Page 57 of A Devilish Element
“Beg your pardon!” Eliza gasped, returning in a hurry from the window bay. She pressed a reassuring touch to Jane’s shoulders, and found her friend seated with a rigid spine.
Henrietta seemed to be enjoying the discomposure she’d prompted. She was fluffed up and literally bursting to get her words out. “It’s all quite frightful. Are you sure I can’t spare you the details? Perhaps we could talk of something else. I heard the groundsman talking to one of the maids earlier, about a gang of smugglers operating hereabouts.”
Smugglers! They were at least thirty miles from the sea.
“Henrietta, won’t you please tell us about London and whatever has transpired?” Eliza settled on the arm of Jane’s chair. She had not minded Henrietta much before this point, but her tolerance for the woman was rapidly decaying. She was the most intolerable tease, drawing this out, and making them work to hear whatever disturbing wisdom she had to depart for the sake of dramatics. It was surely for dramatics.
“Dear Jane,” Henrietta clasped both her hands tightly. “Let me put this to you in the most straightforward manner as possible. A woman died, and while Linfield cannot possibly be seen as culpable, it was his phaeton that struck her.”
It was clear from the anguish on Jane’s face that the words ‘culpable’ and ‘murder’ were still ringing in her ears exactly as Henrietta intended them to. “Perhaps you might start at the beginning of this tale rather than it’s centre.”
“Of course, Miss Wakefield. Jane, you may not be aware, but your husband is a sportsman with a passion for carriage racing.”
“Wait!” Eliza hopped onto her feet again. “I read about this in the newspaper. A woman ran into the path of the racing carriages and was struck. I believe she died at the scene.”
“Yes. Yes, exactly that,” Henrietta huffed, evidently put out to have the story stolen from her, but equally determined to steal it back. Eliza only too happily let her, choosing only to add helpful additions to better steer the narrative, and ensure Henrietta left nothing out.
“Oh, but this is frightful,” Jane said, tears brewing in her pretty eyes.
“Very.” Henrietta agreed, still clutching Jane’s hand. “George witnessed the whole thing, being part of the race. He managed to swerve to avoid her, but Linfield hadn’t the time. His horses ploughed straight into her, and the carriage did the rest of her work. Cut her down and broke her neck.” She made the sign of the cross. “God rest her soul. Doctor Bell attended to her, along with the other fellow, Whistler.”
Jem had witnessed this.
“It’s frightful. Truly frightful, but you mustn’t fret over it, Jane. It will all blow over soon enough, as these things inevitably do, and you can go back to London. There really isn’t any question of it being his fault.”
“His fault. Why would anyone even suggest it was his fault that a stranger ran out in front of him?”
“I’m sure I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“Then why would you say it?”
Henrietta threw up her hands. “I was simply repeating what others have said. I didn’t mean to suggest I thought him responsible. Though I do question the need for gentlemen to turn every blessed thing into a sporting event. All they care for are wagers and…” Her words petered out. “My apologies. We all have our little flash points, and gambling does tend to spur me into a froth. So wasteful, and entirely unnecessary.”
“Is that why you are vexed with George?”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Wakefield. Whatever are you implying?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I think I misheard what you were saying. Forgive me.” She gave the older woman a curtsy.
“Yes, well.”
“Linfield’s not in debt, is he?” Jane half rose from her seat in alarm. Eliza nudged her back down again, by thrusting a plate of cake at her. Her friend’s sweet tooth instantly won.
“Linfield? Heavens no,” Henrietta gave an awkward little chortle. “Of course not.” She stood. “Do you mind awfully if I go, Jane, dear? I fear I have a frightful headache coming on. I should probably seek out Doctor Bell and see if he can’t provide something.”
“Of course. Eliza, maybe you could—”
“I’ll see Doctor Bell at once.”
“Mrs Cluett,” Eliza called, bringing her exit to a momentary halt. “What was the name of the girl? I can’t seem to recall it.”
“The girl?” She blinked at Eliza as if she were a boggart straight off the moors. “I’m sure I don’t know. Fairfield, Furlough, Finlay, was it? It hasn’t stuck in my head. I don’t know why you imagine it would.”
“How awful to be cut down so cruelly and not to be remembered,” Jane remarked once Henrietta was gone. “Why do you think she did it? And why did you ask Henrietta her name?”
Eliza cast herself into the seat the older woman had vacated. It was lumpen and not terribly comfortable and had the sort of back that induced one to slouch. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know her reasoning.”
“Addled in the head, do you think?”
