by Jude Bayton
“Oh, if only I was,” I exclaimed. “I do take The Woman’s Suffrage Journal when I am fortunate to find it. Uncle Jasper has great respect for Miss Lydia Becker because she is a friend of Charles Darwin, and a biologist. So, he takes no issue with me following their beliefs.”
“Then Professor Alexander is quite a progressive thinker.” Lady Louisa gave an approving glance to my uncle, and then she turned to her husband standing close to him and frowned. “Unlike some others I might mention.” She arched a brow. “Miss Farraday, I am impressed you have a good head on your shoulders. I take a regular subscription to The Woman’s Suffrage Journal. I shall forward my copies to you after I have read them. Would you like that?”
I was momentarily at a loss for words at her unexpected kindness. “Thank you, that is a generous offer, Lady Mountjoy.”
“’Tis nothing,” she said. Her eyes travelled to Evergreen. “Are you and Miss LaVelle becoming good friends?”
I shrugged. “Unlikely acquaintances would be a better term.” I chuckled. “We met accidentally, and she has seen fit to require my companionship on several occasions.”
“Ah, I see.” Lady Mountjoy commented. “Evergreen has always been quite a demanding young lady. Before you, it was Dominic Wolfe she pestered. He is probably enjoying the break.” She gave a little laugh.
Her words stung, though I did not think it was her intention. Yet I did not like the thought of Dominic and Evergreen spending time together. I was jealous.
“I believe the LaVelles and Wolfes are friends of old,” I replied.
“That is one way of saying it,” she said sardonically and then got to her feet. “Miss Farraday, I have enjoyed our chat this evening. I hope to see you again soon.” She nodded towards me and walked in the direction of her husband. “Come, Monty. ’Tis time for us to take our leave.”
There followed polite goodbyes, and then the Mountjoy’s were gone, leaving Uncle and I to make our own farewells. I rose to go over to where my uncle stood, but was stopped as Marabelle Pike drew near.
“You seem keen to gain Lady Louisa’s good favour.” At first, I did not realise she was addressing me. The woman had made it her practice to ignore me at every other encounter.
“Not at all,” I replied, irked at her tone. “We found something of common interest to discuss.”
Evergreen arrived to stand with us. She shot her cousin a withering look. “For goodness sake, Marabelle. Stop being so annoying. Are you so aggravated at anyone enjoying their evening that you must spoil it?”
Marabelle stiffened, and walked out of the parlour. Evergreen chuckled, and though I was still annoyed with her dour cousin, I found her delight in Marabelle’s discomfiture unsettling.
Uncle Jasper came over with Victor behind him. “Jilly, Victor has offered us the use of his carriage home. I have accepted as the hour grows late and I am tired.”
“Thank you, Mr LaVelle.” I smiled politely at our host. He waved a hand.
“Say nothing of it. I am pleased you were able to join us this evening. I hope my family’s outbursts did not offend?” His green eyes slanted over to Evergreen, who held her head high and met his disapproval without flinching.
“Not at all,” I said, looking between the two LaVelles. “Better to be forthright and honest than not.” I extended my hand to shake his. “Thank you for a nice evening. It was kind of you to include my uncle and I.”
“Indeed,” he said pleasantly. He escorted me out to the hall with Uncle Jasper and Evergreen close behind still in conversation.
“Miss Farraday. I wonder if you would be available to meet at Wolfe Farm tomorrow. Shall we say at one in the afternoon?” My heart leapt at the mention of Dominic’s farm. I would welcome any opportunity to see him.
“Of course. I would be happy to come.”
“Where are you going?” Evergreen asked as she had overheard her father. “And why am I not invited?” Victor stopped at the front door. He turned towards his daughter.
“It is none of your concern.” His voice was flat and cold.
Evergreen bristled, spun on her heel, and trounced away. My level of discomfort grew. Was this family constantly at odds with one another?
Uncle Jasper came to the rescue. “Come along, Jilly, dear. The carriage awaits. Thank you, Victor, I will see you at the lecture Thursday evening.” He shook our host’s hand, then led me through the door and out into the evening.
I was not talkative on the journey home, though Uncle Jasper did not remark upon it. I was busy recounting Lady Mountjoy’s comments regarding Evergreen and Dominic Wolfe. Was there more than a childhood friendship between them? It was entirely possible. After all, they were both attractive, interesting people. It would be natural for them to form an amorous alliance over time. Yet surely it could not be, for had not Dominic kissed me? Had he not declared the desire to get to know me better once Billy’s situation was resolved?
I hated my naiveté, that I had no experience with romance. For though my heart ached to strengthen my feelings for the handsome artist, my common sense reminded me that to entangle myself with Evergreen LaVelle’s dislike, was tantamount to treason.
Chapter Fourteen
I BARELY CONCENTRATED ON MY work the next morning. I was obsessed with thoughts of seeing Dominic later in the day. For every speculation of what might have transpired between us had Jareth Flynn not been murdered, there was another where I pictured Evergreen LaVelle wrapped in Dominic’s embrace.
The irony was that after months of solitude, my move to Ambleside had unexpectedly brought someone into my life. A man who I not only had a physical attraction to, but also a profound interest in learning about as an individual. I liked Dominic Wolfe. I respected his kindness, his sense of duty to family, and the quiet strength I sensed lay within. Did I have the nerve to ask him about his feelings for Evergreen?
After luncheon with Uncle Jasper and Mrs Stackpoole, I excused myself to go to Wolfe Farm. The day was sunny and warm enough to leave my shawl at home. I wore an old cotton dress of my mother’s, and though the fabric was now a faded periwinkle blue, I still loved it as it reminded me so much of her.
I walked briskly down Lake Road, nodding occasionally as I passed by other pedestrians, some whose faces were growing more familiar. The sky was a brilliant blue and completely cloudless. I marvelled at the beauty of nature’s palette as I surveyed the bright green grass fields that contrasted so magnificently with the faultless sky.
Dominic opened the farmhouse door to me with a welcoming smile, and I felt a spread of warmth fill my heart. As I stepped inside, he pulled me into a warm embrace.
“I am so glad to see you, Jilly,” he spoke softly into my ear. “You are a wonderful tonic when the rest of my world seems so upside down.” His eyes searched my face and settled upon my lips. He touched his mouth to mine and kissed me deeply, only stopping at the sound of carriage wheels out in the yard. He drew back and gave me a lingering look. “Come through to the kitchen. I have made tea. Victor will let himself in.”
I followed Dominic down the hall, my mind conflicted by his attentions.
When Victor LaVelle joined us in the kitchen, I was again struck how much more significant he appeared than most men of his years. He was immaculately turned out, sporting a brown tweed jacket which suited him immensely.
“Good day to you, Jillian.” He sat down at the table and Dominic served the tea and then took a seat. Victor retrieved a small notebook from his pocket and laid it on the table.
“Roger Kemp has arrived in the village. He wishes to call upon you later this afternoon, Jillian. Although it will be distressing, he will ask you about finding Flynn’s body.” He glanced at Dominic. “I collected him from the Kendal train and took him directly to meet Billy. They spoke at length, and though the boy remains distraught, he responded to Roger surprisingly well. Even in his confused state of mind, Billy remains adamant about losing his knife.”
“He has no reason to lie about it, Victor,” Do
minic said vehemently. “The knife was Father’s, and he treasured it.”
“Yet he did not mention the loss to you at the time?” Victor stated.
Dominic thought for a moment and then shook his head.
“Damn,” said Victor. He wrote a note on the page. “It would have been better if he had. To establish the knife’s value to the boy, it would have helped if Billy had bemoaned the fact to you back when he initially lost it. From a jury’s point of view, they would expect the boy to be upset and remark upon it being mislaid.”
“Not necessarily,” I interjected. They turned to look at me.
“Many years ago, I lost a beloved brooch given to me by my grandmother. I did not tell my mother for days because I feared she would be disappointed, or even angry with me. It occurs to me that Billy was probably worried what Dominic’s reaction might be.”
Dominic nodded. “Now you say it, Jillian, it makes sense. I do scold Billy for losing things because it happens so frequently. Usually, it’s a tool from the shed or something of that nature. But he hates it when I am cross with him. No wonder he kept it a secret.”
Victor pursed his lips for a moment and then smiled at me. “Jillian, you raise a good point. I’ll pass it onto Kemp. If it goes to trial, he will need to know how to coax the boy into explaining his not wanting to let Dominic down by the loss of a family heirloom.”
Dominic’s face fell. “Dear God, I can’t imagine my brother on the witness stand. He will be petrified. His testimony might even make the situation worse than it already is.”
“Then you must prepare him,” I said enthusiastically. “Billy will be the better for it if you can get him used to the idea. Repetition will ease his fears.”
Victor nodded. “She is right. ‘Tis an excellent suggestion. You should see the boy as often as they will allow.” He finished off his tea. “Now, the next question I have, Dominic. Did you search through Billy’s things as I asked?”
“Yes. After Constable Bloom was finished in his room, I looked at everything.” He frowned. “What I don’t understand is why Billy had Flynn’s wallet. He is no thief, but a scavenger. Billy collects things he finds in the woods, broken things or colourful objects, items you or I would easily disregard. But he has no material interest in anything, except animals. He gets his pocket money each week, and unless he buys buns or something sweet, he saves it up in a jar on the shelf to buy plants or treats for the livestock. This entire situation is too hard to absorb. Everything Billy is accused of is completely out of character.” Dominic rose and retrieved a box sitting next to the stove. “This is Billy’s box of special things he’s found. I might add, the wallet was not discovered here, but tucked underneath his mattress, which is odd. There isn’t much to speak of in the box, but there is one item I found curious.”
Dominic placed a small wooden crate on the table. It was full of bric-a-brac which he began to remove. A ball of string, bird feathers tied together, a small leather pouch of stones and what looked like an old doll. There was also a sheaf of papers. They were of different sizes and shapes, bound together with a thin string of ribbon. Dominic took these and placed them next to the box. He untied the bow and then picked up the top page to show to Victor and sat back down.
It was a small scrap, torn at the edges and dirty. But the writing was still distinct. Victor took the paper and brought it close to read.
“Hmm,” he said after a moment with a glance at us both. “It appears to be part of a letter from someone.” He squinted, and then passed it to me. “Here Jillian. Your eyes are far younger than mine.”
I studied the writing. It was poor, but legible. “Have you read this yet, Dominic?”
“Yes, but you look at it and see if we draw the same conclusion.”
I read aloud that which I could decipher. “‘I saw you in’—the rest of that sentence is missing. The next line says—‘against nature’—and then—‘on Tuesday at four, by the boathouse or else’.” I glanced up at Dominic. “What do you make of it?”
“Well,” he said. “We agree on what was written, though it’s anyone’s guess what it actually means.”
“Against nature conjures up several possibilities,” Victor spoke as though still in deep thought. His hand rubbed his chin. “It depends on what the definition is referring to. An action? A behaviour? Cruelty? It could be anything.”
“Yes, but whoever wrote this must have witnessed something,” I said. “And whatever it was, they believed it to be wrong, at least in their eyes.”
“The ‘or else’ sounds ominous,” added Dominic. “And stating a place and time would indicate a meeting wouldn’t it?”
“It would appear so,” Victor agreed. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the scrap of paper. “I think Billy may have stumbled upon something here. But we do not know when or where he found it. So, it may have no bearing on the murder.”
“Then I’ll ask him,” Dominic said, getting abruptly to his feet. “You never know. It might be of significance, don’t you think?” He looked at me and then Victor.
“It is worth you finding out,” I said. And then another idea took hold. “Billy is no killer, but perhaps he saw something he should not have, and maybe he doesn’t even realize it himself. What better way to confuse him than to get him arrested?”
AS I SET OFF BACK HOME, Billy being framed preoccupied my thoughts. To me it seemed a logical explanation, far more plausible than the boy being capable of murder or theft. After all, to commit such a violent act would take a person pushed beyond reason, especially if it was reactionary, or self-defence. But to hide a weapon, and a wallet? That took planning and deviousness. Billy might not be perfect, but the limitations of his condition seemed contrary to someone being premeditative. Yet who would want to frame Billy Wolfe, knowing he might swing for it? The answer was simple—the real villain.
“Dearie me, missy. You’re away with the fairies.” Peggy Nash stood on the pathway, dressed in the same dirty outfit I had seen her wearing previously. I stopped short, and then took an involuntary step back, for fear of the woman’s ‘unique’ odour.
“Hello, Miss Nash.”
“You been at the Wolfe’s then?”
“I have,” I answered, though what business it was of hers I did not know.
“I like ’em boys, ’specially little Billy.” Her comment softened me, for it took a gentle soul to understand someone like Billy Wolfe.
“Billy never stabbed that Flynn. Not Billy. I watched ’im takin’ ’is last breath. An’ I saw with my own eyes that knife sticking through ’is ribs. But it weren’t Billy who stuck it there.”
“What do you mean, Peggy?” My pulse picked up speed. What did this strange woman know?
Her tongue moistened her lower lip, and she gave her sly lopsided grin. “Billy weren’t near the boathouse on yon lake.” She pointed in the general direction of Lake Road. “’Ee were off in the woods lookin’ at the new bunnies. I saw ’im talkin’ to ’em. Then I walked down to the shore an’ there came a mighty splash in t’other direction, over near the boathouse. But it weren’t no fish.” She chuckled.
My mind registered her meaning. She was confirming Billy was not at the murder site, but far away enough to establish his innocence. I stepped towards the woman.
“Peggy. Would you be willing to tell this story to Billy’s solicitor? It would help the boy, for he is in dire trouble.”
Her dirty brow wrinkled. “Dunno ’bout that. I’ll think on it,” she said quietly and turned to leave the way she had come.
My step was quicker as I hastened home. Victor had told me to expect Mr Kemp that afternoon to go over my account of the day I discovered the blacksmith’s body. But now I would be able to tell him so much more. A lightness of spirit surged in my breast, and it took all my willpower not to run all the way back to Wolfe Farm and tell Dominic my news.
“NO. I’M AFRAID HER TESTIMONY will not be enough for them to drop the charges against Billy, Miss Farraday.”
> My heart sank. I had eagerly shared Peggy Nash’s conversation with the middle-aged man sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Roger Kemp wore the comfort of his fortune in the cut of a fine tailored suit, crisp white shirt and neat cravat. With the tidy appearance of a military man, he sat with perfect posture, as though he was at attention in our small kitchen.
“But surely she is a prime witness? She can place Billy away from the scene of the murder.”
The older man stroked his neat moustache with a forefinger. “Miss Farraday, I do not doubt the woman believes everything she says. But by your description, if she is thought of as a touch light in the head, her testimony would not be credible. Someone with her reputation would be laughed out of the courtroom. I doubt she would even show up to the trial, let alone be able to cope with being cross-examined.”
I was completely deflated—my excitement at the possibility to prove Billy’s innocence splintered. I allowed my shoulders to sag and I stared glumly at a small mark upon the table.
“Please do not be disheartened, miss,” he said kindly.
I looked up and met his brown eyes. “I cannot help it, Mr Kemp. I feel so badly for the Wolfe family.”
“We have yet to exhaust all our avenues of detection, Miss Farraday. Bear in mind if this Nash person saw Billy, it stands to reason others may have witnessed him in the woods as well. That should be our focus. If we can corroborate her statement with other testimony, we might really be able to get the charges dropped against Billy Wolfe.” Roger Kemp gathered his papers from the table and placed them inside his briefcase. He got to his feet, a tall, solidly built man with the look of a sportsman about him.
He placed his hat atop greying hair and then reached out a hand which I accepted and shook.
“Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help, Mr Kemp.”
“I will. Thank you. It would be beneficial if you could ask around the village, see if anyone else saw Billy that day? Sometimes information can come from the least expected source.”
“Like Peggy Nash?” I said flatly.