“The letter?” the rector repeated.
“There was one in the man’s pocket.”
Mrs Hodge kept her expression neutral, the sort that would appease any jury. “Once I confirmed he was dead, I left the house and haven’t been back since.”
“And you’ve not seen the man before?” Gabriel’s tone held the subtle desperation of one seeking the truth.
Mrs Hodge faltered and glanced at Olivia before replying. “I can’t be sure. I may have seen him on the road.”
Gabriel stiffened beside her. No wonder. Mrs Hodge had looked at her like a woman who entertained secret visitors.
He spoke again. “And the man’s boots? You’re certain you saw them?”
Mrs Hodge blinked. “Yes. They were under the chair.”
“They were clean?”
“Yes.”
Olivia heard the edge of defensiveness in her tone. Perhaps it was shock. Or simply exhaustion. But something in Mrs Hodge’s manner set her on edge.
“If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch.” Gabriel thanked them before capturing her elbow, suddenly eager to leave. “One last thing. Someone has forced the mausoleum door. Do you happen to know if there’s a relative responsible for the plot?”
The rector seemed unconcerned. “Probably a vagrant. I can check the parish and sexton’s registers. If the family purchased the plot, it should be noted there. Though in truth, records are often hard to find once the grave is sealed.”
“Will the sexton not know?”
“Nesbit?” The rector spoke the name as if it were the bane of his existence. “He’s new, my lord, hired after his predecessor passed. I’m happy to question him when I find him. The man has a habit of wandering.”
Mrs Hodge stepped forward. “You’ve enough to attend to, sir. I can speak to Nesbit and check the burial book while I’m searching for the other relatives.” She gave a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Good, good,” the rector said. “Rest assured, we’ll have this place looking respectable in no time.”
They left them to their work, though Olivia felt Mrs Hodge’s gaze burn between her shoulder blades as they walked away.
A cold weight settled in her chest. Something had shifted. The air, the truth, perhaps even Gabriel’s faith in her.
She glanced at him, searching his face. “If you’re wondering. If you’re doubting. Gabriel, I’ve only seen Mr Lovelace when he visited our house, and when he attacked me in the graveyard. Whatever impression Mrs Hodge gave, you must know?—”
“That Mrs Hodge is a liar.” He placed a steady hand at her back. “And she knows a damn sight more than she dares admit.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wynbury Hall
Islington
“Do you know what ails Mrs Culpepper?” Olivia asked as they waited in the fusty hall of the old Elizabethan manor house. “None of the servants at Studland Park seem to know.”
Gabriel was almost grateful for the diversion. He hadn’t set foot in the house for ten years. Not since the day he pounded the door, demanding to know what had happened to Miss Bourne. The memory brought the sharp sting of bile to his throat. Some mistakes deserved to haunt him.
“Gentry spoke to her physician, who mentioned a heart complaint, offered no further explanation, and declined his offer of assistance.”
Olivia lifted her chin and sniffed the air. “They’re treating her with herbs and opiate tinctures. The scent cuts through the stale stench of neglect.” She studied him as if seeing the manbehind the mask. “But that’s not what’s troubling you. You’re thinking about the last time you were here.”
“Yes.” Shame pressed close, unwelcome yet all too familiar. It had been his greatest moment of weakness. “A clueless fool searching for answers.”
“You’re not a fool, Gabriel.” She stepped closer, her calm presence settling his pulse. “A fool would punish every woman for the sins of one. An intelligent man punishes himself. A wise one learns it’s all part of a greater design. Isn’t that why you find solace in graveyard poems?”
