“I saw Mrs. Jones lying nearly on her back, as Dr. Patterson described. Besides the blood from her head, blood had also seeped from her mouth. Her right arm was bent at an odd angle, but her left arm lay across her body, her hand open, palm down, and lay across her heart. Her fingers were where she’d typically pinned her cameo brooch. Her eyes were closed—which I surmised meant she’d had an opportunity to close her eyes after her fall, as it also looked like she had been able to move her left arm.”
“Why do you believe she had moved?” the coroner asked.
“I say that because there was white chalk visible on her sleeve.” Cecilia demonstrated on her own arm where the white chalk had shown on Mrs. Jones, and how the white chalk must have gotten on the sleeve when she first fell, then, when she’d picked her arm up, the white chalk had become visible on the top of her body.
“She’d lost the brooch in the meadow, most likely that same day,” she continued.
The coroner pounced. “How can you say that?”
“Because Miss Charlotte Aldrich found the brooch in the grass at the other side of the meadow from the escarpment. Lady Aldrich and I recognized the jewelry as belonging to Mrs. Jones.”
“Where is that brooch now?” asked the coroner. “We can ask Mr. Jones to verify the item.”
“It’s right here,” Cecilia said as she pulled it out of her reticule.
Mr. Jones could not help giving a little inarticulate cry at seeing it again. Cecilia handed it to him. Tears streamed down his face. “Yes, yes,” he choked out. “This is Miranda’s. For her, it represented our daughters, Faith and Hope, who left the village three years ago.”
“Mr. Davos, might I continue?” Cecilia asked after the room quieted.
He nodded. “Yes, proceed.”
“I did not see any evidence of a conveyance or horse in the area, nor signs of one, though I did look about. That could mean she walked up to the meadow; however, I don’t feel that likely. Vicar, could she have done that?”
“No, the arthritis in her knees meant she rode in her cart most everywhere. Or, she rode up to the meadow.”
The Earl of Mortlake raised his hand, and the coroner acknowledged him.
“The horse Mrs. Jones rides arrived last night at the Mortlake stables—still saddled. I gave her the horse last March.”
“You gave her the horse?”
“Yes, it was Lady Mortlake’s saddle horse that had become too old to be ridden in the fashion my wife prefers. I bought her a new mare before the holidays. Rather than having another horse to keep, I offered the mare to the Vicar and his wife.”
Cecilia raised her hand.
“My lady?” acknowledged the coroner.
“Were her painting supplies still on the horse?” she asked the earl.
The earl raised his chin as he nodded slightly at her question, his eyes thoughtful. “I couldn’t say to that, Lady Branstoke. Nothing was said of what was with the saddle. I should have to ask my grooms.”
She nodded, her lips compressing as she considered the implications of the presence, or absence, of painting supplies.
“Thank you, my lord,” said the coroner with a bow of his head.
Next, Lord Aldrich and Mr. Vernon were interviewed. They had nothing more to add to what Branstoke said. Cecilia’s thoughts wandered as they spoke, and she stared down at the still body of what once had been an active, smiling woman.
She had to have been with someone, Cecilia thought. Even if she simply fell backward, why wouldn’t whoever she was with go to get help? Had someone wanted her to die, whether they were the active agent of her death or not? She couldn’t imagine that poor woman lying there, helpless for so long, perhaps crying out for help, but left there to die.
When no more witnesses came forward, the coroner asked the jury for a conclusion. The jury went into another room in the basement for their discussion, but soon returned.
“Jury, you have heard the testimony from the witnesses. What is your conclusion?” the coroner asked. “Accidental death or death by person or persons unknown?”
The jurors agreed, manslaughter by person or persons unknown.
“Manslaughter?” queried the magistrate, obviously irate at their conclusion.
“Aye, sir. Two of us knows that cliff well. If it be in the condition described by Lord and Lady Branstoke, it likely crumbled underfoot, causing Mrs. Jones to fall backward. Howsomever, she knew that cliff. She would nary ’ave gone close to it if’n someone hadn’t cornered her or chased her there, and with her jewelry on the other side of the meadow, stands to reason she were not alone,” said Mr. Altman.
