"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Durant," the constable said, "but this concerns the matter of a Miss Mary Goodhouse."
She steeled herself and tried to remember to breathe. "Have they… have they found Mary then?"
"I'm afraid so, Miss. Unfortunately, late in the evening on the night before last, Miss Goodhouse was found floating in the Thames."
Lee swayed on her feet, suddenly light-headed. She clenched her teeth as a wave of nausea hit her. Caleb's big hand settled at her waist and she held on to his arm until the spots dancing before her eyes disappeared.
"Take a deep breath," he said softly. She took several, in fact, and the nausea began to recede. "Better?"
She nodded. "Yes… thank you." She tried to smile but her lips refused to curve and she had to force back tears. "It is just such a shock, is all. I had hoped… prayed that Mary had simply gone off with a friend, or perhaps was trying to reach Freddie Hully, the man she loved."
The constable turned the brim of his hat in his hand. "It appears that wasn't the case. I hate to be indelicate, Miss Durant, but the fact is a murder has been committed and we were hoping you might be able to shed some light on the crime."
Murder. The word swirled through her head with all of its horrible implications and the nausea returned. "I'll help in any way I can."
He cast a glance at Caleb, whose jaw looked hard, then started speaking again. "Her body appeared to have been in the water for some time, which leads us to believe she may have been killed the night she went missing."
Lee's fingers tightened around Caleb's arm. "You are… you are absolutely certain it was murder? It couldn't have been some sort of accident?"
"As I said, she was in the water for quite some time, but the marks on her throat were clear to see. We believe she was strangled, then thrown into the river in the hope she would simply disappear."
Lee trembled, but Caleb was there and his closeness became her anchor. "Dear God, poor Mary."
"Is there anyone you can think of, Miss Durant, who might have wished to do her harm?"
Lee shook her head. "No, I-I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt dear Mary."
Caleb turned her to face him. "You told me she had previously worked at Parklands. Did she have any sort of disagreement with anyone there? Another member of the staff, or perhaps even one of the guests?"
"No. Everyone liked Mary. The housekeeper came to me in her behalf when she found out Mary was with child." Lee glanced up, her stomach roiling again. "Oh, God, the babe." Tears came then, a sudden rush of them that clogged her throat and spilled onto her cheeks.
"That's enough for now," Caleb said to the constable, keeping her close at his side. "Once she's had time to think things over, perhaps she'll be able to come up with something that will be useful."
Like everyone else, the constable did as Caleb commanded.
"I shall speak to you again after your return to Parklands," said Constable Shaw. "Again, I am sorry for your loss."
She nodded, dashed the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her glove, and looked up at Caleb. "I can't go back to the carriage just yet." She gazed in that direction, saw the others laughing. "I can't simply forget poor Mary and pretend the death of a servant is unimportant." She looked up at him, hoping he would understand. "I can't be Vermillion—not today."
Caleb nodded. "I'll tell your aunt you are feeling unwell and need to return to the house. It isn't that far. There's a wagon parked behind the stalls—I can take you there myself. The Gold Cup won't be run until later in the day. I can be back here before it begins."
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "Thank you."
They spoke little as the wagon rumbled along the dirt road leading to the big Tudor mansion her aunt had rented. Lee tried not to think of Mary and the babe, but in the end, she couldn't help it.
"What could have happened?" she asked softly. "Why would she go off like that in the middle of the night? Why would she risk herself and her unborn child that way?"
On the wooden seat beside her, Caleb flicked the reins, setting the horse into a trot and jolting the wagon forward. "Whatever the reason, it must have been important."
"Yes…" Lee agreed. "Very important to Mary."
10
« ^ »
"Be at ease, Captain Tanner."
"Thank you, sir." Caleb relaxed a little, though his back remained straight, his feet braced slightly apart. Standing in front of the colonel's desk, he waited as Cox reviewed the latest report Caleb had sent him in regard to the death of the maid, Mary Goodhouse.
Cox set the letter aside. "Since your return from Newmarket, have you spoken to the girl, Vermillion, in this regard?"
"I've questioned her as much as I dared. She says Mary was well-liked and had no enemies she knew of She believes the boy, Freddie Hully, the father of Mary's unborn child, is no longer in England and that even if he were, he wasn't the sort to commit a violent crime."
Cox leaned back in his chair, silver hair freshly barbered and shining. "So tell me, Captain, what do you think happened to the girl?"
"I wish I knew. No one saw her leave that night and no one knows where she went. It could have been simple bad luck, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Walking up on a crime, perhaps, something like that."
"It could be, but you don't really think it was."
"No sir, I don't. There had to be a reason she left the house at that hour in the first place."
"So you believe there is a chance she was somehow involved in the spy ring working out of Parklands."
Caleb clasped his hands behind his back, trying to appear nonchalant. "So far we have yet to prove there is a spy ring working out of Parklands."
The colonel opened a file on top of his desk. "Actually, it would seem we have recently managed to do so." He lifted out a sheet of foolscap and handed the paper to Caleb. "Three days ago, a man was apprehended near Folkstone on the coast. The sheriff had heard rumors of smuggling in the area and he was on alert. When he took the suspect into custody, he found a satchel containing a number of letters. Those letters carried information about General Wellesley's troop movements in Spain."
A knot of tension coiled in Caleb's stomach. He finished scanning the page and handed it back to Cox, who returned it to the file.
"I don't believe it is necessary to discuss the methods we employed," Cox said. "It is enough to say the courier was convinced to divulge his sources. He said he knew only one thing—the documents he was transporting were originally picked up in a small village near Kensington on the outskirts of London. The name of the village was Parkwood."
Parkwood. The knot in Caleb's stomach went tighter. It was the tiny village closest to Parklands. Just a few shops, a market square, a church, and a tavern called the Red Boar Inn. Inwardly, he cursed. He had been hoping…
"We'll send a man to keep watch in the village," Cox said, "but trying to keep track of every servant and guest coming and going from the Durant house is a nearly impossible task."
Cox leaned back in his chair. "So what of the girl and her aunt? Are they behind this, do you think?"
Caleb straightened a little beneath the colonel's regard. "As much as it now appears that Parklands is somehow involved, I don't believe the younger Durant is the traitor we're looking for."
"Based on what, Captain Tanner? The time you've spent in the woman's bed?"
His mouth edged up. "Sorry, sir. So far I've failed my duties in that regard. I speak merely from observation, Colonel. And from instinct. It has served me well in the past."
"Based on your outstanding service record, I would have to agree. What about the aunt? Gabriella Durant has any number of connections with the French."
"Unfortunately, I've only been in her company a couple of times and we've yet to have any sort of conversation. She doesn't ride and rarely comes out to the stable. If I had access to the house, perhaps—"