Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Catherine urged her horse faster, the cool night air whipping her hair as she rode away from Wessex Manor. Her heart pounded in her chest, a strong grief threatening to overwhelm her. The weight of the stolen letter a constant reminder of her mission.

As the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, Catherine slowed her horse to a trot. She had been riding for hours, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Edward. The thought of him waking up alone, reading her hastily scribbled note, made her chest ache. But she pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on her purpose.

In the middle of the night, it had become so clear to her. Someone had to know more about the Wessex household—and who better than the former staff. If she could find them, perhaps she could find the truth as well. Perhaps she could find some understanding.

Catherine guided her horse toward the village near Wessex Manor. She knew she couldn’t stay there long—if he were inclined to search for her, Edward would surely look for her there first — but it was the best place to start her search for the former staff members.

As she approached the outskirts of the village, Catherine spotted a small cottage with smoke rising from the chimney. She remembered hearing from Emily that the former housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, had retired to a cottage in the village. Taking a deep breath, Catherine dismounted and approached the door.

Her knock was answered by a plump, elderly woman with kind eyes and white hair pulled back in a tight bun. “Yes? How can I help you, dear?”

“Mrs. Potts?” Catherine asked hesitantly. At the woman’s nod, she continued, “My name is Catherine Winslow. I... I need to speak with you about Wessex Manor.”

Mrs. Potts’ eyes narrowed slightly, but she stepped aside. “Come in, child. You look half-frozen.”

Inside, the cottage was warm and cozy. Mrs. Potts bustled about, preparing tea while Catherine perched nervously on the edge of a worn armchair.

“Now then,” Mrs. Potts said, setting a steaming cup before Catherine, “what’s this about Wessex Manor? You’re not one of the current staff, are you?”

Catherine shook her head. “No, I... I was Emily’s governess. But I’ve left my position. Mrs. Potts, I need to know about the night Lord and Lady Wessex died. Was there anything unusual? Anyone acting strangely?”

Mrs. Potts’ face darkened. “Aye, it was a terrible night. The whole house in an uproar. Young Lord Wessex, finding his parents like that...” She shuddered. “As for strange behavior, well... we were all let go except for that strange man. Why, I always wondered why Lord Wessex chose to keep him on considering how odd he was”

Catherine leaned forward eagerly. “The butler? What about him?”

“He was calm. Too calm, if you ask me,” Mrs. Potts said, her voice lowering as if she feared being overheard. “While the rest of us were in shock, Samuel just... carried on. Took charge of everything. I am sure it was him who suggested keeping on a skeleton staff, him who convinced his lordship to let the rest of us go.”

Catherine’s mind whirled with this new information. “Did Mr. Harper ever express any... discontent with his position? Or with the Montagues?”

Mrs. Potts’ eyes widened. “Oh my, yes. Samuel always had a chip on his shoulder about the family’s wealth. I heard him muttering more than once about the unfairness of it all. How some were born to luxury while others slaved away in service. Nasty little fellow he was.”

Catherine’s heart raced. This was more than she’d dared hope for. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts. You’ve been incredibly helpful. I am sorry to be rude, but I must leave now.”

As she rose to her feet, Mrs. Potts caught her arm. “Be careful, child. If you’re digging into the past, you might not like what you find.”

“Mrs. Potts,” she pleaded now, her voice soft. “Is there anyone else I could talk to? Any of the other staff members?”

Mrs. Potts looked at her with a strange understanding, then nodded. “Yes,” she said at last. “Mr. Simmons. Runs the local pub right here in the village. He was the groundskeeper.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” Catherine muttered before setting off to the pub at once, hardly feeling the cold as she rushed forth.

The Three Feathers tavern was quiet in the early morning hours. A grizzled man with a limp was sweeping the floor as Catherine entered.

“Mr. Simmons?” she called softly.

He looked up, surprise evident on his weathered face. “Aye, that’s me. We’re not open yet, miss.”

“I’m not here for a drink,” Catherine explained quickly. “I need to talk to you about Wessex Manor. About the night Lord and Lady Wessex died.”

Mr. Simmons’ face hardened. “That’s not a night I like to remember, miss. Why are you asking?”

Catherine took a deep breath. “I… I am worried about the earl,” she explained. “And Lady Emily. I just… I want to know what happened. Please, Mr. Simmons. Anything you remember could be crucial.”

The old groundskeeper studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Alright. But not here. Come round the back.”

In the small garden behind the pub, Mr. Simmons lit a pipe and settled onto a bench. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you notice anything unusual that night? Anyone behaving strangely?”

Mr. Simmons puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. “Can’t say as I did. But in the weeks leading up to it... there was something off about Samuel Harper. The butler,” he said thoughtfully, and Catherine looked down at her hands, her heart racing.

“Off how?” she pressed, fear threatening to consume her.

“He was skulking about at odd hours. I’d see him leaving the house late at night, returning just before dawn. And he was meeting with someone. A woman, I think. Couldn’t make out who she was, but she seemed... fancy. Not from around here.”

Catherine’s mind raced. Could this mysterious woman be connected to the letter she’d found? “Did you ever confront Mr. Harper about these meetings?”

Mr. Simmons shook his head. “Wasn’t my place. But I did mention it to old Lord Wessex. He thanked me, said he’d look into it. That was just days before...” He trailed off, his eyes growing distant. “Actually, the stable master might know something too. Old Tom—he has a cottage on the edge of the village.”

Catherine closed her eyes as gratitude coursed through her. She could not help but wonder if Edward had never considered doing exactly this: asking some of the former staff about his parents’ death. She supposed he did not—if Mr. Harper was truly involved, she was certain that he would have made sure Edward mistrusted everyone who could point a finger at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Simmons,” she muttered, stifling a yawn before setting off to find Old Tom.

The elderly man was tending to a small vegetable garden when Catherine approached. “Excuse me,” she called as she drew closer to him. “Are you Tom? The old stable master at Wessex manor?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who might be askin’, lassie?”

“My name is Catherine Winslow,” she explained as she approached him. “I am the… was… the governess for Lady Emily Montague.”

At once, his expression softened. “Lady Emily, you say? I hope she’s well. She was a lovely child. But it’s been a long time since I thought about that place. What’s your interest, girl?”

“I… I want to know who killed them. The Lord and Lady Wessex,” she explained quickly. “And I think that the butler—Sam Harper—may have been involved.”

Old Tom listened silently, his gnarled hands never ceasing their work in the soil.

“Aye, there was something not right about Sam,” he said finally. “Always had a mean streak, that one. Treated the horses poorly when he thought no one was looking.”

“Did you ever see him do anything suspicious?” Catherine asked.

Old Tom straightened up with a groan. “Matter of fact, I did. Night before it happened, I was up late with a foaling mare. Saw Sammy sneaking out to the old gamekeeper’s cottage. Thought it was odd, that place had been abandoned for years. Came back hours later, skulking about again.”

Catherine’s pulse quickened. “Did you tell anyone about this?”

Old Tom shook his head. “Next morning, all hell broke loose with the deaths. In the chaos, I... I forgot about it. Until now.”

As Catherine prepared to leave, Old Tom called after her. “Be careful, lass. If Sammy had something to do with those deaths... well, he’s had years to cover his tracks. And he won’t take kindly to someone digging them up.”

“Thank you,” Catherine muttered, her heart heavy. She needed a safe place to process all this new information. The answer came quickly and clearly. The Ashdown estate. Charlotte and Sophia had always been kind to her, and their home was far enough from Wessex Manor to give her some breathing room.

As she urged her horse toward the Ashdown estate, Catherine’s heart twinged with painful fear—though a spark of hope threatened to take flight in her. She was closer to the truth, she could feel it. But with each revelation, the danger seemed to grow. And always, in the back of her mind, was the image of Edward waking to find her gone.

Still—as sorry as she was, she was doing this to protect him. She could only hope that he would forgive her in time—and even if he did not, as long as he was safe, it was worth it.

The sun was already setting as Catherine approached the gates of the Ashdown estate, her body aching from the long day of riding and her mind heavy with the weight of her discoveries.

As she dismounted, Catherine saw a familiar figure rushing down the path toward her. Charlotte Ashdown’s face was a pure picture of joy as she approached her. “Miss Winslow! What on earth are you doing here?”

Catherine managed a weak smile, the events of the day catching up with her all at once. “Charlotte,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I... I need your help.”

Catherine followed Charlotte into the drawing room, where Sophia was curled up with a book. The younger Ashdown sister leapt to her feet at the sight of Catherine, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Miss Winslow! What a delightful surprise! But... are you quite alright? You look rather pale.”

Catherine managed a weak smile. “I’ve had a long journey, Sophia. But I’m so glad to see you both.”

Charlotte rang for tea while Sophia fussed over Catherine’s windblown hair. Once they were all settled, with steaming cups in hand, Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes serious.

“Mother and Father are not here,” she explained. “It is only us—but I know they would allow you to stay as well. Now then, Miss Winslow. Tell us what’s happened. Why have you left Wessex Manor? Is it Lord Wessex? Has he mistreated you?”

Catherine’s heart clenched at the mention of Edward. “No, no,” she said quickly. “Lord Wessex has been... kind. But I fear there’s something sinister afoot at Wessex Manor.”

She took a deep breath, weighing her words carefully. “I’ve discovered some... troubling information. About the murder of Lord Wessex’s parents.”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Sophia said softly. “But surely you do not know who it could have been?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” Catherine admitted. “But I have reason to suspect... and I need to know the truth. For the earl’s sake. For Emily’s.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “But why you, Miss Winslow? Surely this is a matter for the authorities?”

Catherine shook her head. “It’s... complicated. I can’t involve the authorities, not without proof. And I can’t tell Lord Wessex my suspicions, not yet. It would devastate him if I’m wrong.”

She paused, struggling to find the right words. “I care deeply for the Montagues. For Emily, and... and for Lord Wessex. I couldn’t bear to see them hurt further.”

The sisters exchanged a knowing look. “You love him,” Sophia said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Catherine felt her cheeks flush. “My feelings are... not relevant. What matters is uncovering the truth and keeping the Montagues safe.”

Charlotte reached out and squeezed Catherine’s hand. “Of course. And we’ll help you, won’t we, Sophia?”

Sophia nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. What do you need from us, Miss Winslow?”

Catherine’s shoulders sagged with relief. “For now, just a place to stay while I gather more information. And... discretion. If anyone comes looking for me...”

“We’ll say we haven’t seen you,” Charlotte finished firmly. “You can trust us, Miss Winslow.”

Over the next hour, Catherine shared what she had learned from Mrs. Potts, Mr. Simmons, and Old Tom.

Charlotte shook her head firmly. “It was the butler, wasn’t it?” she insisted as the tale ended, and Sophia nodded eagerly.

“It’s clear he had some sort of grudge against the family,” Catherine admitted. “But I can’t understand why he would remain at Wessex Manor if he was involved in the deaths. It doesn’t make sense.”

Sophia, who had been listening with rapt attention, suddenly sat up straight. “Unless... unless he stayed to finish the job.”

Catherine and Charlotte turned to her, startled. “What do you mean?” Catherine asked.

“Well,” Sophia said slowly, “if Mr. Harper truly hated the Montagues, killing the parents might not have been enough. Perhaps he stayed to... to harm Lord Wessex and Lady Emily as well.”

A chill ran down Catherine’s spine. Though she had considered the possibility, feared it really, it was something different to hear it out loud—and it filled her with dread. “I believe you are right, Sophia,” she said quietly. “Which makes it even more crucial that I uncover the truth quickly.”

Charlotte stood up decisively. “Right then. We’ll have a room prepared for you, Miss Winslow. You must be exhausted after your journey. Tomorrow, we can start making inquiries about any other former Wessex Manor staff in the area.”

Catherine nodded gratefully. “Thank you both, truly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.”

As she followed Sophia to the guest room, Catherine’s mind whirled with possibilities. What would she learn from the other staff members? And how long before Edward realized where she had gone?

The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Catherine, with the help of Charlotte and Sophia, tracked down several more former Wessex Manor employees. Each conversation added another piece to the puzzling picture of Samuel Harper and the events surrounding the Montagues’ deaths.

A former kitchen maid recalled Mr. Harper’s increasing resentment toward the family’s wealth, while a footman remembered strange comings and goings late at night in the weeks leading up to the tragedy. However, none could provide concrete evidence of Mr. Harper’s involvement in the deaths.

On the third day of Catherine’s stay, as they were reviewing their notes in the drawing room, a commotion at the front door caught their attention. Charlotte went to investigate, returning moments later with a pale face.

“Miss Winslow,” she said urgently. “It’s Lord Wessex. He’s here, asking after you.”

Catherine’s heart leapt into her throat. “He can’t find me,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not yet. Not until I’ve uncovered the truth.”

The sisters nodded in understanding. “We’ll handle this,” Charlotte assured her. “Go upstairs and stay out of sight.”

From her hiding place at the top of the stairs, Catherine could hear Edward’s deep voice, tinged with worry and frustration.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Ashdown, but I must know if you’ve seen Miss Winslow. She’s... she’s missing, and I fear she may be in danger.”

Charlotte’s reply was calm and steady. “I’m sorry, Lord Wessex, but we haven’t seen Miss Winslow. Is there anything we can do to help in the search?”

Edward’s sigh was audible even from Catherine’s position. “No, thank you. But if you do hear from her, please let her know that... that she’s not in any trouble. I just want to ensure her safety.”

“Of course, Lord Wessex. We’ll be sure to pass along the message if we hear anything.”

As the front door closed behind Edward, Catherine slumped against the wall, her heart aching. She longed to run after him, to explain everything and seek comfort in his arms. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she had the truth.

Charlotte and Sophia found her there, tears streaming down her face. Without a word, they enveloped her in a comforting embrace.

“He sounded worried,” Catherine whispered. “If only he knew that he was in far more danger than I am… and I am hiding from him, turning my back on him….”

“You’re doing this to protect him,” Sophia reminded her gently. “He’ll understand when it’s all over.”

Catherine nodded, wiping her eyes. “You’re right. We need to keep going. There must be something we’re missing, some connection we haven’t made yet.”

As they returned to the drawing room, Catherine’s resolve strengthened. She would solve this mystery, no matter the personal cost. For Edward’s sake, for Emily’s, she would see justice done.

The next day brought a breakthrough. A former gardener, initially reluctant to speak, finally opened up after much coaxing. “Overheard an argument between Harper and her ladyship,” he said as he sat down in the drawing room, looking rather out of place between the delicate furniture.

“Her ladyship was furious,” the old man recounted. “Said something about ’knowing what you’ve done’ and ’telling my husband everything.’ I didn’t understand it at the time, but now…”

This new information sent Catherine’s mind racing. What had Lady Wessex discovered? And could it have been the catalyst for the terrible events that followed?

As she shared this latest development with Charlotte and Sophia, a knock at the door interrupted their discussion. The sisters exchanged worried glances before Charlotte went to answer it.

She returned moments later. “It’s a Mr. Hawkins,” she explained, and Catherine’s eyes widened. She remembered the old coachman who had told her so long ago that he still did work for Edward even though he was no longer permanently under his employment. Had he found her on Edward’s behalf?

It was a risk and still, Catherine could not send the man away. What if he knew something more?

With a deep breath, she nodded. “Show him in, please.”

Mr. Hawkins entered, his weathered face grave. He bowed slightly to Catherine before speaking. “Begging your pardon, Miss Winslow, but I’ve come on my own accord. Lord Wessex doesn’t know I’m here.”

Catherine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What is it, Mr. Hawkins? Has something happened?”

The old coachman twisted his hat in his hands. “It’s Mr. Harper, miss. I... I’ve long had my suspicions about him, but I never had proof. But last night, I… well, I was helping his lordship really—looking for you. I was there, at the manor and I overheard him talking to someone in the stables. A woman, by the sound of it. They were arguing about... about finishing what they started.”

Catherine felt the blood drain from her face. “Did you hear anything else? Any names?”

Mr. Hawkins shook his head. “No, miss. But I did see the woman leave. She was wearing a fine cloak, like a lady’s. And she dropped this.”

He held out a small, ornate locket. Catherine took it with trembling hands, her mind whirling. Could this be the mysterious woman Mr. Simmons had mentioned? The one Mr. Harper had been meeting in secret?

As she turned the locket over in her hands, Catherine felt a sense of both triumph and dread. She was close to the truth, she could feel it. But with each new piece of information, the danger seemed to grow.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins,” she said softly. “You’ve been incredibly brave in coming to me with this.”

The old man nodded. “I’ve served the Montagues for many years, miss. I couldn’t stand by and watch harm come to Lord Wessex or Lady Emily. But please, be careful. If Sam Harper suspects anyone knows…”

“I understand,” Catherine assured him. “I’ll be discreet.”

As Mr. Hawkins took his leave, Catherine turned to Charlotte and Sophia, her eyes shining with determination. “We’re close,” she said. “I can feel it. We just need to put all these pieces together.”

The sisters nodded, their faces mirroring Catherine’s resolve. “We’re with you, Miss Winslow,” Charlotte said firmly. “Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

As night fell over the Ashdown estate, Catherine sat by the window, the locket clutched in her hand. She thought of Edward; of the pain and worry she must be causing him. But she also thought of the danger he and Emily might still be in, unknowingly living under the same roof as a potential murderer.

“I’m doing this for you, Edward,” she whispered into the darkness. “For you and Emily. I only hope you can forgive me when it’s all over.”