Page 46 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
"The wound is not so bad," he said, after he had called back that morning to check Flora for a second time, "It is not deep; I expect the exposure to the cold harmed her more than the blow to her head."
"Do you think she will awaken soon?" Ivo pressed, anxious to question Flora on who she thought had attacked her.
"I expect so," Dr Bates regarded Ivo sternly over his spectacles, "But don't go exciting her when she does wake. She needs rest, not the Spanish Inquisition."
"Very well," Ivo fibbed, fully intending to question Flora the minute she awakened. For, Ivo was certain, if he discovered who was behind the attack on Flora, then he would find Lord Crabb's murderer—though he already had a suspect.
"James," Ivo roared once the doctor had departed, and the young footman came running to the entrance hall, "Do you know where the farmer, Bennett, lives? Good. I shall need you to bring him here immediately, don't take no for an answer."
The footman nodded and took off, leaving Ivo with two options open to him; pace the floor of the entrance hall, or retire to the library for a drink.
He chose the latter.
The hour in which it took James to fetch Mr Bennett passed remarkably quickly, the passage of time aided—no doubt—by the consumption of two tumblers of brandy. As he waited, Ivo scribbled out a missive to Miss Mifford, explaining what had transpired. When James eventually returned with Mr Bennett, he was sent straight off again to Primrose Cottage with the note.
"Mr Bennett," Ivo regarded the farmer who stood before him with a cool gaze.
"My lord," Mr Bennett replied, his eyes not lifting from the carpet beneath his boots. He cut a pitiful figure, standing as he was in the middle of the sumptuously decorated library, dressed in muddied trousers and a frayed wool coat, twisting the hat in his hands nervously.
"I presume you know why I have summoned you?" Ivo questioned, the brandy adding a hint of melodrama to his tone.
"I do, my lord," Mr Bennett nodded, "And I should like to apologise. I was in my cups, you see, and did not know what I was doing. I hope you will take my word for it, that it will never happen again, and forgive my poor behaviour."
Ivo raised his eyebrows in disbelief; he had not expected a confession to be so easily extracted. Nor had he expected such a pitiful apology.
"That's all you have to say?" Ivo questioned, allowing a note of disbelief to creep into his tone, "Apart from the moral issues, there are legal issues too."
Mr Bennett glanced up from the carpet which had been occupying his attention, his brown eyes finally meeting Ivo's.
"Legal issues?" he asked, licking his lips nervously, "You mean trespassing?"
"I mean murder," Ivo growled, unable to hold his temper any longer, "You convinced Miss Bridges to poison Lord Crabb's tonic and then, when you were afraid that she would reveal your secret, you set upon her last night and attempted to beat her to death."
"I-I-I-" Mr Bennett stuttered, fanning his sweaty face with his hat, "I did no such thing. And Flora, poor Miss Bridges, was attacked? Why—I—"
Ivo had never witnessed a man of Mr Bennett's height and breadth faint before. The noise he made when he hit the ground reminded Ivo of cannon fire, though he did not dwell too much on this, for he had to attend to the fainted farmer.
"Mr Bennett," Ivo called, squatting down to shake the man's shoulder.
Mr Bennett gave a groan, his eyes blinking open. For a moment he looked completely confused, until he recalled where he was and sat up.
"Is Flora alright?" he asked, grabbing Ivo by the lapel of his coat.
"No thanks to you," Ivo responded, removing his hand with a grimace.
"What? You think I attacked Flora?" the farmer shook his head, furiously, "I did no such thing; I love Flora. I thought that's why you called me here, on account of the fact that I've been calling after the pub and throwing stones at her window."
It occurred to Ivo, as he glared down at the flesh-faced Mr Bennett, that the man did not have the intelligence to orchestrate a murder. He did, however, have two huge, meaty fists, and a rumoured short temper.
"Did Flora return your affections?" Ivo questioned, and the farmer flushed a little.
"Not exactly," he mumbled, his eyes once more on the carpet, "But my Da always said that when a woman says no, she just needs more persuading."
"Or perhaps she actually means no," Ivo sighed, standing to his feet and offering the farmer a hand up, "Now tell me, from the beginning, what happened between you both."
In a halting manner, Mr Bennett explained how he had first met Flora when she was selling some of her tonics in the village. He had taken a shine to her and when he had learned that it was not only beauty potions and restorative drops that she sold, but another concoction as well, he had grown concerned.
"What on earth is the other concoction?" Ivo asked, bemused by the farmer's further blushes.
