James chuckled. “Depending on the folklore surrounding the Duke of Cheney, that could be to your disadvantage as well as advantage.”
“With the passing of time, his exploits have acquired a romantic patina.”
“If you say so.” He shook his head. “However, highwayman-to-duke tales have more grit, danger, and criminal aspects than romantic tales.”
“To some, he was the Robin Hood of his time.”
“If one didn’t acknowledge that the poor he shared with was himself,” James returned drily.
“Not totally,” Cecilia argued with a smile.
James tossed off the rest of his drink. “You know his stories far better than I.”
“Yes, and bringing a bit of my grandfather’s stories into conversations might be good.”
“So long as he and the duchess never journey here to visit.”
“Nonsense. He’d only laugh at whatever tales got back to him, thinking it all a great hum.”
James laughed. “I’ll not argue with you any longer. So what have you learned today?”
“Most seem to believe Mrs. Jones gave Georgia a fatal dose of pennyroyal and then committed suicide out of remorse. I have detected a kind of comfort with that solution,” she said, her brows furrowing as she recalled the manners of those she talked with.
“I concur; some have even taken to approaching the vicar saying they know that is what happened but they won’t argue against her having a shriven burial. They have upset the vicar. As Mr. McCurdy is going to be doing repairs at the church, I have requested he intervene if others come to say these same words to the vicar.”
“So ridiculous when we know the jury found Mrs. Jones’s death not to be suicide.” Cecilia huffed.
“The sense is that the magistrate has painted himself into a corner with his insistence that Georgia died of natural causes, yet he believes Mrs. Jones culpable. He could be part of the rumors flying through the village.”
Cecilia’s brows rose. “Even when it makes him a liar.”
“Even so,” James said.
Cecilia nodded. She held out her small glass to James for a refill. He rose to grab the decanter from the sideboard and refilled their glasses. When he had seated himself again, she continued.
“Miss Inglewood was more egalitarian in her friendships than her family would have her be. She was close friends with Augusta Sandiford, the drygoods daughter, and Martha Broadbank. And she let Summer Rutledge trail along with them because she could use her to run errands for her. For somereason that I do not know yet, Mrs. Rutledge was particularly irate at discovering Summer was friends with Miss Inglewood. I was, for a time, quite fearful for Summer.”
“You think her mother might have beaten her?” James asked.
“Yes. I have a plan to ask Mrs. Rutledge for more of the baby biscuits for Hugh and some sweet rolls for us. It is my understanding that Summer does her deliveries, which is probably how she began to do errands for Miss Inglewood.”
“You intend to befriend the girl?”
“If I can. I also have Augusta Sandiford coming tomorrow to deliver fabric for new clothes for Hugh. I will use that opportunity to get to know her better as well. I think the young people in the village know more about Miss Inglewood than her parents or anyone else. I’m interested to learn if the smith’s boys dangled after Miss Inglewood as well. Being twins, there could have been a rivalry between them for Miss Inglewood’s affections.”
“I wonder if either of them might have been the father of her child.”
Cecilia shrugged. “It’s possible. I will know more after talking with Summer and Miss Broadbank.”
“Excuse me, Sir James, Lady Branstoke, dinner is served,” announced Coggins from the doorway.
“Thank you,” Sir James said. He rose to his feet and extended his hand toward his wife. “My dear, let’s put more conjecture on this mystery aside so we might enjoy a quiet dinner together.”
Cecilia smiled up at her husband as he drew her up and tucked her arm in his. “It will be my delight,” she said, with a wanton look in her eyes.
Sir James laughed.
The next morning,the youngest scullery maid crept into the morning room. “Pardon, milady, Cook sent me to tell you that Miss Rutledge is in the kitchen with the bakery items you requested,” the little maid said. She looked wide-eyed all around her as she spoke, so seldom did she leave the kitchen domain. “Cook said you wished to speak to her when she came today?”
