright red, her hair, devoid of any covering, had come untucked from its pins and lay in damp, sweaty strands on her shoulders.
Olivia suspected that she looked no more attractive than Eileen. The village would have plenty of tales to tell, after such an exhibition. Olivia regained enough breath to gasp, “Why are you running from me?”
Eileen glared, her breathing slowing. “I don’t know, I’m sure.” The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop sulking.”
“I ain’t sulking.”
“Well, tell me why you were running.”
Eileen screwed her eyes up. She sniffed, then tucked her hair back into its pins, as though giving herself time to think. At last, she appeared to make up her mind. “I never done nothin’.”
“I never said you did. I just want to talk to you. Are you going to talk quietly with me, or do we have to go on chasing each other up and down the street until dinner?”
“All right.”
Heavens, the girl was bad-tempered. Perhaps that was the effect of her condition. “You dropped your basket.” Olivia pointed a few paces back to where it had tumbled, contents spilling out onto the cobbles. Eileen still seemed too exhausted to walk, so Olivia stepped over and picked it up. It was full of plants.
“‘Ere, let me ’ave that.” Eileen snatched the handle from Olivia’s grasp. “It’s none of your business.”
“I can assure you I have no interest in your purchases.”
Eileen peered at Olivia, distrust shining from narrowed eyes. Why was she so anxious about a handful of plants?
Olivia kept her tone level. “I came to see you because I thought perhaps I could be of assistance, in view of your, er…” Her voice faltered. Well brought up girls—even those with no fortune—didn’t discuss such matters in the street. Still, Olivia had already broken so many of Mama’s rules of etiquette that one more could hardly matter.
Eileen’s face, the picture of angry aggression, made it clear she wasn’t inviting Olivia into the bakery. Olivia shrugged. “Because of the baby.” There, she’d said it, and the heavens didn’t open to punish her with a thunderbolt. Eileen still glared as Olivia continued. “Does anyone else know?”
“My mother. She says I have to go and stay with my aunt until the baby comes and then leave it there. She won’t let me have it for myself.” Eileen’s mutinous frown collapsed as tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t know what will become of me, miss, I don’t really.” She rubbed her sleeve across her face, but she couldn’t hide her distress. The tears fell, rivulets of misery on her cheeks.
Olivia was at a loss in the face of such wretchedness. “Let me walk home with you. I’m sure your mama will want to look after you.”
Eileen shook her head. “She wants me out of the way.” She sniffed again, harder and forced a smile onto her face. The effect was ghastly. “Now, miss, if you don’t mind, I’ve got errands to run.”
Olivia sighed. She was no further forward. She had no time to waste on tact. She took a deep breath. “You must tell me—who’s the father?”
Eileen glared again, lips pressed tight together. Olivia waited, watching, but in vain.
Once more, Eileen’s face crumpled. She burst into a crescendo of sobs, her whole body convulsed and shuddering. Olivia watched in horror. Why was the girl so devastated? Her condition wasn’t new. Since they’d last met, something had happened to cause such extreme distress. The answer struck Olivia with the weight of a hammer blow. She backed away, too shocked to speak. Eileen’s eyes met hers, and Olivia knew she was right. Why else would the girl be in such a state, today of all days? Olivia whispered, her hand at her mouth. “Major Lovell?” The girl’s silence told Olivia all she needed to know.
Eileen backed away, paused as though about to say something else then burst into another flood of tears, turned and ran.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Olivia returned to the Hall, Miss Dainty was drooping, listless, on a settee in the morning room. The pale face and dark rings around her eyes were testament that she, too, had endured a miserable, sleepless night. She tried to smile, but her lip trembled and her voice shook when she spoke. “So you’ve already been into the village? I declare, I don’t know where you find your energy. I could hardly rise from my bed this morning.” She turned her head away, but not before Olivia saw the shimmer in her eyes where unshed tears threatened. “This is a sad affair, is it not? Poor Major Lovell.” Her voice cracked on the man’s name and Olivia knew her suspicions were correct. Lovell, villain enough to have fathered Eileen Hodges’ unborn child, had worme
d his way into Miss Dainty’s affections.
Olivia’s heart went out to her friend. Should she share what she knew of the man’s depravity? Another glance at Miss Dainty’s face was all it took to convince Olivia to hold her tongue. It would help neither of the two ladies he had tricked. Still, Olivia needed to know more about the man. Perhaps that would help her find the real culprit. It took all Olivia’s determination to question her friend. What if Miss Dainty provided information that showed Mr. Roberts even more likely to be the murderer? She took a breath. She must find the truth, however dreadful. “What do you know of Major Lovell?”
“Oh dear.” Miss Dainty rose, walked to the window and looked out. Her voice was muffled. Olivia had to strain to catch the words. “I’m such a wretched judge of character, you know. My brother constantly complains that I care only for looks and address and clothes, and take no regard of disposition. I don’t think he’s right half so often as he imagines, but sometimes, I must admit, I’ve made dreadful mistakes.”
Olivia waited as Miss Dainty, agitated, paced around the room. “Major Lovell used to visit Thatcham Hall when we were children. An old aunt of his lives only a short distance from here, and he is—was—of an age with Hugh.” She buried her face in a lace handkerchief for a moment.
When she raised her head, her eyes were red, but she managed a watery smile as she fingered a locket that hung around her neck. “To be truthful, my brother never took to Major Lovell, but he has always been very kind to me.”
Olivia turned her head away. Miss Dainty was an innocent in many ways, unable to see that a man in need of a wife with charming good looks, a happy disposition and a substantial fortune was likely to be uncommonly kind to such a young woman. Perhaps great wealth and beauty didn’t always bestow happiness on their owner, after all.
Miss Dainty’s words tumbled out with a rush. “When he was older, everyone thought Major Lovell should join the army. His family wasn’t wealthy, although they were very respectable people. Apart from his aunt, whose house he will inherit, he has no living relatives, unless one were to count a distant cousin in the Americas.”
Olivia didn’t think Major Lovell would count a cousin, distant in both relationship and space, as of great importance unless in possession of a large fortune, but she didn’t interrupt her friend.
Miss Dainty twisted her damp handkerchief into a ball. “I don’t believe the army entirely suited Major Lovell. The few times he’s been at Thatcham Hall, he never seemed very happy.”
Olivia felt able to comment. “These aren’t good times to be in the military, I believe. Mr. Roberts said there is a lack of true leadership, and that lives have been lost as a result.”
Miss Dainty didn’t reply. Olivia wished she hadn’t mentioned Mr. Roberts. The room seemed full of secrets. Miss Dainty, stopped her pacing, looked on the verge of saying something, and then glanced away.
A cold shiver ran down Olivia’s spine. Mr. Roberts was just such another young man as Major Lovell. He too, had little family and hardly any fortune. He had only a fledgling career in the law. Perhaps he was as much in need of a wife with independent means as Major Lovell.
If only she hadn’t quarrelled with him. She had fancied her feelings superior to his, when she could have no idea of how much suffering he’d seen and experienced.
She glanced at her friend, and for the first time felt a stab of envy. Behind her pretty face was Miss Dainty grieving only for Major Lovell, or were her thoughts busy, like Olivia’s, with Mr. Roberts? Had her friend turned into a rival?
Olivia should have obeyed her first instincts and refused to come to Thatcham Hall. Events here had shaken her to the core. How happy she’d been, at home in London, if she had only realised. No man mocked her with a sardonic smile, studied her through opaque, dark eyes or offered terrifying glimpses of the anger burning in his heart. Her future as a governess had seemed so far in the distance that she hardly gave it a thought. Like Papa, she’d been sure that one day, she would find a way to become a professional musician.
Well, perhaps it would happen. Tomorrow, she’d travel to London, meet Mr. Mellow and take one step closer to her dream. She should be thrilled and delighted. Instead, she felt sick with terror.
Olivia’s thoughts whirled down a maze of familiar avenues that led nowhere. The axis of her world had shifted; things would never be the same. Was there a way through the tangle? She must find a moment of peace, to think. “I’ve forgotten my reticule,” she muttered. Without waiting for a response, she ran up the stairs, not caring whether her friend was offended or not.
There was only one place to find quiet. She listened outside the door of the music room, praying John wasn’t inside, struggling through his scales. All was well. There was no sound. Olivia slipped inside and took the familiar seat at the piano, lips trembling. She pressed them together and sorted through the popular songs, waltzes, polkas and quadrilles on the stand. None were appealing today.
She tossed them aside and played from memory. The notes of Für Elise echoed through the room—the music she’d played for Mr. Roberts. Olivia stopped abruptly, fingers hovering in the air. There was no more time to waste. The most important thing was to prove Mr. Roberts innocent.
Someone else was responsible for Major Lovell’s death, though there were only small shreds of information. First, there was Major Lovell’s character. He was capable of any amount of cowardice and dishonourable conduct. He was the father of Eileen’s child but hadn’t owned it. He remained in the army but appeared to spend his days carousing with his cronies. Last but not least, he’d been most unpleasantly drunk last night.
The stolen items were still missing. Eliza, the scullery maid, insisted that Eileen Hodges was behind it. Perhaps Olivia should confront the baker’s daughter and wring the truth out of her.
Wait. There was something else. With a cry, Olivia leaped to her feet. How could she have been so foolish? She could prove Mr. Roberts’ innocence straight away. He’d been with her in the garden when Major Lovell’s body was found. She bit her lip. It was wrong to be alone with a man in the dark. If the world were to find out, Olivia’s reputation would lie in tatters. But, as she had it in her power to clear Mr. Roberts of suspicion she must act, even if that led to disgrace.
Lady Thatcham sat reading in her private parlour as Olivia entered. “Excuse me, my lady?”
Lady Thatcham wore a troubled frown. And her book was upside down. “Can I help you, Miss Martin? These are terrible times, are they not?”
“I must speak to you about Mr. Roberts.” A blush of shame burned Olivia’s cheeks, but she couldn’t stop now. “You see, he couldn’t have killed the major.”
“Indeed? I don’t think he did, and nor does my husband, but we have no proof. Do you?”
Olivia couldn’t meet Lady Thatcham’s eyes. “Yes, my lady. At least, I know he was in the grounds of the Hall last night, not following the major.” Olivia’s eyes were closed quite tight, as she waited for Lady Thatcham’s rebuke. The silence lasted so long that she glanced up, just as Lady Thatcham lost control of herself and let out a hoot of laughter. “It would appear that you and Mr. Roberts are better acquainted than I imagined.”
“It’s not quite as bad as you think, my lady.” Olivia couldn’t control the quiver in her voice.
Lady Thatcham’s smile faded. “You have no idea, my child, what I think, and I can assure you your secret is safe with me, unless it should become absolutely necessary to pass the information to our good constable in the interests of saving Mr. Roberts’ neck.” Lady Thatcham added in haste, “Good heavens, Miss Martin, it won’t come to that. My husband thinks most highly of Mr. Roberts, as do I. I’m sure we’ll soon be able to untangle this muddle. In the meantime, will you share a cup of chocolate with me? It is one of my secret vices.”
Lady Thatcham’s face was serious. “Mr. Roberts, it seems to me, is lucky to have found someone like you. He is a young man of many talents, but more than his share of troubles.”
“Oh, no, don’t mistake me. There is no arrangement between Mr. Roberts and myself. The time we spent alone was innocent, I promise, although I knew we shouldn’t be there.” Olivia’s voice faded away under her hostess’s grave look.
“You must understand that, although you can attest to Mr. Roberts being with you for some of the evening, I am afraid that no one can be sure of the exact timing of Major Lovell’s death. You have no way of knowing whether it took place before you spoke with Mr. Roberts. In any case, there’s no guarantee that you’d be believed, if it came to a trial. A jury may choose to believe that your relationship with Mr. Roberts made your testimony unsafe.”
Lady Thatcham closed the book. “I think you have good sense, my dear. Use it. You know more than any of us about Mr. Roberts’ background. You don’t have to sit idly by and watch injustice take place. Or are you, perhaps, not entirely sure of the man?”
Olivia drew a sharp breath.
Lady Thatcham smiled. “As to your behaviour at the ball—it may have been unconventional, but there was no harm done. Do you think Thatcham and I never broke any silly rules, when we met, my dear? Don’t concern yourself that I will tell of your secret. I won’t tell a soul.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nelson knocked on the butler’s parlour door, as polite as though seeking an interview with Lord Thatcham himself.
The butler stood. “Good afternoon, sir.” The granite expression had softened. Mayhew, like his master, had chosen to believe Mr. Roberts innocent. “We’re all most grateful for your efforts on James’ behalf. Violet, especially, has returned to her normal self, although whether that is entirely beneficial remains to be seen.”
Danger at Thatcham Hall Page 16
