“That will come to us, I’m sure, on the way back to Beaumont’s house,” said Byron. “Let us make haste, Miss Jane. I have brought you a horse.”
CHAPTER TEN
JENNIFER THE MAIDwas Mrs. Attleby. She was married to another servant in the Beaumont household, one of the senior grooms. Though the lady of the house, Mrs. Beaumont, was close enough to the maid to call her by her given name, it was proper for Jane to address her by her surname.
Mrs. Attleby was a stout woman in her late thirties, a bit round in the middle, her dark hair streaked with one line of gray. She had it pulled back in a tidy knot at the back of her head, and she surveyed the two of them with an undisguised air of disapproval, which made Jane feel uncomfortable.
“My mistress is quite needy at this time,” said Mrs. Attleby. “I am fetching the little one back and forth from the wet nurse several times a day, until Mrs. Beaumont is well enough to go and see him herself. I haven’t much time, I must tell you.”
Byron said nothing, looking to Jane.
She had, of course, had no ideas for what to say on the ride back to Mr. Beaumont’s house, and now found herself entirely tongue tied. She shifted on her feet. “We were sort of wondering if your mistress had ever mentioned Miss Anne Seward to you,” she came out with, and immediately realized it was the wrong thing to say, because if Mrs. Attleby had carried out the murder, she would lie about it.
At the least, though, they could take note of Mrs. Attleby’s reaction to the name.
“Well, no,” said Mrs. Attleby, “and I am not going to tell her about what befell that poor woman, not in my mistress’s current state! She does not need to hear about calamities and tragedies when she has just brought life into the world.” She eyed Lord Byron. “I do find it odd that you are part of this questioning, seeing as everyone knows that you were somehow connected to it all.”
“Everyone knows that, hmm?” said Byron.
“Oh, certainly,” said Mrs. Attleby. “You don’t suppose that you run out of town with every man coming after you without people hearing about it, do you?”
Byron cleared his throat. “No, I rather expected not, but it was only that Beaumont seemingly hadn’t heard of it—”
“The servants are all whispering about it, make no mistake of that,” said Mrs. Attleby. “Now, in this household, our housekeeper, Mrs. Dinsmore, she won’t stand for idle gossip, so you can be assured that we are keeping decorum under this roof. But I could not say the same for the other households in the surrounding area. And the comings and goings from the master’s chambers at all hours, my lord, you are brazen.”
Byron drew himself up. “You are quite free with your censure, Jennifer, are you not?”
“I shall thank you to address me as Mrs. Attleby,” said Mrs. Attleby.
“My apologies, madam,” said Byron, looking chagrined.
“Is there anything else?” said Mrs. Attleby.
“What exactly are people saying?” said Byron.
“Well, no one knows why you would be leaving the master’s chamber in the wee hours of the morning, most especially since both your valets had helped you both to bed at midnight and—”
“I mean,” Byron interrupted smoothly, “about Miss Seward and how I am connected to it all, seeing as she died of accidentally ingesting too much laudanum.”
Jane turned to look at Byron, startled. Coming out of Mr. Beaumont’s bedchamber in the early morning? Did that mean…?
“Is that the way of it?” said Mrs. Attleby in a tone that indicated she didn’t believe thatwashow Miss Seward had died. “For what I had heard was that the two of you had been going about and asking all manner of questions about her death, making veiled accusations of Mr. Hardy, as if that man would have harmed a hair on that poor woman’s head. Why, what is he to do with himself now? He built his entire life around Miss Seward. He was devoted to her.”
Jane had to admit that Mr. Hardy was now out of a job and likely a place to live. The tavern would pass on to Miss Seward’s cousin now.
Oh, she was very, very stupid, was she not? She let out a frustrated breath. To only think of this now? Why, it was all so very obvious.
Mrs. Attleby was still talking. “And seeing as you’re putting questions to me as well, I can only assume you still think she was murdered and you’re trying to find out who did it. Is that not why you are questioning me?”
“Well, yes,” said Byron. “But are people saying thatIdid it? That’s what I’m wondering. Because they did try to hang me.”
“It does seem that, if you had done it, you would like to blame it on someone else,” said Mrs. Attleby.
“Right,” muttered Byron, blowing out a huff of air. “That’s unfortunate. People are always whispering something or other about me, though, I find.”
“I would trust that the master has his wits about him and would not welcome a true fiend under our roof,” saidMrs. Attleby. “However, I worry that he is under your wicked influence.”
“Right,” muttered Byron again, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose you would think that.”
