“My word, that is a bit harsh is it not?” Greeves remarked, shaking his head in disapproval. “What kind of a person threatens a noble lady in such a fashion?”
“It is my hope to ascertain the answer to that very question. Please write the phrase,” Frederick gestured toward the paper.
Greeves did as asked and Frederick picked up the paper to compare it to the threatening notes. They did not match. He wrinkled the page and tossed it into the fireplace in frustration. “I would never threaten a lady, My Lord. Please, allow me to help you protect your dear mother. She was ever so kind in allowing me to come and work here. It is the least I can do to repay Her Grace.”
Frederick nodded his head. He might not care for the way he had looked at Josephine, but he could tell that the footman was genuine in his desire to offer assistance. “Everyone else here has been with us for a very long time and are trustworthy beyond question. The threat has to be from outside the estate. I want a guard stationed outside of my mother’s room at all times during her recovery. You can be the first to stand guard while the doctor tends her wounds.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Greeves bowed, then went to do as instructed.
Frederick spoke with each member of the household staff, then moved on to the estate’s tenants. No one had seen anything suspicious. When he had questioned Mr. Johnson about who had delivered the letters, he was surprised to discover that the butler did not know. He had found them just laying on a table in the entrance hall.
Going out to the stables, Frederick found Mr. Tatham training a foal to lead. He leaned against the side of a stall and watched quietly for a moment. The scene brought him back to his childhood. He had spent hours upon hours helping the stableman over the years. Whenever he needed advice, Mr. Tatham had always been there. He was in need of advice now.
“My Lord,” Mr. Tatham greeted. “How is Her Grace?”
“She will recover. It is the person behind the threats that concerns me now,” Frederick admitted, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His head ached from all of the interviews he had held since his arrival, and all on very little sleep.
“Did you catch the poachers at Pentford?”
“No, sadly I did not,” Frederick explained what had happened.
Mr. Tatham paused in his training to look at Frederick. “Were you harmed?”
“No, perturbed, but not harmed.”
“It sounds as though you made the right decision in bringing the soldier to aid you.”
“Yes, I was considering bringing him to Chescrown to assist in discovering who is threatening Mother. I cannot imagine anyone wishing to harm her.”
“Everyone, noble and peasant alike, have their secrets, My Lord. Have you asked your mother about it?”
“I have not had the opportunity. Father spoke with her.”
“My advice, Your Lordship, is to converse with her privately. Perhaps she will reveal something that might be of help to you that she would not otherwise be comfortable discussing in the presence of others.”
Frederick considered the stableman’s words. “I will go and speak with her now. The doctor will have completed his attentions.” The stableman nodded and went back to training the foal.
Frederick went to talk with his mother and found her resting alone. Mr. Greeves nodded in acknowledgement as Frederick passed him just outside the door. Frederick entered and closed the door behind him. “Mother,” he approached the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed as though she were sleeping deeply.
“Hmm,” she moaned in answer.
She has been sedated.He would not be able to get any answers until the medication had ceased its effects.
Frederick sat down at his mother’s writing desk in the corner and gazed out of the window. He pulled the notes out of his pocket and studied the scrawl. It was certainly masculine in nature with bold, sure strokes.
What could my mother have possibly done to warrant such a threat? I do not understand.
As he sat there, he noticed a loose board at the base of his mother’s desk. He leaned down to fix it, and the plank fell away in his hands. Kneeling down to see what could be done to reattach it, he found a small bundle of folded papers. Frederick pulled them out and placed them on the desk. He sat back down in the chair and unfolded the papers. The notes bore the same handwriting as the one his mother had received. A single word marred the paper’s clean surface, ‘Liar.’
Chapter 6
Frederick arose from the desk and left his mother’s bedchamber in search of Josephine. He found her in the kitchens attempting to wash the blood stains out of her apron. “I see you were able to remove the blood from the drawing room floor,” he noted, coming to stand beside her at the wash basin.
“Yes,” Josephine confirmed frowning. “Now the question is will I be able to remove it from my person.” She scrubbed the stain fiercely with a block of soap, her hands disappearing in the lather.
“Stop for a moment and come with me outside,” he requested, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. “It will not hurt it to soak in the water for a time, will it?”
“No, it might actually help,” Josephine shook her head as she released the apron and let it sink beneath the water’s surface. She dried her hands on a nearby scrap of cloth, then followed Frederick outside.
