Olivia gasped. Fury distorted Eliza’s face into a grotesque sneer. “And as for that old witch in the forest, pretending she knows the old ways. Huh! Wouldn’t even help Eileen get rid of the baby.”
“Be quiet, Eliza.” Mr. Roberts, on his feet, slammed down a fist that shook the table. “We’ve heard enough from you to send you to prison for years. If you want to escape, you’d better help put right some of the trouble you’ve caused. You can start by telling us what happened to Major Lovell.”
“Don’t know nuffink.” Eliza scowled.
Chapter Thirty
Mr. Roberts regained his seat, leaned back and smiled at the scullery maid. “We’ll all stay here until you tell us who killed Major Lovell, or until the constable arrives. That can’t be long, now. I reckon you’ll be locked up for a good few years with hard labour thrown in, once Constable Stephens gets his hands on you.”
A look of sheer terror replaced the sullen scowl on Eliza’s face. Brow furrowed, head swivelling, she gazed around the room, as though hoping she might find a way out of the predicament.
Mr. Roberts brought out a silver pocket watch. “Let me see. We sent James for the constable about five and twenty minutes ago. It will take him a quarter of an hour to get to the constable, five minutes to explain what’s needed and a further fifteen minutes to arrive back here. That means, if my arithmetic serves, that we have about ten minutes to wait. Miss Martin, I wonder if you would mind looking in the pantry. You and I can enjoy one of Mrs. Bramble’s pies while we wait, for it seems Eliza has lost the use of her tongue.”
He positioned the watch with exaggerated care on the table, in full view of Eliza, and sat back, feet at rest on the seat of a wooden chair. Holding the plate Olivia handed him, head turned away, he winked at Olivia.
Eliza’s eyes were glued to the watch. The seconds ticked away into the silence. Olivia hardly dared to breathe. At last, Mr. Roberts let out a contented sigh. “This pie is, I think, one of Mrs. Bramble’s best, do you not agree, Miss Martin?”
Eliza’s head jerked up. “All right, then.”
“All right? What can you mean?” Mr. Roberts’ voice was lazy. “Have you something sensible to say before I begin another slice of pie?”
“I got something to say.”
“Good. Then you’d better be quick. Time, you know, waits for no man, nor woman either.”
“It was Major Lovell who done it. Got Eileen with child. He’s no good, that man.”
Mr. Roberts sat forward, alert, his gaze so intense Eliza pulled away. “I’m more aware of that than you can ever be, my child.”
His voice, soft, floated on the air, like silk. “Just tell us who killed the major.”
Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know, sir. Those of us here in the Hall, we thought it was one of the gentlemen at the party.” Her teeth tore at a fingernail. “We thought it was you.”
Mr. Roberts groaned. “I’m well aware of that.” He stopped speaking and Eliza relaxed. “Now, tell me the truth, my girl. Who were the other fools dressed in sheets, desecrating the chapel?”
The sudden harshness seemed to startle Eliza. Stammering, she burst out, “I’ll tell you, but it won’t do you no good. Mostly, it was people from the village. Old Jackson and so on. No one else from the Hall, if that’s what you want to know.”
A crooked smile spread across Eliza’s face. “There’s one that’ll surprise you, though, so there is. You’re all so pally with Grandmother Caxton.”
“Nonsense, girl. She’s too old to take part in your games.”
“I don’t mean her. I mean Theodore.”
Olivia and Mr. Roberts spoke in unison. “Theodore?”
“Didn’t suspect ’im, did you? Anyway, it’s too late.”
Her words hit Olivia like a shock of cold water. “Wh-what do you mean, too late?”
“Eileen’s seen to him, all right. He said he was finished with the Hall and was going off to join the army like his brother. Eileen gave him a loaf of bread.” Eliza giggled. “She was that mad at him and his grandmother, ’cause the old woman wouldn’t help her get rid of the baby. She put something in the bread. If he’s eaten it, he’ll be long dead and gone and nothing you can do to bring him back, neither.”
Mr. Roberts’ face mirrored Olivia’s own horror. He leapt up, heading for the door. “Where did he go? Which way? Is the lad on horseback?”
Eliza grinned. “He’s gone over towards the west, on foot. I reckon you’ll find young Theodore by the side of the road somewhere, like a rat run over by a horse and cart. So, good luck to you and all your toff friends.” She sat back, arms folded, every trace of misery wiped away by triumph. “You going to let me go, like you promised?”
“Promised? I gave you no promise, my girl. You’re coming with me to find Theodore. What happens to you depends on whether we find him alive or not, so get to your feet while I order the carriage.”
Mr. Roberts grasped Eliza’s arm, none too gently, shouted to Mayhew to keep Hodges locked away until the constable arrived and hustled the maid out of the servants’ hall, through the dark of the middle of the night, around to the stables. Olivia had no intention of being left behind. One look at her face silenced Mr. Roberts’ protests. He set the horse, whinnying with surprise at the midnight alarm, into harness and in moments they were shivering in the night air, clattering down the lane away from the Hall.
After half an hour or so, out of reach of the lights of the Hall, darkness closed in. Heavy clouds still loomed overhead, although the rain held off. Olivia could hardly see a yard in front of her face. Eliza, relieved to be out of the constable’s clutches, at least for now, had lost her fears. Cockiness reasserted itself. “He’ll have covered some ground,” she pointed out.
As they travelled, Mr. Roberts told Olivia the story of Theodore’s older brother. In the dark, lit only by two lanterns on the back of the carriage, Olivia couldn’t make out his face. “Whatever the boy’s done, I owe it to his brother to get Theodore to safety, away from the wickedness of the witch’s coven and their blackmail. He deserves a better life.”
Olivia, glad that darkness lay between them, enjoyed the warmth of Mr. Roberts’ body close to hers. Who knew where this reckless chase in the middle of the night would end? The chances of finding Theodore in time to stop him swallowing poison were slim.
The boy’s story broke Olivia’s heart. No father or mother, a brother killed in desert war and a sister who’d disappeared in disgrace with an unwanted baby. Yet another unmarried girl, trapped into motherhood. Who was the father of her child? Was it another of Major Lovell’s by-blows? The man spread unhappiness and disgrace everywhere he went. Perhaps whoever killed the major did a favour to the world. No. She took a steadying breath. That was wrong. No one had the right to kill another person, except after a fair trial.
Mr. Roberts was murmuring in her ear. “I hope, Miss Martin, you haven’t found this night’s work too distressing?”
“It’s made me think, at least.” She sensed his smile, and a warm tingle spread throughout her body.
“We may find more to give us pause for thought before tonight is over, I’m afraid. I should have left you behind, safe at the Hall. What was I thinking?”
“Well, at least we have a chaperone.”
Mr. Roberts snorted. “So we do. There, Eliza, you’re doing a good turn for us. Did you ever imagine that would happen?”
“I dunno what you mean.”
“Well, maybe that’s as well.” Olivia laughed, too, a little hysterical.
“What’s that?” Mr. Roberts reined in the horse to a halt. “There’s something moving over there.”
“I expect it’s a thief come to overturn us and steal from us,” complained Eliza.
“One of your own, then,” Nelson retorted. “Miss Martin, wait here with Eliza. Eliza, when I return, if I find you’ve moved one inch, you’ll wish you’d never been born.” He took one of the lanterns and set off into the darkness beside the road.
Nelson’s face, lit by the lantern, moved like a ghost among the trees. Olivia strained to hear, for the darkness closed around, hiding him from view.
What if Mr. Roberts walked into danger? Who knew what vagabonds and thieves may be out in the night? Did he have a weapon? Perhaps she should follow.
No. That would be foolish. She must keep Eliza near. It was growing colder. The darkest hour of the night was upon them, and a stiff breeze blew. Olivia pulled her coat tighter.
Time dragged on, and she began to fear the worst. Mr. Roberts was dead, and she was left alone with the snivelling, sullen Eliza, lost in the middle of the countryside. She’d never driven such a carriage as this. How would she manage to get back to the Hall?
At last, she could bear it no longer. She must follow him to find out what was happening. She rose, ready to leap to the ground. Something rustled nearby.
Olivia choked on a scream, then laughed with relief. It was Mr. Roberts, carrying a bundle over his shoulder. He heaved it on to the cart. Theodore.
A new fear gripped Olivia. Were they too late?
Mr. Roberts spoke, his voice urgent. “Miss Martin, I fear he’s taken some of Eileen’s poison. We must return as fast as we can to the Hall.”
“I wonder…” She hesitated a moment. Was she being foolish? She went on, “Should we not take him to his grandmother? If anyone has the skill to overcome the poison, surely it would be she?”
“You’re right. We’ll take him home.”
Eliza whined, “What about me? I done what you said. Are you going to let me go?”
“Well, you can’t get down here, we’ve no time to stop.” Mr. Roberts urged the horse on, the carriage swaying dangerously around the corners. “We’ll decide what to do with you when we get to the cottage.”
“Not the constable, though. You promised.”
“Did I? Well, maybe so. You can go where you like when we get there, though what a girl like you will do all alone, I don’t know.”
Eliza’s face turned grey with fear in the growing dawn light. Olivia took pity on her. “We’ll find a way.”
Eliza needed some sort of a future. The girl would never be allowed back to work at the Hall. There was only one type of work available for girls with no skills or reputation. The oldest profession was a fate too grim for Olivia to contemplate, even for the foolish, angry Eliza.
She had little time to worry, for they arrived at Grandmother Caxton’s cottage just as the sun rose above the horizon. Theodore lay quite still, but Olivia could hear uneven, gasping breaths, evidence that life still lingered.
Chapter Thirty-One
Grandmother Caxton stood at the door of the cottage. Nelson jumped down, lifting Theodore from the carriage, the boy light in his arms. Eliza remained stubbornly silent. Miss Martin put a gentle arm around the woman’s shoulders. Nelson watched the pair walk into the cottage, marvelling at the contrast between the gnarled crone and the beautiful, young woman. Why, Olivia appeared to have quite recovered from the ordeal in the chapel crypt. Tearing his gaze away, Nelson carried the boy into the cottage and laid him on the old mattress. The woman, grey-faced, head trembling, hands shaking, seemed to age another twenty years as she bent over her grandson.
“I don’t know what he’s taken.” Nelson jerked his head towards Eliza. “Maybe she can tell you. Whatever it is, he needs help soon. The pulse is almost gone.”
“I dunno.” Eliza shrugged. “Have to ask Eileen. She’s the one who knows about poison.”
The woman sniffed Theodore’s breath. “Almonds.”
Miss Martin touched the woman’s arm. “Is there anything you can do?”
Grandmother Caxton lifted the corner of a ragged shawl and wiped rheumy eyes. “Make up the fire,” she commanded Nelson, a mild note of authority back in her voice. “Put the kettle on to boil. You,” she nodded at Eliza, “get into the garden and bring the roots that grow behind the radishes.”
The maid seemed to know exactly which herbs were needed.
“The woman seems to have passed on her secrets to half the country,” Nelson grumbled. “It’s a pity that included Eileen Hodges.” Olivia smiled, and his heart turned over.
Grandmother Caxton shook her head at Eliza, scolding. “The old ways should be used for good. I told you that, my girl. I warned you to keep away from Hodges and his followers.” She sighed. “You young things never listen, do you? It’s always the same. Have to make your own mistakes in this world.”
“I never done no harm. I just wanted to know how to do a few spells. You know, make people do what I wanted them to.”
Nelson grinned. “I bet you hoped for a spell that would show the face of your intended, didn’t you? Or one to bring a handsome young man to the kitchen door?”
Eliza blushed.
Grandmother Caxton, busy with cold flannels around Theodore’s head, glared at Nelson. “Don’t mock the girl, young man. There are worse things for a young girl to do. Like that Eileen.”
“She came for help, didn’t she, for the—er…trouble?” Miss Martin blushed. Nelson bit back a laugh. Such delicacy seemed excessive, after today’s adventures.
“She did, but she’d left it too late. Once a new life is under way, it’s not for the likes of me to take it away again. Sacred, that’s what it is, new life.”
No wonder the baker’s daughter had blamed the woman. She’d wanted an easy way out of trouble, and she’d even let Hodges believe Lord Thatcham was the father. The girl’s heart was as black as her father’s.
Nelson grabbed a cloth and took the kettle from the fire. The woman put an earthenware bowl on the table and as Miss Martin and the maid returned, each clasping a bunch of herbs, she crushed the plants in her fists. “Now, then, pour the water on here and let it rest a few moments. Keep Theodore cool with this flannel. He mustn’t overheat, that’s the most important thing.”
Nelson leaned over to take the flannel, but Miss Martin reached it first. Their hands touched for a moment and a jolt, like a lightning shock, travelled through his hand. She gasped, and he knew she’d felt it too.
“Let me.” She pressed the cloth to Theodore’s head. The boy moaned.
It was the first sign of hope that Nelson had seen. “He’s waking!”
The woman shook her head. “He’s rousing a little, but he’ll go deeper into the sleep without this tea. Help me get it in the boy’s mouth.”
Nelson raised Theodore’s shoulders and Olivia held his head, keeping him in position while the grandmother spooned a few drops into his mouth. Most of the liquid trickled out and ran down his chin. “Try again.” At last, when Nelson had almost given up hope, the boy’s lips moved.
“He’s taking it,” Miss Martin cried.
“Aye, well, we need to get it all in him, so don’t you stop yet.” The woman’s voice was stern, but the wrinkled old face broke into a grin. “Maybe we’re not too late, after all.”
Eliza took the bowl. “Let me help,” she muttered. “You sit yourself down.”
At last, the bowl was empty. Nelson peered at Theodore, hoping to see immediate signs of improvement, but the boy’s eyes remained closed. His breathing, though, sounded easier.
The woman pulled her stool next to Theodore’s mattress and settled herself down. “He’ll sleep, now. Maybe he’ll wake after an hour or two, or maybe it’s too late. Only time will tell.”
“In that case, we should return Eliza to the Hall,” Nelson said.
The girl jumped to her feet, panic on her face. “Not the constable? You promised.”
“I did, and I keep my word, but we need to take you back and see what Lord Thatcham wants to do. He’s due back today.”
Miss Martin frowned, deep in thought. “I have an idea. What if I were to speak to Lady Thatcham first? Perhaps she’d be willing to let you learn more from Mother Caxton? The household would benefit from someone in the Hall able to tend the sick.”
Eliza’s face cleared. “Oh, Miss, would you?”
Nelson sh
rugged. “If you think she deserves it.”
The woman cackled. “If we all just got our desserts, we’d none of us live long. You’ve made your own mistakes, young man. Did no one give you a helping hand?”
Nelson stopped halfway to the door and turned. The old woman’s little black eyes bored into his face, as though she saw every thought. “Maybe so,” he muttered, remembering Sir Thomas’s recommendation. It was thanks to the QC Nelson was at the Hall. He winked at the grandmother. “In any case, we need to go. They’ll be wondering what’s become of us.”
Miss Martin gasped. “Oh, lord. I never thought of that. Will they have missed us, do you think?”
“I sincerely hope not, for what the household will make of our riding out at night in this way, heaven alone knows.”
Miss Martin groaned. “My reputation won’t survive. What sort of governess will I make?” Nelson’s elation faded, leaving him tired and sick, his leg aching.
The woman touched a crooked old hand to Miss Martin’s cheek. “Leave worries about the future for another time, my dear. Things may yet turn out as you wish.”
Nelson, bone tired, drove Miss Martin and Eliza back to the Hall. It was light, now, and all three were exhausted.
“Thank heaven it’s over.” Miss Martin’s eyelids drooped. “Eliza, will you make a cup of chocolate, and then I shall go to bed.” The scullery maid, no longer sullen, clattered around the kitchen while Nelson, feet comfortable on the warmth of the range, watched Miss Martin nodding, half asleep on a wooden settle.
The constable had taken Hodges away. Mrs. Bramble, the cook, hadn’t yet arrived in the kitchen, and Mayhew had left to catch an hour’s sleep before the day began. Nelson heaved a long sigh.
Miss Martin’s eyes opened. “Wait.” Her brow was furrowed. “I still don’t understand. Why would Hodges kill Lovell? If he found out he was the father of Eileen’s child, surely he’d try to make him marry her? Once Lovell was dead, the child would never have a father.”
Danger at Thatcham Hall Page 20