“Would you say their intent is to keep the patients in, not keep others out?”
“Yes. Especially after the accident last year.”
“Accident?”
He nodded. “Tragic story. One of the young female patients,” his brow furrowed, “at least I believe she was a patient—in truth, I cannot say if she was or wasn’t—wandered out at night. She was found the next morning drowned in the canal in front of the manor. That is what made Dr. Worcham decide he needed a superintendent to take care of the facilities and to put policies in place to prevent anything like that from happening again. My mother told me the doctor was quite distraught over the young woman’s death.”
“Do you know the identity of the woman who drowned?”
“No, I’m sorry I don’t. I’m afraid I didn’t think to ask my mother her name. I do know she hadn’t been there long. Leastwise, that is what my mother told me at the time. I assume she was a patient, but now that I think about it, Mother didn’t say that directly, either. The woman’s death so upset her that she briefly thought of returning home! That is what we talked about the most, the possibility of her coming home again.”
“If I might, I’d like to return to your father. You said his disapproval of your fiancée increased when he learned Miss Montgomery’s father was in the sanatorium. Why?”
“He feared she could become unstable in the future.”
“Some inheritance from her father?”
“Exactly. I told him that was nonsense, but he was adamant. So adamant he did something I have not known him to do in all the years mother has resided at Camden House. He went up there to visit and to find out for himself about Aileen’s father.”
“When did he do this?”
“About the same time as Lord Soothcoor went up north to visit Mr. Montgomery—I can’t see Lord Soothcoor as killing Mr. Montgomery, no matter what others believe,” the young man said earnestly.
“Neither can we, which is why we are going up to the sanatorium to investigate.”
“Might I accompany you as my carriage is a loss? I am only an indifferent rider, so I don’t wish to ride there. Mayhap I can assist you!” he said earnestly.
“Maybe you can,” Cecilia said, cocking her head to the side as she considered him.
“Cecilia, I can see you are planning something,” her husband said.
“Perhaps. I need to think about it more before we discuss it.”
“But we will discuss it,” James said forcefully.
Her laughter brightened the room. “Of a certainty, my love.”
Mr. Stackpoole frowned as he looked from the husband to the wife.
James and Cecilia looked at each other and grinned.
A knock on the parlor door brought with it the fragrant smell of an enticing roast. By the appearance of the number of platters, the inn staff brought in a hearty dinner.
Cecilia clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! I vow I am famished.”
“Best you pile your plate high, Mr. Stackpoole,” warned James. “Lady Branstoke has a hearty appetite for all her small stature. You won’t get a chance for second helpings,” he warned.
Cecilia playfully glared at him.
An hour later, the maid came to the parlor to remove the remains—such as were left—of the hearty repast. She was followed by the innkeeper.
“Mrs. Drupple has most of yur clothes cleaned and dried now, Mr. Stackpoole. They be in yur room,” the innkeeper said as he glanced about the room.
“Thank you, Mr. Drupple.” Mr. Stackpoole turned to the Branstokes. “So, might I accompany you in the morning?” he asked, his expression open and earnest below the straggly waves of brown hair that lay over the edges of his glasses.
James nodded. “Yes. I hope to leave by eight.” He looked at the innkeeper. “Might we have breakfast before then?”
“Yes, sar. I’ll tell the missus to plan fer seven.”
