-16-

Eliza

When Jane and Eliza reached the drawing room, they found it already occupied. George sprawled in the armchair closest to the fire, one leg hooked over the arm and the other stretched towards the grate. He righted himself with an irritating degree of indolence.

"Ladies, am I in your way?"

That much was apparent, as Jane took the other chair, while Eliza moved one from across the room, so that when Henrietta arrived, they might all sit together. The servants arrived but a moment later with a selection of cold cuts and buttered bread, along with Jane's favourite potently brewed tea, and the seemingly ubiquitous bergamot marmalade. Only when there was a cup cradled in her hand did Eliza observe Jane to be truly at ease.

"We had hoped your mother would join us," Jane remarked, finally startling George out of his seat and onto his feet, allowing Eliza to slip, at least temporarily, into the space he'd vacated.

George offered them a rather sickly smile. "Oh, I doubt she'll come down. She's feeling wholly out of sorts."

"No, George, I'm simply out of sorts with you."

Henrietta stormed across the room like she was shipboard and bracing against a gale. She was swaddled in a cashmere shawl of particularly fine quality and a woollen day dress of apple green that flattered her complexion and made her look much younger than her years.

Eliza swapped seats, allowing her the comfort of the chair closest to the blaze, recalling her complaints about the cold on her first evening here. It hardly seemed possible that was only the day before yesterday. So much had happened, it seemed as if she'd been at Cedarton for days upon days between ghosts and fires and intrigue, and of course, her delight at finding Jem here. Thinking of what they'd done in Bell's laboratory and the secret corridor brought a smile to her face that she tried to hide with her hand. George, nevertheless, caught it, and clearly thought her to be smiling at his telling off, judging by his scowl.

There was no opportunity to correct him, for Henrietta made a frantic shooing motion with her hand and set her son on his way with a command of, "Go, George. I'm entirely too horrified by what you have done to look at you."

Jane waited until the tea was poured and George had vanished into the depths of the library before mouthing, "Heavens, whatever has he done?"

Eliza leaned in, equally eager to hear the answer but dubious whether they would hear the truth. After what she'd witnessed between Linfield and George, it seemed to her there were matters afoot that Henrietta might not wish to impart. That was assuming her son's sly behaviour and her current vexation were related.

"It's really nothing to be concerned over." Henrietta smoothed her brow with her fingertips. "Sons are always so taxing. You might recall I warned you of that when you have your own." She forced a smile. "But let's forget George for the time being. How are you, Jane, dear? After so many shocks, I'm astonished to see you risen. And shall we pour this tea?"

Jane at once set about pouring. "No good ever came from idling. I did not wish to remain bed-bound unnecessarily."

"Hardly unnecessarily. Jane, dear, we've all been terribly worried about you. Such shocking turns of events, and you're so dreadfully pale. Are you sure you wouldn't be better from further rest?"

How swiftly she diverted the subject away from George. It made Eliza even more curious to learn what he'd done, and whether it was related to any of the current mysteries at Cedarton.

"Her pallor is likely down to the lack of daylight. This whole house is steeped in gloom. It will be a relief when this fog clears, and we can all venture outdoors and enjoy the gardens. I for one am looking forward to a trekking up onto the surrounding moors."

Eliza's statement was met with a look of absolute horror. Henrietta, she concluded, was the sort who took a conveyance even to cross a square in order to visit a neighbour and would be horrified to learn that Eliza regularly wore out her soles by hiking miles across the open countryside.

"I did so desire your company too," Jane added, handing Henrietta a cup. "There are things I wanted to ask you, woman to woman, for I find myself sadly uninformed about certain matters, and that doesn't seem at all proper. I thought you might be able to shed some light on them."

"Oh, my girl! You poor, uneducated blossom." She clasped a soft hand to her ample bosom. "Of course, I will aid you in whatever manner you desire." She shot a glance at Eliza. "But perhaps such talk is best conducted purely between ourselves." She continued to turn her head to look between Eliza and Jane and muttered something about married women.

Eliza choked back a laugh, that she turned into a cough. "Crumbs," she explained. "Caught in my throat." She lifted her tea, and took a gulp, before taking the cup and saucer with her over to the window bay. Outside, the fog remained thick and isolating. Never mind trekking the moors, as soon as it cleared, she intended to head into the village and seek out the maid who'd been scared off.

"I didn't mean…" Jane began.

"Oh, it's quite all right." Henrietta patted the back of her hand. "You are still newlywed. What is it that…"

"Actually, you and George were the first to reach me after my shock the other night. I wondered what you saw."

"Saw? Why not a thing, I assure you. You fell into a faint in George's arms, or rather I should say he caught you. Likely he saved you a nasty bump. I guess the great lummox has his qualities. I'll not let it be said that I didn't bring him up to be a proper gentleman. We heard you cry, dear. We'd been in my room talking, and he rose in a trice, ran straight out to you, and a good thing too. I followed; I'll admit rather more timidly. Then, everyone else arrived hardly a moment later. I didn't see a thing, I'm afraid."

"Not a shadow? Something out of place?"

Henrietta decisively shook her head, then sipped her tea.

"I'm sorry that you rose from your bed simply to ask me that."

"No, no, It's fine. There are some other things too."

"I'm afraid I can tell you nothing of the fire. I was near last to arrive. I suppose the girl's been dismissed. Silly creature. Awfully clumsy. The result could have been dire."

"I didn't mean that, and if it was just a clumsy accident, then I think we might extend her a second chance and be glad if she stayed on." Jane raised her head to seek Eliza's backup. "We're too many for the few servants here as is without dismissing them and causing discord. No, what I want to ask you about is why we're here at Cedarton?"

"Why we're…" Henrietta's mouth closed tight, while her hand jiggled, causing tea to fill the saucer. For a moment, Eliza thought she would bring the saucer to her lips as she herself would have done if she were home before the kitchen fire, but instead Henrietta set the porcelain aside. "Whatever do you imagine… I'm sure I don't know anything. Not more than you, Jane, or even Eliza, who has only been with us since yestereve."

Unrelenting, Jane pressed again. "But something happened in London, did it not, that caused Linfield to insist on us coming here? I feel certain you must know what it is. Won't you share that knowledge with us?"

"Oh! Oh, you mean that. Why I thought… you mean, you don't know? But talk in town has been of little else."

"I have not been in London. Our marriage took place in York."

"I see. Well."

Jane levelled her guest with doleful eyes. "You see, I'm quite oblivious. I beg you to take pity. Won't you enlighten us?"

"My dear, of course. Yes." She nodded her head as she took a tight hold of Jane's hand. "You should of course know all. I cannot believe… Why that man! To think that he has not told you, his wife." She settled herself like a nesting hen. "You must know I'm not one for gossip, but there has been a deal of speculation about the incident. It was an accident of course. You must not imagine that you're wed to a murderer."

"Beg your pardon!" Eliza gasped, returning in a hurry from the window bay. She pressed a reassuring touch to Jane's shoulders, and found her friend seated with a rigid spine.

Henrietta seemed to be enjoying the discomposure she'd prompted. She was fluffed up and literally bursting to get her words out. "It's all quite frightful. Are you sure I can't spare you the details? Perhaps we could talk of something else. I heard the groundsman talking to one of the maids earlier, about a gang of smugglers operating hereabouts."

Smugglers! They were at least thirty miles from the sea.

"Henrietta, won't you please tell us about London and whatever has transpired?" Eliza settled on the arm of Jane's chair. She had not minded Henrietta much before this point, but her tolerance for the woman was rapidly decaying. She was the most intolerable tease, drawing this out, and making them work to hear whatever disturbing wisdom she had to depart for the sake of dramatics. It was surely for dramatics.

"Dear Jane," Henrietta clasped both her hands tightly. "Let me put this to you in the most straightforward manner as possible. A woman died, and while Linfield cannot possibly be seen as culpable, it was his phaeton that struck her."

It was clear from the anguish on Jane's face that the words ‘culpable' and ‘murder' were still ringing in her ears exactly as Henrietta intended them to. "Perhaps you might start at the beginning of this tale rather than it's centre."

"Of course, Miss Wakefield. Jane, you may not be aware, but your husband is a sportsman with a passion for carriage racing."

"Wait!" Eliza hopped onto her feet again. "I read about this in the newspaper. A woman ran into the path of the racing carriages and was struck. I believe she died at the scene."

"Yes. Yes, exactly that," Henrietta huffed, evidently put out to have the story stolen from her, but equally determined to steal it back. Eliza only too happily let her, choosing only to add helpful additions to better steer the narrative, and ensure Henrietta left nothing out.

"Oh, but this is frightful," Jane said, tears brewing in her pretty eyes.

"Very." Henrietta agreed, still clutching Jane's hand. "George witnessed the whole thing, being part of the race. He managed to swerve to avoid her, but Linfield hadn't the time. His horses ploughed straight into her, and the carriage did the rest of her work. Cut her down and broke her neck." She made the sign of the cross. "God rest her soul. Doctor Bell attended to her, along with the other fellow, Whistler."

Jem had witnessed this.

"It's frightful. Truly frightful, but you mustn't fret over it, Jane. It will all blow over soon enough, as these things inevitably do, and you can go back to London. There really isn't any question of it being his fault."

"His fault. Why would anyone even suggest it was his fault that a stranger ran out in front of him?"

"I'm sure I didn't mean to suggest—"

"Then why would you say it?"

Henrietta threw up her hands. "I was simply repeating what others have said. I didn't mean to suggest I thought him responsible. Though I do question the need for gentlemen to turn every blessed thing into a sporting event. All they care for are wagers and…" Her words petered out. "My apologies. We all have our little flash points, and gambling does tend to spur me into a froth. So wasteful, and entirely unnecessary."

"Is that why you are vexed with George?"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Wakefield. Whatever are you implying?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I think I misheard what you were saying. Forgive me." She gave the older woman a curtsy.

"Yes, well."

"Linfield's not in debt, is he?" Jane half rose from her seat in alarm. Eliza nudged her back down again, by thrusting a plate of cake at her. Her friend's sweet tooth instantly won.

"Linfield? Heavens no," Henrietta gave an awkward little chortle. "Of course not." She stood. "Do you mind awfully if I go, Jane, dear? I fear I have a frightful headache coming on. I should probably seek out Doctor Bell and see if he can't provide something."

"Of course. Eliza, maybe you could—"

"I'll see Doctor Bell at once."

"Mrs Cluett," Eliza called, bringing her exit to a momentary halt. "What was the name of the girl? I can't seem to recall it."

"The girl?" She blinked at Eliza as if she were a boggart straight off the moors. "I'm sure I don't know. Fairfield, Furlough, Finlay, was it? It hasn't stuck in my head. I don't know why you imagine it would."

"How awful to be cut down so cruelly and not to be remembered," Jane remarked once Henrietta was gone. "Why do you think she did it? And why did you ask Henrietta her name?"

Eliza cast herself into the seat the older woman had vacated. It was lumpen and not terribly comfortable and had the sort of back that induced one to slouch. "I don't suppose we'll ever know her reasoning."

"Addled in the head, do you think?"

"Oh, yes, delicate and hysterical, I imagine. Isn't that always reportedly the case?" She sighed, vexed by the injustices of the world. As if anyone ever ran into the path of a carriage without a sane and sound reason. "I just wondered if she knew it. I don't know, Jane, none of it seems at all connected to what's going on here at Cedarton, but somehow, I'm sure it must be. Did you see how prickly Henrietta was at the suggestion that Georgie was in debt? I think him swerving to avoid that girl cost him far more than the race."

"Maybe, though you did rather insult her."

She'd merely been plainspoken. "I saw George rifling through the desk drawers in Linfield's study the night afore last and watched them knock one another about over it. George was looking for something. He didn't find it, but he found something, and whatever it was made Linfield fiercely cross. I'm not sure that it was just money that George lost."

"Do you think Henrietta knows?"

"Of course she knows. That's why she was so out of sorts with him."

"Well, what do you think he lost?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure it even matters, outside of it being a motive for mischief." In truth, she was more interested in whatever it was that George had found and that he'd refused to hand over to Linfield.

Meanwhile, Jane had left her chair to rummage in the sideboard. She straightened after a moment, triumphant, an old newspaper clutched in her hand. "Here, there's a piece about the race. It seems some other fellow won. Just nipped ahead of Linfield due to the collision, but doesn't that mean…? Wait, it says the result was declared void, and no winner was named. So maybe your theory of debt isn't right."

"They might have made a wager between themselves, separate to the overall outcome of the race." Eliza perused the article over Jane's shoulder. It was the same one she'd read before. The details were scant, and largely concentrated on the race, rather than the poor woman's untimely death. However, Henrietta had mentioned Jem's presence at the event, so she meant to find him and ask him about it. She wouldn't leave Jane here alone though.

"You know, I'm inclined to agree with Henrietta," her friend declared. "What the devil is the point in it all? Why wager something you can ill afford to lose?"

"External pressure. Isn't that the reason why most of us cave in to doing things we really oughtn't? You wouldn't be tied to Linfield otherwise, nor he to you, and then you wouldn't be here in harm's way."

"It could simply be coincidence that I'm the one who's seen the ghost, and my bed curtain's catching fire."

Eliza huffed, grateful at least that her friend hadn't suggested a supernatural cause.

"Also, I don't rightly see what George owing Linfield money has to do with me."

Nor did she, but she was certain there was a connection. Something connected all the things going on.

"You're cogitating," Jane said. "Have some cake, it might help. Cake always helps me to think things over." She mopped the crumbs from the plate she was holding, then helped herself to another slice.

Eliza didn't require cake. She needed to talk to Jem. There was no way to unravel this puzzle without all the pieces, and presently she was missing far too many of them.