Page 45 of The Case of the Curate

Fortunately, the stables seemed to be at some distance from the house, and being a gentleman, Christopher Carver kept to her deliberately slow pace. He was a well-built young man, and he would have had no difficulty capturing and subduing a young woman of Dinah’s size.

The thought made her skin prickle. Was she in the presence of a murderer? From everyone she knew of who might have had opportunity to commit the crime, Carver surely had the best motive.

There was no point in beating about the bush.

“Actually, to be candid, Mr. Carver, I do particularly wish to talk to you. I understand you are acquainted with one of the maids at Chadbon Court.”

He stared at her, his pleasant eyes hardening. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She held his gaze, aware that they could no longer be seen from the stables or, yet, from the house. “Surely you have heard that Dinah Fenn is dead?”

“Oh dear God.” He stopped in his tracks, grasping the nearest tree as though for support. His face had whitened so suddenly that he must have been dizzy.

“You didn’t know?” Either that, or he was an excellent actor.

“I heard some rumor I thought was nonsense… I hoped it was nonsense.” His eyes seemed to refocus on her. “What happened? Someone told my mother that a Chadbon maid had collapsed. One of the stable lads claims there was an inquest, but I don’t see how all this could have happened with so little fuss.”

“Oh, there was fuss, but no one wanted the details shouted. Least of all you, I imagine.”

“What details?” he demanded, although he looked very distant—was he devastated or busy calculating his position?

“That she was carrying your child when she died.”

His mouth fell open. His eyes closed and he pressed his forehead to the trunk of the tree. He seemed to be breathing in gasps.

“You didn’t know,” Kate said, even as she wondered if it were true, or if it was someone else’s knowing that upset him.

He shook his head and lifted his face from the tree to gaze at her. “Did it come out at the inquest?”

“No. The doctor saw no need to publicize her condition.”

Carver’s lips twisted. “At Chadbon’s request, no doubt. Can’t have a scandal in the great Chadbon household.”

“Or the Carver one, apparently. You do not deny the child was yours?”

“Dear God, no. Dinah was no slut. But Elizabeth must never know. It would devastate her.”

“Elizabeth is your betrothed? I imagine it upset Dinah a little too. What would you have done if you had known, Mr. Carver?”

“I would have helped… Though I don’t know how.” He tugged on his hair with one hand. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she knew you wouldn’t marry her.”

“I couldn’t,” he muttered. “I was promised to Elizabeth.”

“Then don’t you think you should have left Dinah alone?”

“Obviously,” he said. There seemed to be genuine grief in his face and voice. He cast his eyes upward, swallowing. “It wasn’t right. I know that. I always knew that. But I did love her, as she loved me.”

“Then you do not love your betrothed?”

Perhaps he really was in emotional pieces, for he didn’t seem to notice the intolerable intrusion of her question. “In a different way. I have known Elizabeth since childhood. Dinah was a whirlwind in my life… Had we been equals, or even something approaching equals, I would gladly have married her. But Elizabeth must never know that.”

“Because she is a jealous lady?” Suddenly there was another suspect. What if Elizabeth did know?

“Because she would be hurt.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “And because, frankly, we need her money.”

Poor Dinah. She had never stood a chance. And poor Elizabeth—it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to be married merely for wealth or birth, as Kate was well aware. Yet Carver claimed some fondness for his betrothed, just not the “whirlwind” of love he’d felt for Dinah.