It was the majordomo. “Lady Branstoke, your husband is here.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right up,” she said. She looked at the others in the room. “Do you know if we are supposed to put fresh bed linens on the bed?”
Julia and Mrs. Vance shook their heads.
“I’ll ask when I’m in the great hall,” she said, following the suspicious majordomo out of the room.
CHAPTER 21
JAMES MEETS THE LADIES
Cecilia saw her husband through the wrought iron gate separating the hallway and the great hall. She had to smile at her husband’s curiosity. This time, he was studying the architectural elements of the room.
She pulled the gate open and hurried toward him. “James!” she said happily.
He grabbed her hands and kissed the backs of both. He smiled down at her. “I think you are looking better. Are you resting?”
She laughed. “No, not as you would wish me to,” she admitted. “However, I am feeling better. I am recovering, I promise you.”
“And your cough?”
“Much reduced,” she promised him. “I believe I am too busy to cough and that is my secret for recovery.”
“Cecilia!” James fairly growled with consternation. “You were still supposed to take the opportunity for rest.”
She laughed again. “No lecturing, please,” she said as she tucked her arm in his. “Let’s go outside, take advantage of the rare, pleasant weather this afternoon and meander about while you tell me what has been going on beyond Camden House.”
“Mr. Ramsay and I visited Mr. Ratcliffe and the magistrate this morning. The magistrate realizes he was hasty to arrest Soothcoor, and there is reasonable doubt as to his guilt, but he won’t release him. Says he’s leaving it in the hands of the assize, which should be next week for this area.”
Cecilia compressed her lips as she nodded, a furrow between her brows.
“Our meeting with Mr. Ratcliffe was also enlightening. He’s an odd one. He collects statues of nude men and boys. Primarily Greek replicas and cupids. His wife told us that running his hand across the marble is soothing to him. We witnessed him caressing the arse of a bronze statue on his desk.”
Cecilia looked up at James. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. And when we left, he was taking delivery of a new cupid with the face, Mr. Ramsay assures me, of Malcolm Montgomery.”
Cecilia shuddered. “I don’t know how Malcolm Montgomery’s mother could countenance that. She is the woman married to Mr. Ratcliffe, correct?”
“Yes. Worse, we discovered Mr. Ratcliffe controls Camden House.”
Cecilia nodded. “I know.”
“You know that?”
“We deduced that,” she amended.
“We?” he queried.
“Lady Stackpoole, Mrs. Vance, and I, with confirmation from Mrs. Worcham. She is unhappy with the control Mr. Ratcliffe now has over her husband. And she does not like Mr. Turnbull-Minchin, the man Mr. Ratcliffe put in place as the superintendent. I will tell you; he is a caitiff. We heard him having relations in Mr. Montgomery’s old room and saw it was reported to Dr. Worcham. The doctor captured him and locked him in a treatment room. We thought that would be the last ofhim. This morning, we find him back at his old position as if nothing had occurred—except for the smirks he sends our way.”
James frowned. “He had better not lay a hand on you.”
She shook her head. “He won’t. It appears Mr. Montgomery was suspicious of him, too. He took a ledger from the estate room that appears to show he was billing families of patients for additional services on the side. Those amounts are not part of the sanatorium regular books and I’d wager go directly into his own pocket.”
“You think he is betraying the man who put him in that position to spy and manage things for him?”
“Yes.”
