Page 86 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“I see you found it, Miss Fox.” Lady Elizabeth closed the door behind her then approached me, leaning heavily on her walking stick.
“You shot him.” I nodded at the window. “From there. You rested the rifle on the windowsill, scratching off some of the paint.” The rifle appeared clean, but a closer inspection under a magnifying glass might yield paint flecks of the same shade as the sill. “You hid the rifle behind the wall panel then came downstairs with everyone else. Later, you informed Lord Kershaw, and he repainted the sill.”
“I won’t insult you by denying it. You’re right about all of it.”
“You’re a very good shot.”
“Thank you. I preferred shooting at a target with a rifle than at birds with a shotgun. It requires more skill.” She crossed the room and sat on the chair at the breakfast table positioned near the window. The view was lovely. Deadly, too. “Everyone has forgotten that I used to ride and shoot as well as any man. I could swim, too, and I loved climbing trees before my mother found out and put an end to it. It wasn’t ladylike, she said. Neither was having a brain, in those days.”
I couldn’t help my wry smile. “Not much has changed since, unfortunately.”
Her smile matched mine. “At least women can attend university lectures now. Not that my parents would have allowed me to. I had to do what they wished and marry well. That’s what daughters of earls do.”
“Yet you didn’t marry.”
“They promised me they would never force me to marry a man against my wishes. I could choose my own husband, as long as they approved of him. But I never found a man I could respect who was also good enough for my parents. As time wore on, and my looks faded, it became clear I wouldn’t marry. Instead, I took care of my aging parents and involved myself in charity work. That’s what single women of good breeding do. They make themselves useful, until they are no longer of use to anyone.” She smacked the palm of her hand on the head of the walking stick as if blaming the device for her frailty. “Once you can no longer get out and about with ease, it’s as though you cease to have a purpose. That’s the thing about becoming old. Everyone forgets you used to be intelligent, sporty, and fun.”
“The villagers used the word dutiful to describe you,” I said. “They have a lot of respect for you.”
“Thank you for telling me, Miss Fox. It lifts my spirits to hear that all my hard work hasn’t gone unnoticed.” She sighed. “Duty is all I’ve had for so many years. Duty to my parents, to my position as daughter of the fourth earl of Kershaw, duty as a member of society. My brother came to realize his duty, too, although it took him longer than me. He was a little wayward when he was younger. He was a dreamer.” She huffed. “I suppose he thought he was in love with Susannah and that’s why he married her. You do know about that, don’t you, Miss Fox? They married.”
“I know. Their son, Esmond, was legitimate. You told me you learned who his father was five years ago, when your brother died, but that’s not true, is it?”
“I only found out when my nephew told me, on the same day Esmond informed him. Esmond’s mother, Mabel Shepherd—grandmother,” she corrected herself, “died a month ago, but the slovenly fellow only recently got around to tidying up her things in the cottage they shared. That’s when he found her letter, addressed to him. He went in search of the evidence in the parish registers and presented it to my nephew. My nephew asked me what I recollected of that time, and if I knew. Of course I hadn’t known about the marriage or that my brother fathered Esmond. I only knew my brother had a brief but rather intense relationship with Susannah that ended when she died. He never mentioned they’d married, and Susannah hid her pregnancy well. Mabel Shepherd hid the entire saga well, too. I’m still in shock over the fact a woman I’d known my entire life gave no indication of the secret. Not even a hint. She didn’t leavemea letter, just Esmond.”
“If Mabel Shepherd knew Esmond was legitimate, why did she and her husband pretend he was their son? Why not force your brother to acknowledge him?”
“Apparently her letter to Esmond said thatmyfather had paid them well to keep silent. They were good people, the Shepherds. Honest, hardworking people who knew Esmond would never be fully accepted by my family or society because of his mother’s low birth. They decided he would have a better life if he were brought up astheirchild.”
“They did their duty as employees of Lord Kershaw,” I said.
“Duty,” she muttered, a bitter edge to her tone.
“Your father, the fourth earl, knew the truth?”
“So it seems. Looking back, I think that’s why he let the rumor about himself being Susannah’s father swirl unchecked. That rumor threw everyone off the scent and distracted them from discovering the truth. Perhaps he even started the rumor. It began just after she died, when my parents were suddenly treating the Shepherds well. The cottage got renovated, they were allowed to shoot as many birds as they wanted for themselves, and my father never said a harsh word against them. Not one. I remember the first time my brother heard the rumor. He was livid. He and my father argued about it, and my father told him not to deny it. Now I know why.”
“Your brother loved Susannah.”
Lady Elizabeth huffed again. “Floozy that she was, yes he did. Despite his loss, he did his duty and married not long after she died. You may think it odd that he didn’t claim his own son, but you must understand that my brother was under our father’s control. His marriage to Susannah was the only rebellious thing he ever did, and her death seemed to stun him into dutiful complaisance. His second wife was the opposite of Susannah. Steady, not too bright, but from a good family. I suppose the haste of their marriage was our father’s influence again, ensuring my brother’s eye didn’t fall on someone unsuitable for a second time.”
“Your father sounds like an authoritarian figure.”
“He was strict and mean.”
“He wanted to close the bridleway to the public, even though they had a legitimate right to use it, according to a document dated 1538.”
She looked surprised that I knew. “He legally withdrew that right, but never enforced it. He was quite ill by then. The villagers never found out, so when my nephew did finally close the bridleway, naturally there was uproar in Morcombe.”
“Led by Mr. Faine, but only as a pretense,” I went on. “He, Esmond and Mr. Browning thought a little agitation would stop the police from looking at them as suspects in the thefts from Hambledon Hall, if the thefts were reported. Which they weren’t. Lord and Lady Kershaw decided not to tell Sergeant Honeyman. As long as only replaceable things were stolen, they were willing to overlook their brother-in-law’s crime.”
“I’m not sure either of them care about Gordon Browning that much. Esmond had informed my nephew of his legitimacy by then, so it was imperative to keep that a secret. Esmond wanted money at first, but it wasn’t enough. He quickly spent it on trinkets and clothes that he thought would make him a gentleman. The closure of the bridleway became his next demand, and there would have been more. Much more.”
The blackmail explained the gold pocket watch and good clothes we’d found in the cottage.
Lady Elizabeth leaned both hands on her walking stick and studied me. “I must say, Miss Fox, you have learned more than I expected you to. It’s heartening to see a woman succeeding in a man’s business. Well done.”
“Thank you. Although part of me is sorry to have learned the truth.”
