“You heard about our visitor?”April said, interested particularly in who told him.
He nodded.“Looked in on our patient and the maids told me who had changed the dressing.”
“Is he improved any?”Piers asked.
“I would say he’s no worse,” Fosterson said.“Though I don’t like that he still hasn’t wakened.I’m hoping it’s just his brain healing itself in sleep, but he could as easily just slip away.His pulse is not strong.”
“The accident theory is unlikely,” Piers said, meeting the doctor’s gaze.“How strong would a person have to be to have inflicted such an injury?Could a woman have done it?”
“I say, surely not!”the professor exclaimed.
Fosterson shrugged helplessly.“Human strength varies.So does the thickness of skulls, and though I’ve dealt with them before, I’m no expert in this kind of injury.Perhaps I should consult with this other physician—Dr.Forbes, is it?”
His willingness to consult was a good sign to April.“I told him you might wish to.He seemed happy enough to share knowledge with you.”
“What about the magistrate?”Dr.Hale said uneasily.“If the fellow was assaulted, are we not obliged to tell him?”
“I thought I might call on him after luncheon,” Piers said.
“Hurry back, then,” Hale said.“A vital game of pall-mall will be under way, and you, Withy, are required.”
Hubb hooted.“For the losing side!”
“You should know,” Piers retorted.
As the conversation descended into bantering insults, April felt her suspicions and her anxiety ease.These were good people, funny people, surely as worthy of Piers’s friendship as Haggs and Percy Austin, and Dr.Laine, and the others she already knew.The guilt of any of them would hurt Piers badly, but she began to think it less likely.If still possible.
***
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITHwas easy enough to find.April could hear the ringing beat of his hammer as they walked their horses up the main street, and they simply followed the noise.
The rest of the village appeared to be quiet.It was a Sunday after all, even if the blacksmith was working.A few curtains twitched as they passed, and a couple of women at the church gate turned to gawp.Piers raised his hat to them, which seemed to cause a flurry of confusion.
As they neared the blacksmith’s shop, April tried to banish her vision of that rhythmic hammer striking Edward’s head.And at first sight, the blacksmith certainly looked the brutish part.Although as large and muscular as his son Harold, his whole being was much more focused, his face serious, scowling with the effort of his work, while sweat ran down his face, and his wild hair swung with his every controlled action.
But he stopped hammering as soon as he saw them in the doorway and laid his work aside.
“Sir, ma’am.What can I do for you?”He wiped his hands on his apron, walking toward them, his expression civil, though far from ingratiating.
“We just wanted a quick word, if you don’t mind,” Piers said.
“You’ll be his lordship up at Temper House,” the blacksmith said.
“Petteril,” Piers admitted.“And Lady Petteril.Mr.Jenson, I believe.”
“My Harold is giving satisfaction, I hope?”There was a shade of anxiety in the blacksmith’s tone, a little fierce, a little resigned, a father who knew and worried about his son’s deficiencies, at least as seen by other people.
“He is of considerable help and always polite,” April said quickly.“One cannot ask for more.I daresay you know there seems to have been a misunderstanding over staffing between us and Lady Temperley.”
“I can’t help you there,” Jenson said flatly.“I won’t have my Anne at that house, and so I told Mrs.Riley.”
“Because of Edward the footman,” Piers said.It wasn’t really a question, and he gave the blacksmith no time to answer before he continued.“Actually, it’s about Edward I wished to speak to you, confidentially, of course.My understanding is that he once courted your daughter.”
“Courted!”Jenson spat the word derisively.“Led her on and promised marriage though he’s beneath her and got no means of keeping her.Never let on he wascourtingseveral others at the same time.Now who’s going to marry her?With no reputation and—” He broke off, pressing his lips together as though to keep the angry words inside him.
“A good man who loves her,” April said stoutly, and felt herself blushing as Jenson stared at her in surprise.“We understand your anger, of course,” she hurried on.“The thing is, someone has attacked Edward and injured him rather badly.He could die.”
“Good,” said the blacksmith.“Wish I’d done it myself.At least I’d have finished the job.”
