“Do you think in time, perhaps, that there might be second thoughts? A reconciliation?”
Katherine shook her head vehemently. “Impossible!”
“Your uncle and I would be happy to intervene if—”
“No!” Katherine said with some force. “All friendship between us is at an end, and that is all there is to it.”
“Very well. I believe you will not need to see him a great deal, for he will not call here again or ride with you, and once people know of your… difference of opinion, no one will invite both of you to the same event. If he comes to church again… well, if he does, he will ignore you, I expect. Poor Katherine! And everything seemed to be in such a promising way. I thought for certain there would be a spring wedding. But there, one never can tell. I shall leave you to sleep for a while now, but Daisy will sit outside your door, so if there is anything you need, you have only to call. Drink your wine, my dear. You will feel better by and by.”
Katherine was quite certain she would never be better again.
***
InPickering,CaptainMichaelEdgerton was at his wit’s end. His investigation into the murder of the earl’s chaplain, Mr Nicholson, had run into the ground. For four months he and his team and followed up every possible lead, and a few that had even seemed to verge on the impossible, but they were no nearer to finding the solution to the case. Even when a man had confessed to the murder, it had turned out to be false, serving only to hinder them.
And now he had another problem, for one of his own investigators was missing. Miss Peach was a lady in her middle years, a former governess now retired and finding a new lease of life searching for murder clues. She had taken off on her own, insisting that it was the best way to uncover nuggets of information, but she had not been seen or heard from now in almost two months, and Michael was beginning to fear the worst. He had returned to Pickering in desperation, one final push to ensure that every possible clue had been thoroughly probed.
He kept returning to the last place she had been seen, the chandlery shop where she had lodgings. He had interviewed all the residents individually, so now he planned to gather them all together to go over every detail one last time.
“And if nothing new comes from this, then I am afraid we must abandon poor Peachy,” he said to his wife.
“Anyone but you would have abandoned her long since, Michael,” Luce said sadly. “It is so long now since anyone last saw her that we must accept, I fear, that she has met with an accident somewhere.”
There were five people gathered in the modestly proportioned parlour above the chandlery shop. The chandler’s wife, Mrs Stroud, presided over the teacups, while Mr Stroud himself handed round thick slabs of rich fruit cake. Mr Cartwright, a portly gentleman rather reticent about his profession, nursed a glass of sherry. The widowed Mrs Tasker sat primly upright, as far from Mr Cartwright as possible. The final lady was Mrs Clegg, whom Michael knew to be the former mistress of the present earl’s father.
He had brought Luce with him, and at first she led the conversation, since Miss Peach had been her governess when she was a girl. When Michael had brought Luce to Corland Castle at the start of the investigation, Miss Peach had come in the guise of Luce’s companion. Michael had hoped that Miss Peach would sit quietly with her needlework in a corner of the castle drawing room, listening in to all the gossip. Instead, she had gone off on her own to pursue her own enquiries.
The five went over everything that they could remember of Miss Peach, although there was nothing that Michael had not heard already.
“I must confess,” Mrs Clegg said, “I was somewhat concerned about the poor lady. It was hard to tell whether she genuinely knew something significant, or was simply muddled in her head.”
“She were very excitable,” Mrs Stroud said. “If you ask me, she just wanted to feel important. She’d had a dull time of it, by the sound of it… no offence, Mrs Edgerton, but being a governess ain’t much of a life, and then she lived with her sister in Harrogate.”
“Oh, I know,” Luce said easily. “She was so happy to feel that she was useful, and she was convinced that if she were on her own, she would become just another harmless elderly lady and could glean all manner of helpful information, but I am afraid she became rather carried away. After I left her here in Pickering, her letters became increasingly garbled.”
“What was the last letter she wrote to you?” Mrs Clegg said. “Perhaps it might jog our memories a little.”
“Of course.” Luce handed over the now rather bedraggled paper, and they passed it from hand to hand. Michael had pored over it so many times that he knew it off by heart.
‘My very dear Mrs Edgerton, So much new to tell you, but I cannot speak too openly, for fear of our communications being intercepted. I shall be brief, therefore. I have seen a Person of the Greatest Interest here, which has sent me in a new direction. I have been experimenting with a Substance of Interest, but with little success so far. I have received aid from an Unexpected Quarter, which will be of the greatest benefit. More details when I see you next. My regards to your charming husband, and all your friends. Yours most respectfully, Philomena Peach (Miss).’
Mrs Clegg laughed as she read. “Oh dear! It is not very informative, is it?”
“Does any of it suggest anything to you?” Michael said eagerly. “The person of interest, perhaps?”
Mrs Clegg shook her head. “She never mentioned a specific person to me. Mrs Stroud? You talked to her more than any of us.”
“No. It’s all nonsense, ain’t it? Poor lady, she hardly knew what she was doing, I’ll wager.”
“The substance… that might be laudanum,” Mrs Clegg said thoughtfully. “She told me she was having trouble sleeping, and wondered how much laudanum would help her obtain a full night’s sleep. Perhaps she was experimenting with that?”
“But why would she tell me of that?” Luce said. “It is hardly relevant to the investigation.”
“Perhaps she thought it was,” Michael said. “Mrs Stroud, Miss Peach talked to you of laudanum and mule droppings, did she not? Can you remember what was said? The exact words, if you can recall.”
“Ooh, it were a long time ago, Captain. Months, now. All I can remember is what I told Mrs Edgerton when she came here asking after Miss Peach. She mentioned laudanum and mule droppings together… something about laudanum being the key, and then… then… oh, I forget. She made the mule droppings sound like one of those puzzles… charades, maybe.”
“So she was puzzling over it?” Michael said.
