Page 44 of The Case of the Curate

“I don’t believe he is such a naïve young man,” she said carefully. “And although it is bound to come out in the end, I have told no one that Dinah is dead. Instead, I have let it be understood that she suffered some kind of insult that caused the collapse they all heard about. Only the servants seem to know she is dead. For now. So my questions are both understandable and discreet.”

“I hope so, Kate, for all our sakes. No position within the party is unshakeable, you know. Not my husband’s and certainly not yours.”

Was that a threat? Lady Chadbon’s expression was concerned but not unkind. Though her eyes were oddly…implacable.

“I thought I would pursue other inquiries today, to do with the dagger that killed Dinah. I wanted to call on a couple of your neighbors who visited His Lordship before we all arrived.”

Lady Chadbon blanched. “What, and ask them if they stole his antique dagger and killed our maid with it?”

“Nothing so direct,” Kate said, smiling and crossing her fingers behind her back. “Perhaps you could give me directions to the squire’s house? I can make up an excuse to disturb them if I have to.”

“You would need to go in the carriage in this weather, and the lanes will be impossibly muddy.”

“I thought I might ride—gently, of course—if a mount could be spared?”

Chapter Nine

Thankfully, the squire lived on higher ground. Like Chadbon Court, his estate was well away from the flooding. Nevertheless, when Kate arrived at the stables, the grooms regarded her as though she were insane. Still, they had Lady Chadbon’s gentle mare saddled and ready for her excursion. They were also clearly relieved by her refusal to let one of them accompany her. Only the Ambrose coachman, emerging from the tack room with Jack Irwin, looked displeased. No doubt he would report the incident to Gilbert.

As she set off across the fields, following Lady Chadbon’s directions, it struck her for the first time that what she had always taken for Gilbert’s touching kindness—sending old retainers with her whenever they were apart, seeing that she traveled in the Ambrose coach rather than by hired chaise—was actually a form of spying. Then, shocked at her own ill nature, she banished the thought. She had chosen to help Gilbert, to be his partner in his political endeavors so that they covered twice as much ground and raised his level of importance in all the right circles. It was only natural that he should protect her. And as always, she would tell him everything that happened once they were both home.

Wouldn’t she?

He would have to know about the murder, but she doubted he would understand the amount of time she was spending on the matter. Would she not be better employed flattering Sir Colin Nye, soothing Otteridge, and making herself indispensable to the Chadbons, rather than acting against what His Lordship had clearly decided to do about the murder?

Would Gilbert understand her determination to prove it was not her old friend? She could certainly justify it by avoiding the storm that would blast everyone should the Marquis of Winster ever hear of Rupert’s arrest. What she couldn’t justify was failing to tell Chadbon at the outset that his expendable curate with the disreputable past and suspicious present was Winster’s son. Yet nothing else was possible for her, at least until she had tried to sort things out according to Rupert’s wishes.

The mare seemed to know where she was going, which was fortunate, for after all the rain, the tracks were not very clear. But the animal had obviously been exercised in this direction on numerous occasions, for she chose her own path while keeping to the right general direction as described by Lady Chadbon.

The journey took more than an hour, because of the state of the ground, and much of it was uphill, but she duly came in sight of a pleasant manor house, built on a smaller scale than either the Chadbon or Remington mansions. She suspected it too had been in the same family for centuries. Dwarfed by wealthier and more aristocratic neighbors, the gentry clung on to their pride. Marrying a maidservant would not have been easy for this squire’s son, whether he’d wanted to or not.

No one appeared to consider the difficulties Dinah would have faced had she lived.

The mare had brought her to the manor house via the stables, for which Kate gave the horse an extra pat. She had decided to pretend that the mare seemed lame and ask the squire’s stable staff to look at her—while Kate called at the house to explain her intrusion to the squire’s lady. Accordingly, she dismounted and led the mare the last few yards.

A group of men gathered in the stable yard turned to stare at her in clear surprise as she approached. The young man in his shirt sleeves, who had been gesticulating toward the stable buildings, stopped talking and picked his coat off a post. He shrugged himself into the garment as he strode toward her.

“Good day, ma’am,” he said in the accent of a gentleman. “Might I be of assistance? Are you lost?”

That had been her alternative excuse, which she had discarded because she hated playing the stupid female. So she smiled brilliantly upon the young man.

“Oh, good day to you, sir. Please do forgive my impertinence, but I thought the mare was limping and I really don’t want to take her back to Lady Chadbon lame! Especially not when I was advised against riding out with the ground so wet. I was so relieved to see your house through the trees!” She held out her hand. “I’m Lady Ambrose, by the way. Am I addressing the squire?”

The young man, who had a pleasant face, smiled back, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Oh, no, my father is still very much the squire! I’m Christopher Carver, at your service.”

He bowed over her hand with quiet courtesy. Quite the gentleman. He even petted the mare with familiarity before calling over to a slight, older man. “Here, Graham, take a look at Her Ladyship’s mare, would you? Which leg seemed to be the problem, ma’am?”

“The right foreleg, I thought, but maybe your man could look over them all? I rather wish I had listened and not begun this expedition, but you know how it is when one feels cooped up—nothing will do but getting outdoors.”

The humorous smile dawned again. It was really quite engaging. Poor Dinah.

“Well, I’m not surprised. The visitors at Chadbon Court tend to be old and serious!”

Kate smiled back. “They are quite delightful people, of course—as are the Chadbons, as you must know—but yes, I confess seriousness has its limits for a frivolous person like myself!”

“Do come and meet my mother and have some refreshment while Graham looks over your horse.”

“How very kind of you…”