Page 45 of Death at Fournier Downs
Recalling the bundles of herbs that had been near the dropped basket, Audrey’s lips parted. She nodded, understanding. But it didn’t make any sense. “Charlotte wanted a child, I thought. After the miscarriages, she was distraught.”
Dorothy nodded vigorously. “I thought so too. She often confided that she wanted a purpose, a distraction from the earl. She knew he wanted nothing to do with abrat, as he called them, but she didn’t care. The baby would be hers.” The maid’s eyes grew glassy. She scrunched her nose against the sting of tears. “So, when she wanted to meet with Ida, I was taken by surprise. But I did as she asked, of course, and arranged for the meeting. It wasn’t my place to say anything contrary.”
A foreboding thought entered Audrey’s mind. “The meeting was to take place at the stone cottage in the woods.”
Dorothy nodded. Audrey closed her eyes and again saw Ida Smith’s body, lying in the tall grass and wildflowers, a basket and bundles of herbs spilled nearby. But that was days after her meeting with Charlotte. Days after Charlotte’s death. What had Ida been doing there again?
“Was the meeting set for the day Charlotte died?”
Again, Dorothy nodded, but this time she could not stopper her tears. They streaked down her blotchy cheeks, though she swiftly wiped them away.
“She went alone then?” Audrey asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. There are several paths through the woods leading to the cottage. Some come from Low Heath, others from neighboring properties. It is—was—Ida’s usual meeting spot.”
Understanding shed through Audrey, buoying her. A piece of the puzzle had come together, though there was much she still did not understand. But now she knew what Charlotte had been doing in the woods that day. She’d been running from the direction of the cottage, which meant whoever was chasing her had likely discovered the meeting. Was that why Ida had then been killed? Had she seen Charlotte’s attacker?
Again, Audrey recalled the murky tail end of the vision that Charlotte’s dress had provided: Charlotte, standing within the stone ruin, and the hazy image of who she now knew was Ida Smith passing before the window. The man in the brown sack coat and hat had to have been there as well.
“I don’t mean to sound insensitive or a gossip, Dorothy, but…do you have any reason to believe your mistress was conducting an affair?”
The maid pressed her lips thin as she sniffled and wiped her cheeks dry. “I think she might have been, yes, but she was guarded about it. I never saw her with anyone beyond family and the staff, and some lady friends, like yourself. And the doctor, of course.”
“Could he have been her lover?”
She frowned. “Doctor Ryder’s visits were so swift, and I was with my mistress for most of them. I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Perhaps one of the staff?” Audrey pressed.
Loyalty among the serving class was thick and taken seriously; she knew she was asking much of the maid to point a finger toward a man with whom she worked alongside. But she shook her head decisively. “No. I do not think so, Your Grace.”
Slightly deflated, Audrey nodded. “Thank you. This could very well make all the difference in the investigation.”
The maid bobbed another curtsey and started for the shed door. But Audrey held up a hand.
“One more thing: Did you suspect that the previous Lady Bainbury, Mary, also had a lover?”
The question was met with a blank expression. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I wasn’t lady’s maid then. You might ask Annie though.”
“Annie?” The name rang familiar, though she couldn’t place it.
“Annie Ryder. She works at Haverfield now, but she was lady’s maid to the previous countess.”
Audrey masked her surprise. “Ryder? Is she related to the doctor?”
Dorothy nodded, and after Audrey murmured her thanks, the maid departed. She left the shed as well, making sure to stop and say hello to the gardener, to distract him from spying the maid on her clandestine retreat.
As she continued along the gravel path circling the perimeter of the house, she recalled the maid serving tea at Haverfield. Annie had been her name. The same woman who’d been lady’s maid to a countess? It was quite the demotion. Perhaps there was something behind it, but for now, she needed to find Hugh and inform him of everything Dorothy had said. She checked the tall case clock in the main hall. Nearly noon. The inquest for Ida Smith would likely be finishing up. Audrey turned for the icehouse.
ChapterSixteen
The same jury of men filled the Duke of Fournier’s icehouse for Ida Smith’s death inquest, with one exception: this time, a representative from Lord Bainbury’s household had agreed to appear.
Lord Renfry, the future Earl of Bainbury, stood among those gathered around the sheeted figure of the slain Haverfield servant. He must have gained his tall stature from his mother, the first late Countess of Bainbury, but he did inherit the earl’s strong jaw and striking looks. He stood stiffly, his attention darting from the sheeted figure of Ida Smith to the one on a cot set out of the way, behind the circle of men.
Like a few of the others present, Renfry had pinned flower buds to his lapel in the hopes of offsetting any potential unsavory odors. The cold air trapped within the thick earthen walls of the icehouse did have a slightly pungent aroma, though Hugh thought it only to be onion, parsnip, and other root vegetables. Ida Smith’s body was too new to be emanating foul smells, however Lady Bainbury’s might be reaching its keeping point. It had been a week since her death, and almost as soon as the jury was gathered, Lord Edgerton decried the situation.
“The woman needs to be buried,” he bellowed. “This is outrageous. You’ve had days to determine the manner of death. What are you waiting for?”
