Lord Shirwell grimly shook his head, not taking his eyes from Marianna.
She continued, “I understand that initially Dr. Parrish simply assumed Hannah was Lady Mayfield, when he discovered her and Sir John alone in the ruined carriage. How could he have known I had been the one to drift out to sea? A natural mistake. But later,when Hannah regained her senses, did she correct him? Admit she was only poor Miss Rogers, lady’s companion? No. Instead she allowed them to go on believing her to be Sir John’s wife.”
Again, she dabbed dry eyes. “Poor Sir John was still insensible and unable to correct their misapprehension. I don’t know how she planned to get away with it. Perhaps she thought if Sir John died and I was dead as assumed, then she might inherit a great deal of money, or at least my widow’s jointure. Not only did she allow the staff and good-hearted, trusting neighbors to believe she was me, but to compound her fraud, she returned to Bath, collected her illegitimate son, and brought him back with her, along with his nurse. She allowed everyone to believe he was Sir John and Lady Mayfield’s son—and heir, mind you. What audacity. What cunning. I don’t know why Sir John did not call her out when he awoke. I can only surmise that his head injury had rendered his memory or mental capacities impaired. She must have preyed on his weak mind.”
Hannah, remembering the magistrate’s warning, barely held her tongue.
Marianna continued, “When I confronted Miss Rogers, she said she would simply leave. Hoping to avoid charges, no doubt, and who knew how much of my husband’s money or possessions she planned to take with her? Again, this is why I felt it my duty to pursue this matter immediately, even in my husband’s absence.”
“Very understandable, my lady. Very wise,” Lord Shirwell said. “Now, if you have said all you like, I would like to hear from Dr. Parrish.”
She smiled coyly. “Thank you, your worship. I have.” She made to rise, but the magistrate gestured for her to remain where she was. “No need. Dr. Parrish can answer from where he sits.”
He turned to the physician. “Please tell us how you came to meet this woman.” He lifted a lazy hand toward Hannah.
“Yes, my lor—your worship.” In halting fashion, quite unlike his usual loquacious style, Dr. Parrish told of the leasing of Clifton House, which his son managed. He then went on to describe the runaway horses, which led him and Edgar to search for a stranded coach. He described the tracks in the mud, looking over the cliff at the horrid sight of a carriage broken wide like a raw egg on the rocks, and the tangle of bodies within. His amazement at finding the two occupants alive, though Sir John but barely. He never gave a second thought that the woman must be Lady Mayfield, cradling Sir John’s head in her lap. She certainly looked and dressed as a lady, although injured and insensible.
At this point Mrs. Parrish snorted loudly enough for all to hear. “I told you she was no lady.”
Lord Shirwell ignored this aside, while Dr. Parrish colored and continued as though he had not heard his vulgar spouse.
“My son Edgar spotted a figure floating out to sea. At least what he said looked like a person wearing red. I own my long-distance vision isn’t what it should be. We asked Lady—that is, Miss Rogers—if she had brought a servant with her. She could not speak, but laid a hand on her heart and nodded. I thought she meant the servant was her own personal maid, or dear to her heart, something like that. Not that she herself was the servant, or companion, herself.
“After we managed to remove them to the house, she was insensible for some time. And she remained quite muddled even after she awoke, muttering and fretting about someone named Danny, who I learned later was her child. I, of course, addressed her as ‘my lady,’ as did Mrs. Turrill, the housekeeper we’d engaged on the Mayfields’ behalf. Looking back, I recall how this distressed her, how she knit her brow and seemed confused by it. I assumed it was the shock of the accident and her injuries. You see how determined I was to view her as the woman I presumed her to be. In all honesty, my lord, I blame myself forthe misunderstanding. For she never tried to convince me she was Lady Mayfield. I did that all by myself.”
Lord Shirwell pursed his lips. “Come, Doctor. Even if she was confused for a few days, surely she could have corrected the ‘misunderstanding,’ as you call it, as soon as she came to her senses. Did she?”
He reddened again. “No, my lord. Um ... your worship. Not directly. Though she did try more than once to tell me. I see that now.”
“What a memory you have, Dr. Parrish.” Marianna smiled at the man. “It speaks so highly of your character that you assume the best of everyone.”
“It is one thing for her to allow the misapprehension to go on briefly while she got her bearings,” Lord Shirwell said. “But to press you into aiding her cause—to return to Bath for her child? Surely you don’t excuse that as well? Did she not ask you to hire a carriage for her, and even steal money from Sir John’s purse to pay for the trip?”
Heaven help me, Hannah thought. Who told him that, in those terms? She would hang for sure. Or at least be sent to prison. What would become of Danny then?
Dr. Parrish shot a glare at his wife, then continued, “No, my lord. I offered to hire the carriage. She never asked for it. She intended to go on her own, by stage. But I insisted. I knew—or thought—Sir John would want it that way.”
“Surely Sir John did notofferMiss Rogers his money, considering he was insensible?”
“No, your worship. Again, that was my idea. I knew she would need money for the inns and tolls, and when I asked her if she had enough, she said she hadn’t. I had removed Sir John’s purse from his pocket myself and knew right where it was, and that it was heavy indeed. I took from it the amount I thought she would need and gave it to her. She has never askedfor more, nor was a farthing more missing from Sir John’s purse when he came to at last and had opportunity to look within.”
“How you defend her, Dr. Parrish,” Marianna said sweetly. “It seems you have grown quite fond of her.”
The physician blushed furiously, but whether from embarrassment or anger or both, Hannah wasn’t sure. He had never treated her with anything but the most proper consideration. Marianna had clearly recognized the strain between the good doctor and his cantankerous wife and decided to use it to her advantage. How brazen she was to interrupt the proceedings as though it were a conversation in her own drawing room. Yet the magistrate did not object. Instead, he gazed at her benignly.
“My ... your ladyship,” Dr. Parrish faltered. “You misunderstand me. But I do believe Miss Rogers is a good woman who acted out of concern for her child’s well-being. I cannot stand by and see her so maligned.”
Lord Shirwell straightened. “Did she or did she not impersonate Lady Mayfield?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Did she or did she not pass off her son as Master Mayfield?”
“I suppose so, although—”
“Did she or did she not take advantage of the situation to help herself to Sir John’s money, his house, his food, his wife’s very clothing?” Lord Shirwell’s eyes blazed.
Dr. Parrish ducked his head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes, my lord.”
