Page 67 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“His sister, your aunt the Lady Elizabeth, is eighty.”
“There was a large age gap between the siblings, and she has a healthy constitution. What of it?”
“Nothing,” I said quite honestly. I couldn’t think how it might be relevant, if at all.
“Is that all, Miss Fox? Or have you come to ask me more questions about your aunt’s jealousy of your mother?”
I’d been prepared for her waspishness, but her directness still took me by surprise. I allowed myself a moment in which to settle my jangling nerves. Once my tension eased, I wondered if she went on the attack because she was hiding something. It was a good way to throw me off balance.
It wouldn’t work, however. There was one more thing I needed to discuss with her. “Your husband went out with my cousin last night. Floyd told me all about it.”
“You have spies everywhere.”
“He doesn’t spy for me. He simply gave me his impression of Mr. Browning.”
Mrs. Browning huffed into her teacup before sipping.
“He likened him to Shepherd, actually, in their mutual fondness for young women.” I watched her carefully, but she looked neither surprised nor upset. Even so, I didn’t like myself for telling her. “I’m sorry. That was cruel.”
She lowered the teacup to the saucer and held my gaze with her own. “You can hardly be shocked, after learning Gordon took an interest in me when I was fourteen. But I do want to make one thing clear. Neither he nor Esmond succumbed to their urges with any underage girls.”
“You were seventeen when you married,” I pointed out.
“Old enough for marriage, Miss Fox.”
The conversation had veered from the direction I wanted to take it, so I steered it back. “Did your husband know about your relationship with Shepherd?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t jealous of Esmond if that’s what you’re asking.”
“There was no issue between them? No awkwardness when you visited Hambledon Hall?”
“Why would there be? My husband has no need to be jealous of a gamekeeper.”
“Did they become friends?”
She scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Did you ever see them talking?”
“They had to talk when we went shooting.”
“Are those the only occasions you saw them talking?”
She frowned. “What are you getting at, Miss Fox?”
I sipped my tea to allow the silence to unsettle her into responding. It didn’t work. She sipped her tea, too, and waited. I tried approaching my theory from a different angle. “Did you know some valuable items went missing from Hambledon Hall?”
“No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It appears that Shepherd may have been involved in the thefts, but he must have had help from someone from within the household.”
“Staff can’t be trusted these days.”
“Floyd told me your husband likes to gamble.”
Her eyes flashed. “You think Gordon is in financial difficulty so has been stealing from my brother, along with Esmond. They had a falling out, so Gordon shot him.” She laughed, a brittle sound that raked across my nerves. “I was told you were smart, Miss Fox. What a disappointment to find that you’re simply fanciful.”
“You aren’t in financial difficulty?” I pressed. “Or does your husband not share that information with you?”
