Page 33 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“Do you have a theory, Mrs. Clayborn?” he asked.
“Unfortunately not. Without knowing who was where at the time the shot was fired, there are simply too many suspects.”
Fortunately, that was one thing I’d managed to achieve while I was staying at Hambledon Hall.
“Do you know of any grudges against Esmond Shepherd?” Harry prompted. “Anyone who had a disagreement with him?”
Mrs. Clayborn leaned forward. “He did upset a number of men. A lot of women liked him, you see. He could be charming to the young, pretty ones.” She rolled her eyes. “Silly flibbertigibbets, the lot of them, but that’s young maids for you.”
The other women nodded, so I doubted any of them was the recipient of the gamekeeper’s attentions.
“It didn’t upset any husbands,” the proprietress clarified. “He chased afterunmarriedgirls, and mostly only Hambledon housemaids.”
“And the nannies,” Mrs. Clayborn added. “I never understood why his lordship didn’t put a stop to it. They must have gone through dozens of girls over the years, all leaving in tears because Mr. Shepherd lost interest in them.”
“You know why his lordship didn’t,” the proprietress chided, hand on hip. “Don’t pretend innocence, Mrs. Clayborn.”
Mrs. Clayborn’s lips pinched before she relented with a sigh. “I suppose Mr. Armitage should know, even if it’s not relevant. It will help him get a better picture of the victim.”
Mrs. Smith scoffed. “That old rumor? It’s not true.”
“It might be true,” Mrs. Clayborn said snippily.
“I think it’s true,” said the proprietress.
“So do I,” added the fourth woman, speaking up for the first time.
“What rumor?” Harry asked. “Why do you think Lord Kershaw never dismissed Esmond Shepherd for his behavior toward the female staff?”
Mrs. Clayborn’s lips pinched again. “The rumor is that Lord Kershaw’s grandfather got Esmond Shepherd’s mother pregnant. Apparently, Susannah Shepherd was the fourth earl’s daughter. That close tie between the families meant the current Lord Kershaw didn’t want to dismiss Esmond Shepherd, Susannah’s younger brother. She died years ago, aged just twenty-one, poor thing.”
It was the same rumor Mr. Faine had told us. Mrs. Clayborn clearly also believed it, as did the proprietress of the teashop and the fourth woman, who both nodded along as if it were a certainty.
The oldest woman, Mrs. Smith, shook her head vehemently. “No. I don’t believe it for a moment, and I never have. I think it’s time to put that nasty rumor to bed, once and for all.”
“Why don’t you believe it?” Mrs. Clayborn asked with genuine curiosity. She and the other women seemed to respect the older woman’s opinion.
Mrs. Smith settled her bulk in the chair, pleased she had everyone’s attention. “For one thing, I’m the only one here who remembers the fourth Lord Kershaw well, and he was a stiff, upright man. An affair of the heart wasn’t in his nature. He was also quite a bit older than Mabel Shepherd, who was happily married at the time, may I point out. That’s not all,” she added crisply. “I clearly remember seeing them in the same vicinity from time to time, and there was no spark between them. Lovers are easy to spot. They share certain signals without knowing it. But I saw no sign they’d shared even a moment of intimacy.”
“They could have been good actors,” Mrs. Clayborn said.
Mrs. Smith barreled on, undeterred. “Do you remember how upset William Shepherd was when Susannah died?”
“It was over forty years ago!” the proprietress cried. “I was just a girl then.”
“I remember how devastated he and Mabel were. Inconsolable. If Susannah wasn’thisdaughter, he wouldn’t have been as upset as that.”
“He raised her,” Mrs. Clayborn pointed out. “That must account for something.”
Harry and I had both been raised by people who were not our parents, albeit only for a few years, not our entire lives. But it meant we’d witnessed firsthand that it was possible to feel all the deep emotions that went along with parenthood despite not being the natural parent. I found myself nodding along to Mrs. Clayborn’s response for that very reason.
“Mabel Shepherd died recently, didn’t she?” I asked.
“A month ago,” Mrs. Smith said. “It’s a good thing she wasn’t alive to see her youngest die before his time. She’d already buried Susannah, and she doted on Esmond. It would have been a tragedy.”
Once again, I tried to think how the rumors surrounding Susannah’s father’s identity could have a bearing on the murder of her brother, but I couldn’t see a connection. The scandal was hardly news. Everyone in the village seemed to have heard it. Besides, it happened years ago. All the parties involved were deceased. Indeed, there was only one person alive who could know the truth.
“Lady Elizabeth Wentworth and Mabel Shepherd were a similar age, is that right?” I asked.
