“Ah, Mr. Montgomery’s cousin. Mr. Ratcliffe, please calm yourself. Camden House does not allow wild emotional displays. Have you had some sugar this morning? Is that the cause of this emotion?” Cecilia asked.
Mrs. Vance raised a hand to her lips to cover a laugh.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” Mr. Ratcliffe demanded.
“This is Lady Branstoke,” Dr. Worcham said. “And she is correct. We do not allow emotional displays here. Please lower your voice, sir.”
“Branstoke! Now I understand,” sneered Mr. Ratcliffe. He turned to Dr. Worcham. “She and that husband of hers are just trying to find someone else to accuse of Malcolm’s death.”
“We are trying to discover the true order of events,” Cecilia said, “for whomever is the guilty party. Miss Lydia Wingate was with Mr. Montgomery when the curfew bell rang the night Mr. Montgomery died. That was well after the Earl of Soothcoor had left. And that is all we, or she, will say until the magistrate arrives. However, I will tell you, Mr. Ratcliffe, that far from beinga street brat, as you called her, if Liddy’s father had not died, he would have been the Duke of Ellinbourne. And no, before you even suggest it—for I see how your mind works—she was not born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
She sat back down and smiled reassuringly at Liddy. Then she looked up at Dr. Worcham. “With all the emotions flying around, might we not have some of Camden House’s wonderful tisane to settle us as we await the magistrate?”
“Yes, Lady Branstoke. I’ll send for it,” he said. “Mr. Ratclife, Mr. Turnbull-Minchin, please have a seat over here. I think this area by the windows would be best for Squire Eccleston’squestions for Miss Wingate.” Dr. Worcham looked a little less frazzled and more in control when he took the gentlemen to the other side of the room. Cecilia was glad to see that. She did wonder how long the magistrate would be. Mr. Ratcliffe was volatile, and she feared he would not tolerate waiting long.
Shortly after the tea was served, Mrs. Worcham came to the library door. “Squire Eccleston has arrived,” she said. She took a quick look about the room before she stepped back to allow the magistrate to enter. She followed him in.
“Emily, Lady Branstoke, Mr. Quetal, Mrs. Vance, we will be getting underway now. You may leave,” Dr. Worcham said.
“No, that we can’t,” said Lady Branstoke. “You are interrogating a child. That isn’t like interrogating an adult. She needs support. We have heard what she has to say, we are her support to ensure she isn’t pressured into saying something that is not true.”
“I have no objection to them staying so long as they remain quiet and we can get this over with as quickly as possible,” the magistrate said. “This whole affair has taken up too much of my time. We should have a coroner in our district to handle deaths. I will be putting it forth that the position be filled as soon as possible. It has been vacant too long,” he complained. He looked across the room at Liddy. “Child—what did you say her name was?” he asked Dr. Worcham.
“Miss Lydia Wingate,” Dr. Worcham supplied.
“Yes. Miss Wingate. Come here, please,” the magistrate ordered.
Cecilia stood up and came around the table to Liddy’s side. “Pass your book to Mrs. Vance and I’ll come with you,” she told her softly. She laid her arm over Liddy’s shoulder as she guided her to their make-shift examination area. Julia slipped into the room as they crossed the floor. Clouds moved across the sky outside, stealing the sunshine that had spilled throughthe windows, casting it in shadows. Cecilia hoped Dr. Worcham called for the gas lamps to be lit to ease the sudden gloom.
Liddy looked up fearfully at Cecilia when Dr. Worcham indicated the chair she should sit in.
“It’s okay,” Cecilia promised her. “I will not leave your side.”
“Thank you for escorting the child to me. You can return to your place,” the magistrate said dismissively.
“This is my place. I will remain here,” Cecilia said calmly.
“You are as contrary as your husband,” he complained.
“Thank you,” Cecilia said, acknowledging his words with a tip of her head. “Most of the time, I am worse.”
The magistrate scowled as he turned his attention to Liddy. “Miss Wingate, I received word last night that you were with Mr. Montgomery the night he died.”
“Yes,” she said.
“What were you doing?”
“Listening.”
“What were you listening to?”
Liddy spread her arms wide. “Everything!” she said. “All the birds and insects and animals that are out at night. You hear them if you be still. That’s what Mr. Montgomery said. And I did! Especially when there is a full moon, he said. We go inside,” she rocked one way, “they come out,” she rocked the other way.
The magistrate frowned. “So, you say you were outside to listen to nature?”
She nodded. “’Cause I did good on my maths that afternoon.”
The magistrate looked confused.
