Hannah pressed her lips together and clasped trembling hands in her lap.
Mrs. Parrish smirked. “I noticed the solicitor did not like her at first. Was quite cold to her, in fact. But she soon had him eating out of her hand. Likely used the same wiles on both men.”
Lord Shirwell made a note in his book and then looked up, quill poised. “Did Sir John not deny the child was his?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord. Though my husband mentioned to me that Sir John said he saw no resemblance between himself and the boy.”
Dr. Parrish hung his head.
“Of course not,” Lord Shirwell replied. “Thank you, Mrs. Parrish.”
The magistrate stood and called for a short recess, then departed the room. The clerk rose to stretch his legs and quietly thanked Dr. Parrish for the safe delivery of a niece. Marianna complimented Mrs. Parrish on her testimony and the two women chatted as though at a cheerful charity tea, and not the worst day of Hannah’s life.
After a few more days of fruitless inquiry, James had landed upon an idea. Out of curiosity, he looked in the files to find Marianna’s address before her marriage—the former home of Mr. Sydney Spencer, her father, who had died a year or two before. The street wasn’t far, so James decided to walk there, though the day was grey and wet.
Reaching the place, he had to leap out of the way as a coach-and-four pulled into the curved drive. He watched as a footman scurried out with an umbrella, let down the step, and escorted a gentleman inside—the new owner of the place, James assumed. When the passenger had alighted, the coachman drove the horses around back toward the carriage house. It was probably futile, but James followed the coach. If society people were unwilling to speak against one of their own, perhaps a servant would have no such scruples.
James followed as far as the large double doors and from the threshold hailed the coachman as he hopped down from his bench. “Ho there! Nasty weather to be out driving in.”
The coachman eyed him warily. “I’m used to it.”
A groom and stable boy came and took charge of the horses.
James squinted through the drizzle at the dark manor. “Is this the old Spencer house?”
“Aye. Though it’s gone to a distant relation now. Kirby-Horner’s ’is name.”
“I see. Did you know Mr. Spencer?”
“That I did. I was his coachman for five years before hedied. Mr. Kirby-Horner was kind enough to keep me on.” The coachman walked around the vehicle, inspecting the body and wheels for any damage.
“And how was Mr. Spencer to work for?”
The man wrinkled up his face. “Don’t get me started. Ain’t polite to speak ill of the dead.”
“Very well. And did you know his daughter, Marianna?”
Again his face puckered. “Look, who’s askin’? What’s it to you?”
“My name is James Lowden. I am a solicitor.” He handed over his card.
The man glanced at the card but made no move to take it. “So?”
“I represent my client, Sir John Mayfield.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Sir John, is it? Well, why didn’t you say so? Sir John I know. I was groom to him years ago. It was him what got me this post here. Knew I wanted to be a coachman, but he already had a capable man, see? Right decent of him it was too. Though he was the better master ten times over, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.”
The coachman belatedly stuck out his hand. “Tim Banks.”
James shook the man’s hand and said, “Then perhaps, Mr. Banks, you might help Sir John by helping me. I am looking into a rather delicate matter related to Lady Mayfield.”
“What’s she gone and done now?”
James hesitated. “You know then, that Sir John married Marianna Spencer?”
“’Course I do. Dashed sorry I was to hear it too.”
“And why is that?”
