Page 14 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
The larger side of the loft held a simple bed covered in an artistic patchwork quilt adorned with rings of blue roses. The smaller side had a cot with a folded blanket. Both sides had chests of drawers and a washstand. The larger side had a wardrobe and small mirror.
Verity thought she might sleep on the cot. It appeared virtually untouched. She opened the chest on that side and found it empty. The meager belongings she’d purchased after the fire would fit in there just fine.
There were even shelves for the small library she’d hidden inthe shed and had crated up before she left. After her mother died, she’d worked her way through all her father’s shelves, saving books she wished to re-read, selling the boring ones. She had some lovely geographies she’d love to see again.
Uncle Warren had never missed the beautiful volumes. She’d tidied his office by stacking his ledgers in the empty spaces. She’d hoped that one day, she’d save enough coins to leave home and support herself, but she’d have been dead before that happened.
Now, she had her savings, plus much more. How much did cottages cost? More than she had, she supposed. But at least she was thinking a little bit again.
Reluctantly, she opened the tall wardrobe. Miss Edgerton had been tall and slender. Her clothes wouldn’t fit Verity. She’d not have felt right wearing them, anyway. She laid out each piece separately, checking for pockets and folding everything neatly. As she’d expected, the fabric was of good quality, but well worn. The quilt had probably been made of pieces too worn to wear. Miss Edgerton wore a lot of blue.
She emptied the drawers, finding nothing of value there either. She’d have to ask the church ladies if anyone could use the clothes.
She should search the desk and bookshelves downstairs next. Had Miss Edgerton known her killer? Known what he or she wanted? Her last words made it seem so, but she might be imagining what she wanted to believe.
Verity was about to head downstairs again when she noticed the rag carpet on the floor.Floorboards. The entire loft had floorboards, and there would be a ceiling below the joists, creating a space.
The hound barked a greeting. She peered out the narrow, mullioned window. The sergeant was returning already, a basket over his arm. Had she ever seen a man carrying a market basket? But he was so huge, no one would dare mock him for it. She realized she’d lived a narrow, if not sheltered life. Men who cooked...
Did she dare trust him with Miss Edgerton’s last words? Notyet. She didn’t know exactly when he’d arrived in the village. She had only his word for it.
She despised suspecting everyone, but after her uncle’s venal treachery, and all she’d seen of London’s cruelty, she did not trust easily. Or at all.
But she needed to eat and knowing a very large man and his dog stood guard at her door somehow made her feel a little safe. Foolish, she supposed, and how Miss Edgerton had gotten herself poisoned.
Since, at the moment, she was a perfectly worthless bit of flotsam, did it matter if anyone poisoned her? Who would miss her? No one. To the world, she was already dead. That was a very sad commentary.
Now that she had freedom, she needed to determine what she wanted. Since she would never be grand and glamorous and certainly had no interest in marrying, she was fairly certain she ought to aim for useful.
Miss Edgerton had been more than useful but Verity had no formal teacher’s training and knew nothing of herbs. Or much of anything else.
She hobbled down the stairs in time to find Rafe unloading his purchases on the kitchen table. “How do I know you won’t poison me? Do I need to catch a mouse and test everything on him? I hate tormenting poor creatures.” She’s saved up a lot of worrying in his absence.
He actually grinned. His was a plain face, with a large square jaw and broad brow and pale lashes. But when he smiled... Her insides lurched and she had to look away.
“I’ll happily taste everything before serving it to you, if you like. Poisoning good food is a sin. Miss Edgerton’s downfall was drinking nasty herbal tea, which tastes like poison even if it’s good for you.” He set out a loaf of crusty bread and what appeared to be meat wrapped in bloody paper. “I’ve asked about for a maid. One or two should be showing up for you to interview.”
“Thank you.” She supposed she should be grateful. She’d never had a maid of her own. At fifteen, when she’d lost most everything that truly mattered, she hadn’t even been putting up her hair. She supposed a country maid was more likely to dust and do laundry. She had so much to learn.
Since she was being impolite and exploring, she entered the large larder to examine its contents. Jars of neatly labeled herbs and potions lined half the shelves. The rest contained mundane ingredients like flour and tea. “The man at the mercantile said Miss Edgerton would receive her elixir tomorrow. What exactly constitutes an elixir?” She carried out the tin labeled tea.
Rafe was adding kindling to the fire and already had a kettle heating. “I think of it as a sweet liqueur to be mixed with medicines, but I should think Miss Edgerton could ferment one with honey and any kind of alcohol. Although I suppose, ale and cider are about the only alcohol she might buy here.”
“The fermentation process can be complicated, I suppose.” She nodded knowledgeably while spooning tea leaves into the pot. If she’d ever read about such a thing, her eyes had probably crossed.
“Not really, if one has the proper ingredients. Birmingham has half a dozen large breweries these days, so the ingredients are available. I’d like to make my own ale and porter.” He poured boiling water into the teapot.
He had dreams. She didn’t, not anymore.
Verity scooped up the kitten circling her ankles, threatening to unbalance her. She rubbed noses with it, loving the rumbling purr. If she could stay here... Even that was too far to plan. She set the kitten outside to roam. “I think I’ll see what books are on the shelves. That might give us a better idea of what she’s been doing.”
He opened the meat paper and began chopping. “Unless she was independently wealthy, she had to earn a living somehow. Although she may have been paid in food.”
“Someone knows something. I cannot imagine she let in a complete stranger or that one would have any reason to kill her.”That’s what had been bothering her. Miss Edgerton was unlikely to know an army officer and a stranger to town like Rafe. She helped women, mostly, and those would be the ones she’d share tea with.
Horribly sad to think that a woman she’d helped had killed her.
Verity carried her tea to the narrow desk. It only had a few drawers. She checked those first, finding a ledger of expenses and other amounts she assumed to be income. Verity had spent these last ten years in a countinghouse. On long boring nights in an empty counting house, she had taught herself how to read ledgers. But Miss Edgerton’s initials and amounts meant very little. She could assumeBldna 2smight be a rather expensive herb. The initials of the buyer were meaningless until she learned the names of the locals. She’d seen herbs sold at the market, so such sales wouldn’t be unusual.
