Page 21 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
“Hunt is a surveyor,” Jack explained. “Likes to keep his hand in, even if his blind eye makes it difficult.”
Another victim of war. Rafe nodded understanding and offered specifications where he could, while Walker took notes. His gut wasn’t entirely certain that he wanted to bury ten years of earnings, for which he’d risked his life countless times, into a project that would never be wholly his. But he was learning about his new home and new position in the process, so he’d stick it out a while longer.
Captain Huntley’s fair-haired wife bustled into the room carrying her own list and wearing a worried frown. Jack and Walker politely rose at her entrance, but the captain merely set down his monocle and regarded her expectantly.
“I have shown these initials—” She glanced at Rafe. “From Miss Edgerton’s ledger, correct?” At his nod, she continued. “Elsa and Thea know society far better than I do. They’ve made a list of possibilities. Most of Miss Edgerton’s students at the boarding school would be about our age now or older, which means many are married. We can’t know if the initials represent their married names.” She handed the list over to Rafe, who didn’t recognize a name on it.
“I appreciate this.” He didn’t know what the devil he’d do with it.
“Thea believes one of them is currently teaching at Miss Edgerton’s former boarding school. I put a mark beside her name.She may be how former students were finding their teacher. We’ll make a few discreet inquiries of acquaintances. But we’re reasonably certain none have visited Gravesyde since we’ve been here these last six months.”
“But we might want to look about for their family members or servants,” Rafe suggested, relieved he didn’t have to distress young ladies.
“Noble family members would stand out.” Captain Huntley spoke up. “They’d most likely send servants.”
“Revenge doesn’t seem likely as a motive for wealthy aristocrats to bestir themselves,” Rafe warned.
“Oh, many of them have little better to do and plenty of funds to do it with,” the captain’s bespectacled wife said with a dismissive wave. “But there is also covering up wrongdoing to consider. If anyone thought their precious daughter or wife had been straying—or that they had told Miss Edgerton of a gentleman’s villainy—” She let the thought dangle.
“Or their companions or maidservants might be ordered to cover up any trace of prior indiscretions...” Rafe shook his head. “All I can do is question the neighbors about visitors.”
“Oh, that might be a problem.” Clare, Mrs. Huntley, clasped her hands and smiled too brightly. “Mrs. Holly is the closest neighbor. She called Miss Edgerton a witch and burned crosses in the yard, repeatedly.”
FOURTEEN: VERITY
Verity metMrs. Holly on Monday afternoon while searching for Marmie among the cabbage leaves. The tall scarecrow of a woman, all in black, appeared like a floating wraith over the hedge. Her harsh, angular face and black eyes under a ridge of dark eyebrows nearly scared Verity half to death.
She assumed her neighbor had a stepstool and wasn’t flying.
“If you’re another spawn of Satan, you’ll meet your fate as surely as the last one. Justice is in the eyes of the Lord!”
“One certainly hopes so,” Verity replied uncertainly, after recovering her nerves. “I’m Verity Porter. May I help you?”
Huh. Apparently the new Verity was as servile as the old Faith. Should she have called the old lady a vile name? She’d learned quite a few from sailors in the street. Maybe she’d work up to name calling. But here was a good suspect for murder!
“Burn those wicked weeds! Lock the gates of sinners!” The old witch glimpsed Marmie scampering up the path to hide under Verity’s skirt. “A familiar! You have a familiar already!”
Verity stiffened her spine and tried to sound authoritative like Rafe. “I believe your nearly dead apple tree is of more danger than my kitten. Someone fell out of it the other night, trying to break in.”
Verity tucked the kitten into her apron pocket. She had always wanted neighbors to chat with, but a potential murder suspect or mad woman? Well, how else did she determine who might be guilty? “Would you care to come in for tea and discuss solutions before anyone is hurt?”
The neighbor—who had yet to introduce herself—seemed unable to formulate a reply to a reasonable suggestion.
Fortunately, Mrs. Underhill emerged from the cottage and noted the confrontation. “Rosie, climb down from there before you hurt yourself, and come over for a spot of tea.”
Ah, assertiveness! She should emulate her companion.
Rafe found them in the kitchen when he stomped into the cottage later that afternoon. He frowned at their cozy occupation of his worktable.
Mrs. Holly set down the last of the scones and glared. “Who’s he?”
“Sgt. Russell, dearie,” Mrs. Underhill said, finishing her tea. “The manor’s new bailiff. Sergeant, this is Rose Holly. She’s agreed you might cut back her old apple tree.”
Verity had to muffle a laugh at Rafe’s expression while he worked through the conspiracy of old women to put him to work. She hid her smile behind her teacup.
“Mrs. Holly?” He modified his suspicious tone with a quick bow. “Pleased to meet you. Were you using the apple tree branches for your fiery crosses?”
Fiery crosses?
