“Yes. And Baron Stackpoole forbids the marriage because of Mr. Montgomery’s illness. He says they can’t know that Aileen hasn’t inherited the same mental health condition.”
Julia snorted quite inelegantly. “Excuse my vulgarity, that sounds like something my husband would try to do. He would be against her just because she is Scottish with the added mental health issues, he would be beside himself.” She suddenly laughed. “I can almost visualize him quivering with anger. He has no control over Benjamin—certainly no financial control. My Benjamin is his own man. He needs nothing from his father.”
“Did you know Baron Stackpoole came up here when it was first discovered Mr. Montgomery was alive?”
“No! He certainly didn’t come to see me. What did he want? What did he do?”
“I don’t know,” Cecilia admitted. “Perhaps to ask Dr. Worcham about Mr. Montgomery’s health? Truthfully, I don’tknow if he actually came to Camden House and visited with Mr. Montgomery or Dr. Worcham. Is there a guest registry?”
“Yes, there is, but it would be difficult for us to see it…I can casually ask some of the staff that I am friendly with—though Mr. Turnbull-Minchin now frowns on usfraternizing, as he calls it.” She fingered the petal of a flower that had managed to bloom under the protected branches of the trees. “What about the man that killed Malcolm? Do we know why he did it?”
Cecilia looked at Julia seriously. “The magistrate arrested the wrong man.”
She dropped the flower and looked at Cecilia. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Cecilia took a big breath then let it out slowly as she looked across the canal. She looked back at Julia. “I am not typically a gambling woman; however, I will take a gamble with you.”
“What do you mean.”
“I will tell you what I know but you cannot share it with others.”
Julia’s features pulled together in a deep frown. She cocked her head to the side as she considered Cecilia. “All right,” she said slowly.
“Come, let’s turn around and begin our walk back. I find I am tiring and will need to lay down for a while.—The Earl of Soothcoor, the man arrested, was Mr. Montgomery’s childhood friend.”
“The Earl of Soothcoor? That’s who was arrested?” Julia exclaimed.
“Yes.”
“They never told us, just that the murderer had been apprehended. I’ve heard of him. My Benjamin has spoken of him. They call him ‘The Dour Earl’.”
Cecilia laughed. “Yes, they do.”
“He was the visitor who came to see Mr. Montgomery that day?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To find out why he’d pretended to be dead to his wife and children and, more importantly, if he would petition for a divorce.”
“This is so confusing. Did Dr. Worcham know he was married?”
“I don’t know. I wonder about that. Would the doctor have allowed him to fake his death if he knew he had a wife and child?” Cecilia asked, her voice growing hoarse and tight as a cough threatened.
“I can’t see Dr. Worcham allowing him to fake his death at all, no matter the circumstance! That is worrisome.”
A sudden coughing fit overwhelmed Cecilia. “Oh bother, the dratted cough has been so good this morning not to plague me,” she said as she held a handkerchief to her mouth. “There is a bench over there,” she said, pointing to an ornate filigree metal bench underneath another tree, away from the popular walkway. “Let’s sit down there for a moment before we return to the house.”
Julia nodded and the women crossed to the out-of-the-way bench. Cecilia clasped her gloved hands together when she sat down. She looked at Julia sitting beside her. “I’m going to trust you,” she squeaked out before she laughed again.
“I beg your pardon?”
She cleared her throat. “I came to Camden House for two reasons. The first is to investigate the death of a dead man.”
“You came here to investigate Mr. Montgomery’s death? You are not ill?”
She shook her head. “I am ill, or rather, I am recovering from a prolonged bout with influenza. It zapped my strength,especially the coughing. I am also with child and my husband—and me to some extent—fear for any lingering effects my illness might have had on my unborn child,” she said as she unconsciously rested her hands on her rounding belly. “I do need rest, and as I said, I will lie down when we go inside. I do need, just like Dr. Worcham is prescribing, sunshine and short walks outside—though there is not much sun,” she said ruefully. “My cough persists, as you’ve heard, and my energy flags much too easily. I do not like that. I enjoy being an active woman and it tries my soul that I can’t be that woman right now.” She cleared her throat again.
