But for now, Kate had no assistants to help her complete the shop. Lavender had her hands full with the gowns she was refurbishing for the dowagers. Since it was a mild day, Kate enlisted Odila, the young hatmaker, to help carry supplies. It was good to enjoy the spring air occasionally, and Odila chattered happily all the way down the drive.
Mid-morning, Kate left the hatmaker in charge of selecting hat ornaments to display and returned to the manor for more fabric. Thea Talbot, the manor's eccentric decorator, stopped her in the hall.
“There is a display case in the attic,” Miss Talbot told her. “It was most likely once in the library to protect valuable books or a butterfly collection or some such. The frame is damaged, but the glass is not. Might you use it?”
“Oh, I think so! I was wishing for a way to display pretty ornaments while protecting them from sticky fingers. Ask Lavender, but I'm sure she'll agree. Thank you!” Creating something out of nothing lifted Kate’s spirits. It was much more pleasant than fretting over the world’s ugliness.
At noon, after carrying newly-basted gowns up to the dowagers to try on, Kate ran downstairs hoping to grab some bread and cheese from the sideboard before returning to the shop. Walking up and down that hill all morning had left her hungry.
The empty clock sat where Fletch had left it, no longer ticking. She didn't miss the relentless bonging, but she rather missed seeing the surly major. Silly of her.
She passed Walker in the main corridor and remembered the question she meant to ask, even though she wasn’t clear yet on why it might matter. “Do you know if Ana Marie was hired before or after Miss Vivien?”
African in color, American by birth, Hunt’s steward was becoming very British in dress and mannerisms. He bowed politely, tucked a thumb in his waistcoat pocket, and gave her question due consideration. “Miss Lavender does the hiring for the sewing room, but I recall Miss Vivien arrived during a brief snowstorm in mid-February. She has a tendency to. . . make herself known. . . and refused to use the service entrance.”
Kate smiled wryly. The girl was a lot like Lavender in many ways, definitely not shy. Although Vivien wasn’t an earl’s granddaughter and didn’t have Lavender’s right to put on airs. “Dramatic, let us say.”
Walker nodded again. “Mrs. Marie was entirely different. She wrote in advance, inquiring about positions, particularly those in sewing. I gave the letter to Mrs. Upton, who wrote back that she must inquire with Lavender about seamstress positions but letting her know we always have openings for upper housemaids. I’m fairly certain Mrs. Upton put her on the books at the beginning of March, a few weeks after Miss Vivien.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Kate didn’t know how to explain. “It was just. . .” She gestured helplessly. “I can’t understand why Mrs. Marie didn’t apply to Lavender.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t involved in the hiring and really cannot say. Perhaps speak with Mrs. Upton?”
Kate had to let him go on his busy way, but when she noticed Dr. Walker and the librarian poring over large volumes in the library, she stopped with a different inquiry. “Do we know if anyone is holding a service for Mrs. Young?”
As the curate's wife, Minerva, the librarian, knew almost everything about the village, because she was insatiably curious and a good observer. “She has no family. Paul will say a few words over the grave. Perhaps Lavender will hold a brief prayer?”
Of a mixed Hindu-Jewish family, Dr. Walker seldom attended chapel and was more interested in her science. She pointed at the hand-illustrated volume open on the table, then to jars of pickled mushrooms lined in a row. “Can you tell one from another?”
Kate studied the lot. “Only in general. Morels are usually that wrinkly sort. That kind,” she pointed at a jar, “are orange or yellow and found on trees. Inkcaps look like they're wearing pointy nightcaps.” She pointed at another jar. “But my father taught us that the good ones can look dangerously similar to the bad ones. I am not a risk taker and leave the harvest to professionals.” She gave that a thought. “I think I will not even do that anymore.”
“Everyone knew Mrs. Young grew mushrooms and ate her harvest as well as sold it?” Minerva asked.
“And when she was cooking them,” Kate added. “She'd announce it to all and sundry, hoping folk would ask for recipes or get hungry for mushrooms and buy some for supper.”
“That doesn't narrow our suspect list,” Minerva said with a sigh of exasperation. “Cooking does not destroy the toxins?”
“In some, possibly, not all, from what I have read.” Dr. Walker flipped a page. “We need to find out how many others know mushrooms. If their uses are common knowledge, then that won't help either.”
Kate hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but she was the one who had grown up here. “All the woods have different mushrooms at different times of the year. We’ve suffered lean times for so long, that almost everyone has some knowledge.”
“Of course.” With a sigh, Dr. Walker set a jar on the open page. “I think this one is the most likely suspect. But it shouldn't be ready for harvest for another month, correct? I wonder if the toxicity is greater before it ripens?”
Kate leaned over to study the jar. “I do not like mushrooms and am no expert. Since I did not prepare the mushrooms we ate the other night, I cannot say if this poison one is similar to the edible. I'd have to ask Jacques' friend. Is this what is growing in Mrs. Young's yard?”
“Similar, I believe. These jars were in the attic, labeled with their scientific names and a warning that they’re toxic. The boys told us about them. One of the earl's scientific family most likely studied them.” Minerva glared at the jars. “I suppose I should find a display shelf so we can all learn.”
“And put poison out for anyone to steal?” Dr. Walker asked in horror. “I think not. I'll lock them with my chemicals in the cellar.”
“Are they poisonous even when they're pickled like that?” Kate asked.
“I don't know. I could run some tests.” Dr. Walker looked concerned. “You think people may store toxic mushrooms? For what reason, other than to kill? That would be a lot of planning.”
“Someone stored those,” Kate pointed out. “If you'll remember, the late Miss Edgerton dried and stored poisonous herbs and berries.”
“But she knew their medicinal purposes.” Dr. Walker studied the text books. “These don't mention any medical uses of mushrooms, just how they grow and look and which ones are dangerous.”
