Page 37 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“And brought to Stroud to sit in the prison there, until a court finds her guilty and hangs her for her crime?” Lord Crabb replied, adding an incredulous laugh to the end of his sentence.
“Well, yes,” Mr Treswell shrugged. “A man was murdered. The law must be enforced.”
“We cannot say for certain that Mrs Bridges is guilty, especially not when we have other suspects we are investigating,” Lord Crabb replied, his tone even and polite despite the glint of annoyance in his eyes.
“She chased me from her garden whilst brandishing a gun,” Mr Treswell protested, looking to Lucian for support.
Lucian gave a helpless shrug, to indicate that there was little he could do to dissuade the viscount.
“Why did you call on her that day?” he asked curiously.
“It was suggested by Mr Mifford that Mrs Bridges might be able to help me with problem I’m having,” Mr Treswell answered, taking a large sip of his brandy in an attempt to hide his obvious discomfort.
“Colic?” Lord Crabb suggested innocently.
“If only,” the solicitor gave a groan, then another as he realised his glass was now empty. Lord Crabb was quick to his feet to replenish it, topping up Lucian’s and his own for good measure.
“I’m afraid it’s a confidential matter that relates to the estate of the late Mr Gardiner,” Mr Treswell stuttered, as he realised that Lucian and Lord Crabb were waiting for him to continue.
“There are no secrets amongst friends, Tressy,” Lucian assured him.
Treswell looked tickled pink by the idea that he now counted an earl and a viscount as friends. He gave a shy smile, leaned forward, and in a hushed whisper began to explain his problem.
“As you may already know, Mr Gardiner became estranged from his son after his wife’s death,” he began. “They were never reunited, the lad was lost at sea during a naval campaign.”
“How terrible,” Lucian said on an exhale, thinking of Rowan.
“Indeed,” Mr Treswell agreed, his glasses slipping as he nodded sadly. “However, Mr Gardiner revealed on his deathbed, that before he died, his son had married and sired a daughter. He requested I change his will and leave everything to the girl.”
“But you could not find her, so Hardwick inherited,” Lucian finished for him.
“There was a codicil that stated if Miss Gardiner could not be found within a year that the next male relative should inherit,” Mr Treswell confirmed, “Now that Mr Hardwick has also died, I find myself right back where I began. Miss Gardiner is the last living relative of both Mr Gardiner and Mr Hardwick.”
It was a fascinating tale, though Lucian was still confused.
“What did Mrs Bridges have to do with all this?” he asked, as the solicitor took another sip from his glass.
“Well, it was Mr Mifford who suggested that she might know something of the girl’s identity,” Treswell explained. “By his own account, her memories are probably a far more accurate record of all the births in Plumpton than his own.”
Here, the solicitor frowned with annoyance. “A terribly nice fellow, Mr Mifford, but his record-keeping skills leave something to be desired.”
“He does do a lovely sermon, though,” Lord Crabb shrugged. “Never runs over and ruins the Sunday roast.”
“So, Mrs Bridges was upset by you asking to reveal the particulars of local women’s confinements.” Lucian surmised aloud.
As Mr Treswell nodded in agreement, a thought struck him. Mr Hardwick must also have guessed at the secrets Mrs Bridges learned as a lying-in woman to the village. That was theonly possible explanation for their argument. Was that reason enough for Mrs Bridges to have killed the man? It seemed rather far-fetched to Lucian.
“Well, Tressy,” Lucian continued with a shrug, “All I can say is that perhaps Mrs Bridges takes her Hippocratic oath seriously enough to threaten to shoot a man over it. Case closed.”
“The case of Miss Gardiner remains open, I’m afraid,” Treswell sighed, though his thirst for Mrs Bridges’ blood must have been sated by the Armagnac for he did not further mention pressing charges.
“We shall keep an ear out for any whispers of a missing heiress,” Lord Crabb assured him.
As the bottle was now finished, the impromptu gathering came to a fuzzy end.
“We never did discuss the other suspects,” Mr Treswell commented, as he donned his coat to leave.
Lucian lingered a while after the solicitor had left, to discuss Tresswell’s revelations with Lord Crabb—and his own suspicion that Hardwick suspected the woman knew Miss Gardiner’s true identity.
