Page 17 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
Which made one wonder what circumstances she had fled. People seldom traveled to Gravesyde unless they had no choice.
Meera studied the neatly labeled tins and opened a few to test them. “I don’t see anything as a cause for concern. I’ve already removed the few that might cause irritation if taken in large quantities, but on the whole, these are mostly cooking herbs, tisanes, and teas.”
Mrs. Porter produced a letter from her apron pocket. “I found this in her desk, with others. The requests are...” She handed the paper over rather than explain.
Paul raised his eyebrows at the contents and handed it to Meera. “I am no barrister, but I believe these type of things are illegal?”
Meera scanned the request and shrugged. “Not necessarily, but some can be exceedingly dangerous.” She eyed the cabinet again. “Still, I don’t see any...”
Paul took her place in front of the pantry door, examined the shelves, the width of the door, and ran his hand over the edge. “This shelf isn’t on the wall. It’s essentially freestanding. If there is a means to move it out...” He found a latch behind the door frame.
“He’s a carpenter,” Meera explained to the widow. “He knows how things are put together.”
“Fitting for a man of cloth,” the widow murmured, possibly in amusement. Paul had heard all the jests about Jesus being a carpenter and was happy she refrained from saying more. She gasped as the shelf pulled out, revealing a second set.
Meera pushed him aside to examine the hidden contents. “Bring me a basket, please. Your Miss Edgerton may have been trying to help her former students, but in the wrong hands... My word. Some of these are quite expensive. We can’t grow them here. She had to have ordered them.”
Paul thought the physician sounded more admiring than horrified, one academic to another, he supposed. This was women’s territory, and he wasn’t even married. Neither he nor Minerva had wealth, so they approached marriage cautiously.
Was Meera saying the governess had a closet full of poison? There was motive, indeed.
“Do you think local women may have come to her?” Mrs. Porter asked worriedly. “Might their husbands have objected?”
“I’d say she’s been doing this for a long time to have learned all these ingredients. She knew what she was doing. If so, it’s hard to believe she allowed anyone other than her patients to know what she did, and they had their own reasons for not telling. But if one of her patients passed on the powders to someone desperate, someone who might be too far along, or who used them incorrectly...” Meera sighed and added more tins to her basket. “She could have killed them.”
Which meant both men or women might have wished to eliminate the teacher and her practice. Struggling with the implications, Paul took the heavy basket. “There has been no law in theseparts for years, probably for as long as she lived here. If someone, anyone, lost a loved one and suspected Miss Edgerton, they might take justice into their own hands.”
“I suppose it is possible.” Without her dramatic hat, Mrs. Porter had the appearance of any young woman: fair, unwrinkled complexion, long thick lashes, plump lips, attractive in an ordinary sort of way. “But to have it happen the day I arrive...”
“Coincidence does happen,” he reassured her. “Although I suppose it is possible this person knew you were arriving and thought they should act quickly.”
She visibly shuddered. “Even Miss Edgerton did not know I was coming. Perhaps I am meant to be Job and crushed by a thousand ills.”
“That might be a little presumptuous,” Paul said in amusement, although he had to wonder what had happened to make her think like that.
She offered a vague smile of agreement. “Sorry, but my life has become more dramatic than the theater. There are more letters and a ledger in her desk. Do you have time to take a look and see if the initials mean anything to you? I can fix tea, and Rafe made scones this morning. They are quite delicious.”
Meera shook her head. “I cannot help you with initials, and my baby is still nursing, so I must hurry home. Why don’t I take a look at your foot while I’m here? I’m surmising from the bandage that it is injured?”
Paul had deliberately not looked at the lady’s limb. “I can leave...”
Mrs. Porter shook her head. “Another time, perhaps, but my foot appears to be healing, thank you. It looks uglier than it feels. You need to return to your son.”
Meera shrugged. “I’ll slip out the back gate and up the footpath. You should come to dinner at the manor, if you will be staying for long. We always need more hands. I’m sure we can find work for you, if you need it.”
The widow indicated her plain muslin. “As much as I wouldenjoy a useful occupation, I have no dinner gowns. I understand you have a seamstress?”
“Lavender! Paul, you must bring Mrs. Porter up to meet Lavender. I doubt she has much in fabrics for a widow, but she can ask Henri to find some when he’s in the city.”
The widow blushed. “I am officially out of blacks, but I had nothing else, and they seemed safest for traveling alone. I... lost almost everything to a fire.”
Ah, the reason for seeking a new home. The widow was becoming less of an enigma. Was the injury a result of fire?
Paul opened the kitchen door. “Why don’t I escort Meera back to the manor, and bring Lavender down so you needn’t task that foot? I’ll have Rafe join us. Then we can ponder the ledger while Lavender takes your measurements. You’ll still want to visit the manor to see what she has in stock, but you might feel a little more comfortable if you know her first. She’s quite young but a genius with thread.”
Meera waited until they were out in the lane before murmuring, “Do you really want to know who among your parishioners is paying to rid themselves of children, possibly because the ones they have are starving? Or who might be raping their daughters? Or if someone is attempting to disable an abusive husband? The list of reasons the deceased might have provided those herbs is long and awful.”
Paul’s existence was a result of rape, so he did not ponder the question lightly. It was an age-old problem, never spoken of, so the number of victims were unknown. He was grateful his mother had found an alternative to being rid of him, but she’d been in easy circumstances. As a minister, he’d seen desperate women grateful for miscarriages.
