Page 32 of Lies in Little Sutherland
“She wasn’t here very long,” Doctor Meadows said, “and nothing in particular comes to mind.”
He did appear to be thinking about it, to do him justice.Unless he only appeared to be thinking about it, to throw off suspicion.
“You must have seen her for something,” I insisted.“You knew who she was.”
Doctor Meadows nodded.“But not necessarily because she sought out my services for her own self.She was there with Lady Charlotte for most of her ladyship’s appointments while she was expecting young Crispin.”
Of course.Uncle Harold wouldn’t have been bothered about supporting his wife for those, nor is it something fathers in general do, I suppose.
“But Morrison was never, for instance, pregnant herself?”
He stared at me as if I had lost my mind.“No, of course not.Or not during the time she was here in Little Sutherland.I have no idea what may have happened later.”
“And you haven’t thought of anything else of interest having to do with Crispin’s birth?”
That’s what we had come down here to inquire about in April: the initials L.M.that Grimsby the valet had scribbled on Crispin’s blackmail dossier.I still didn’t know whether they referred to Lionel Meadows, Lady Laetitia Marsden, Lydia Morrison, or someone else.
Next to me, Christopher moved uncomfortably, and I reached out and took his hand without looking at him.“Just another minute, Christopher.”
“No,” Doctor Meadows said.“I already told you that there was nothing out of the ordinary about young Crispin’s birth.He was a few weeks early?—”
I nodded.That’s normally a cause for stigma—your standard ‘premature baby’ (note the quotes) is born seven or eight months after his parents’ marriage—but of course that wasn’t the case here.Uncle Harold and Aunt Charlotte had already been married several years by the time Crispin came along.
“—but he was healthy and well-formed, simply a bit on the small side, and he outgrew that by the time you were three or four.”
Christopher nodded.“We’re much of a height now.And have been for a while.We went off to Eton looking like twins.”
“Sounded like them, too,” I agreed.
What would any reasonable person think, after all, but that Christopher and Crispin Astley, in the same year at Eton, were brothers?The only difference between them is coloring.Crispin inherited his mother’s platinum hair and gray eyes, while Christopher has the sunny blond hair and blue eyes of the rest of the Sutherlands.But that difference isn’t enough to take away from the fact that in every other respect, they’re practically identical.Christopher’s nose is perhaps a shade longer, and they’ve both picked up some scrapes and scars along the way that are different, but for all intents and purposes, they look enough alike to be twins.
All of which was neither here nor there.I turned back to Doctor Meadows.
“So there’s nothing you can think of to tell us?You don’t know why Morrison would have left Aunt Charlotte’s employ as soon as Crispin was born?You can’t think of anyone who might have wanted her dead?”
Doctor Meadows looked startled.“My dear girl, of course not.It’s been almost a quarter of a century since I last saw her.And surely, if something had happened back then that someone would have wanted to kill her for, they would have done it by now?”
You’d think so, wouldn’t you?Except?—
“I don’t suppose you know anything about what happened to Hughes?”I wanted to know.
“Margaret Hughes?Lady Charlotte’s maid, do you mean?”
“The one that replaced Morrison, yes.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Doctor Meadows said.“What happened to her?”
“Well, she’s dead, too.”
I kept a close eye on him when I said it, but all I could see was genuine shock.
“It happened a few months ago,” Christopher added, “in Bristol.She went there in July.Aunt Charlotte was dead, you know, and my mother has no need for a lady’s maid, so my father gave her a bit of money and a friend of ours gave her a lift to Bristol.And a month or so later, we heard that she had been killed in a robbery.”
“You don’t say?”Doctor Meadows seemed politely interested, but nothing more.“That’s terrible.But no, I hadn’t heard anything about that.”
“Isn’t it just awful?Both of them dead—all three of them, if you count Aunt Charlotte, or all four, if you count Lady Peckham—and all within six months of each other.It’s hard to imagine that there isn’t a connection.”
Doctor Meadows looked at me for a moment.“Your aunt left a note, I thought?”
