Elinor laughed. “No, not at all. She has a one-person pony cart she drives, or sometimes she rides. But it is a peaceful place, and she has been terribly depressed since Georgia Inglewood died, you know.”
“No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen her since the night of your dinner party,” Cecilia said.
Elinor compressed her lips. “She took the young woman’s death personally.”
Cecilia looked at her inquiringly.
“Miss Inglewood was increasing,” Elinor said softly, as if they were in a crowd with others around to hear.
“Oh dear,” said Cecilia.
“Precisely. And she approached Mrs. Jones to help her get rid of the child.”
“Why would she come to the vicar’s wife, of all people?”
Elinor shrugged. “I have no idea, but she did, and Mrs. Jones said she couldn’t help her. She tried to counsel the girl to tell her young man the truth, but she got angry with Mrs. Jones and launched all manner of nastiness at her. I only know this because she was so loud I could not help hearing part of the conversation through the open vicarage window as my maid and I walked the lane to the drygoods store. After the girl was done spewing vitriol at Mrs. Jones, she ran off. I went to see Mrs. Jones. She had her face in her hands and was silently crying. She told me all that had happened, not only the bits I’d heard. I consoled her until the vicar came home, then she got up and practically threw herself at the poor man, knocking him back against the wall.”
“Gracious! And you saw this?”
“Yes, and you know our vicar is a slender fellow,” Elinor said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Surprising she didn’t knock him to the ground.”
“Indeed.”
“She didn’t mention any of this during the dinner party two nights ago, though we all were rather subdued, as we’d recently heard the news of Georgia’s passing. She was quite pleasant that night,” Cecilia observed.
“She may be a bit of a gossip; however, as a vicar’s wife, she understands what to gossip about and when to remain silent. She entreated me to silence over what I’d heard and learned, as I entreated my maid as well.”
Cecilia nodded. “When the girl died, it was given out as she died of something to do with her gut…something called aniliac passion. Do you believe that is the truth?”
Elinor shrugged. “I don’t know; however, I know Mrs. Jones feared the girl committed suicide, and if that were the verdict, she could not be buried in the family graveyard, or be prayed over.”
“As Squire Inglewood is now our local magistrate, do you suppose he paid off the coroner to espouse his explanation?”
“I don’t know, though what I do know is that Dr. Patterson was not allowed to see the body.”
“How strange.Elinor!Charlotte’s up!” Cecilia exclaimed, seeing Charlotte running across the other side of the meadow.
“Oh no! The escarpment is that way!” Elinor cried, running after her daughter.
Cecilia followed, veering slightly to the left in case the child did one of her lightning-fast swerves that way.
Luckily, Elinor caught her daughter before she reached the cliff. Charlotte thought it was great fun and giggled and squealed with delight at thecatch-megame.
Out of breath, Elinor sank to the ground, holding tightly to her happy child.
Cecilia let her breath expel. She smiled at her friend and her daughter. On the picnic blanket, Hugh was stirring. It wouldn’t be long before she, too, was as worried for her child as Elinor, she mused as she watched James pick up Hugh and walk toward her, no doubt to change his nappy.
He handed the fussy baby to her.
Suddenly, he stepped closer to the escarpment, then turned toward Cecilia. “Take Hugh back to the blanket,” he said, his tone low and urgent.
“What?” she asked, startled by her husband’s change in manner.
He did not answer her; instead, he turned toward the picnic area. “Simon! Simon,” he yelled.
Cecilia turned to look down the escarpment to see what had suddenly caught James’ attention. Gleaming white chalk bands showed through bits of grass and shrubs in a near-vertical descent to the shallow valley some sixty feet below. A dangerous place for anyone to get too near, as attested by the sad, crumpled body of Mrs. Jones lying on a ledge more than halfway down the cliff.
