Page 39 of A Captain, a Corpse, and Miss Bridges
“It’s possible Henderson may be lying,” James said with a shrug. “But if he is, time is on our side with the roads impassable.”
He recalled overhearing Mrs Pinnock’s eagerness to be off to Bath—was that another clue? And had she not been top of Flora’s list of those who might have had opportunity to steal the wolfsbane?
“So you believe we should bide our time and look more closely at Mrs Pinnock?” Crabb asked with a frown.
James quickly explained Flora’s theory—that Mrs Pinnock had lost part of her fortune to bad investment advice from Sir Ambrose. The viscount’s brows shot up, then he gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“The brandy bottle, her sudden journey to Plumpton, her taste for revenge…” James concluded. “It sounds absurd to imagine an elderly lady committing murder, but there’s more to her than we credited.”
And Flora, he thought with a stir of admiration, had been the first to see it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FLORA HURRIED ALONGthe road from Brackenfield, her shawl pulled close around her. Her mind was a whirl of anxiety as she contemplated her first meeting of the Plumpton Parish Ladies’ Society. Mrs Mifford had called on her personally the previous evening to extend the invitation—though invitation was perhaps too gentle a word. It had felt rather more like a summons.
Half lost in thoughts of what was to come—and worried the other ladies might object to her presence—Flora started when a tall figure appeared round the bend.
“Miss Bridges,” Captain Thorne greeted, his hat already in hand. He looked a little bashful. “What a coincidence.”
His voice—usually a pleasant deep timbre—jumped oddly high on the word coincidence. Flora looked at him curiously, and he blushed.
“In truth, I came this way in the hopes of meeting you,” he confessed, giving a rueful laugh. “Though I dawdled so long that I was in danger of being charged with loitering by Mr Marrowbone.”
“Mr Marrowbone would never think to act on his own initiative,” Flora assured him, hoping the smile upon her face did not look as stupidly pleased as she felt. He had been waiting for her!
“May I walk with you to the village?” the captain asked, offering his arm.
“I could think of nothing nicer,” she replied, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.
They went a few steps in companionable silence before Flora remembered herself.
“How went your meeting with Mr Henderson?” she asked, forcing her thoughts back to reality.
His presence had so lifted her spirits that she had momentarily forgotten she was still suspected of murder. If she could capture his essence and bottle it, she thought wryly, she would make a fortune—though she rather doubted she could bring herself to share him.
“Well, your suspicions were correct about one person,” he answered, a little mysteriously.
“Mr Henderson?” Flora looked up at him.
“No—about Mrs Pinnock,” he said. “It seems she may now be our key suspect.”
As they walked, he relayed the tale: Henderson’s trembling confession of bribery, and Mrs Pinnock’s hand in setting it in motion.
“You were right when you guessed that her father’s financial losses might have been linked to Sir Ambrose,” he concluded, his tone warm with admiration.
Flora felt a peculiar thrill, touched both by his open praise and by the fact that he had remembered something she had said in passing. No one, she thought, had ever cared to note her ideas before.
“And,” he continued, his voice sobering. “When I visited Mrs Fitzhenry, she confirmed my suspicions from reading over his ledgers—Sir Ambrose was stealing from your inheritance. According to her, you are not the first ward he has stolen from.”
“Good heavens. Is there anyone he didn’t swindle?” Flora stared up at him, aghast.
Her thoughts reeled—her own fortune, another girl’s, Mrs Pinnock’s father…how many others had Sir Ambrose stolen from?
They crested the brow of the hill and Flora saw the village laid out neatly below them—their walk would soon come to an end. She could not attend her first meeting of the Ladies’ Society on the arm of an unmarried man—Mrs Canards would surely expire from the scandal of it.
Though that might not be such a bad thing…
“What are our next steps?” she asked quickly, feeling guilty for thinking such a thing.
