SARAH KNEW SHE was wearing out her welcome at the Blackwell home, but until someone told her to stop visiting, she would certainly continue. Besides, this time she had a mission. She wanted to find out what had happened to the schoolmaster who’d been Letitia’s first lover. If he had, indeed, died mysteriously on the orders of Letitia’s father, as Malloy had suggested, Sarah would have a perfect suspect in the murder of Dr. Blackwell, too. Of course, proving Symington responsible for the schoolmaster’s death would avail nothing. Symington would hardly have committed the crime himself, and even if he had, and had killed Blackwell, too, he would most certainly use his money and power to avoid prosecution. But at least if they could implicate him, they would have solved the case and exonerated young Calvin Brown.
A maid answered the door at the Blackwell home. She was a young girl whom Sarah had seen only in passing.
“Mrs. Brandt, I didn’t expect you,” she said in surprise, looking distressed. Probably she was afraid she had forgotten her instructions.
“Nobody expected me,” Sarah reassured her. “I just stopped by to see how Mrs. Blackwell is doing.”
“Oh, right this way, then,” the girl said with relief, closing the front door behind her and leading her not up the stairs, as Sarah had expected, but down the hallway to the back parlor. This would be the room where the family would sit, as opposed to the front parlor, which would be reserved for guests. Probably Mrs. Blackwell was feeling well enough to get out of bed, although Sarah thought it was way too soon for that. The baby had been born less than a week ago, and Sarah encouraged her patients to stay in bed and avoid visitors for two weeks to recover. She’d have to caution the woman about exerting herself too soon, and especially about negotiating the stairs.
The maid didn’t knock, as she should have, but threw the doors open and said, “Mrs. Brandt is here to see you, ma’ am.”
Sarah didn’t know who was more startled, she or Mrs. Blackwell or the young man who had been sitting on the sofa with her. The two of them had been sitting very close, and if Sarah wasn’t mistaken, he had been holding her hand. Now he was on his feet, his face scarlet with embarrassment, and Mrs. Blackwell was looking at Sarah in alarm, the color high in her face as well.
For her part, Sarah could only gape. The young man was tall and gangly and very ordinary in appearance except for one startling feature. He had red hair.
9
“MRS. BRANDT,” MRS. BLACKWELL SAID WHEN SHE could find her tongue. “I… I… Peggy should have announced you.” Her tone was unmistakably angry, and her glare was directed at her servant.
The poor maid paled. “I’m that sorry, Mrs. Blackwell,” she said anxiously. “I didn’t know… I guess I forgot. I never was trained about answering the door, I wasn’st, and with Mr. Granger sick and all…”
“Hush, you stupid girl,” Mrs. Blackwell snapped. “Never mind about that now. You may go.”
The girl hastily withdrew and closed the doors behind her with an unseemly bang.
Mrs. Blackwell winced, then turned an obviously insincere smile on Sarah. “I didn’t know you were coming today, Mrs. Brandt.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” Sarah lied brazenly, somehow managing to tear her interested gaze from the young man. “I thought I’d stop in and check on you. You must be feeling very well, however. I was sure I’d cautioned you about getting up too soon, so I’m a little surprised to see you up and entertaining visitors.” She smiled expectantly at the young man, awaiting an introduction.
Had Mrs. Blackwell been more sophisticated, she would have known she could snub Sarah and send her on her way without that introduction. Sarah was, after all, just hired help and here without an invitation at that. But the young woman was either unfamiliar with the more subtle nuances of social etiquette, or she was simply too kind to snub someone who had been so helpful to her, no matter how annoying her presence might be at the moment.
Although she was plainly reluctant to do so, she said, “Mrs. Brandt, this is Mr. Dudley. He… he’s an old friend of mine… from home. Mrs. Brandt is my midwife,” she hastily added to Dudley.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Dudley,” Sarah said, giving him her best smile.
He didn’t return it. He was still too flustered. If Mrs. Blackwell was unsophisticated, he was artless. He managed only to bob his head in acknowledgment. His face was still extremely red. Even redder than his hair.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your reunion,” Sarah said. “You must have a lot to catch up on.” She should, of course, have offered to leave at this point, but instead, she sat down uninvited. Mrs. Blackwell apparently had no idea how to rid herself of an unwelcome guest, and Sarah was going to take shameless advantage of this to find out exactly who Mr. Dudley was and if he could possibly be responsible for the color of the Blackwell baby’s hair. “How long will you be in town, Mr. Dudley?” she asked innocently.
Dudley sat down beside Letitia again, but this time he left a respectable distance between them. “I… well, that is…” He gave Letitia a desperate glance.
“Mr. Dudley actually lives in the city now,” she replied for him, her voice brittle with strain. “We… that is, I… I mean…” This time she gave him a desperate glance.
“I saw the notice about Dr. Blackwell’s death,” he said too loudly, with the confidence of one who has, at just the right moment, invented the perfect excuse for something. “I thought it my duty to call on Letitia… uh, Mrs. Blackwell. To express my condolences, that is.”
“How very kind of you,” Sarah assured him, pretending to believe his every word. “I’m sure Mrs. Blackwell appreciates seeing a familiar face at this sad time.”
“I know I shouldn’t have gotten up,” Letitia said anxiously, “but I felt I had to receive Mr. Dudley.”
“Of course you did,” Sarah said obligingly. “I know you’ll be very careful not to exert yourself too much for at least another week.”
“Is Mrs. Blackwell’s health in danger?” Dudley asked with a worried frown. “Because you may be assured I would never do anything to harm her.”
“I’m certain of that,” Sarah said with false sincerity. “Mrs. Blackwell is the best judge of how well she feels, and I’m sure she will feel better for having seen you, since you were such close friends. Tell me, Mr. Dudley, what brought you to the city?”
“I… Well, I thought being here would be good for me,” he said uncertainly, glancing at Letitia once more, as if for guidance.
Plainly, there was more to the story.
“I suppose your family has a business here and wanted you to take your place in it,” she guessed, even though she’d already ascertained that he could not possibly be of the same social class as the Symingtons, unless he’d fallen on very hard times indeed. His clothes were cheap and ill-fitting, the crease in his pants betraying that they had been bought ready-made off a store shelf.
“Oh, no, I don’t…” He glanced at Letitia again.
She finally took up the challenge. “Mr. Dudley is a very educated man, but the only suitable position he could find was as a schoolmaster until he came to the city,” she explained, giving him a reassuring smile. “Here he has a chance to better himself that he never had in a small country town.”
“He certainly does,” Sarah agreed, managing not to react to the word “schoolmaster.” As she had suspected from the moment she saw him, Mr. Dudley was Letitia’s former lover, and he was very clearly still involved with her. Sarah couldn’t wait to inform Malloy that she’d already found the redheaded father of Letitia’s child. And, of course, an excellent suspect in Dr. Blackwell’s murder. On the other hand, Dudley’s reappearance pretty well proved Mr. Symington hadn’t had Letitia’s lover killed, thereby eliminating a good reason to consider Letitia’s father as a suspect. She had so wanted him to be the killer. “What kind of employment have you found here, Mr. Dudley?”