The servant who met them at the door was a bit perturbed. No one had been expected, after all, and she didn’t know what it was they were doing there. But she showed them into the house, which was tidy and proper with tasteful decorations, and led them into a sitting room to wait for her mistress.
Cassandra and Jane sat on a couch together, looking all around at the decor in the sitting room—subdued, in grays and blues—and Byron sat down in a chair, clutching its arms.
“This is not at all what I expected,” said Cassandra.
“No,” said Jane. “This woman doesn’t seem to need to be employed as a midwife.”
“Well,” said Byron, “he did say she was sort of a midwife, I think, if I remember correctly.”
They were there on their own for some time, nearly twenty minutes, which they passed mostly in silence, because they were too nervous to strike up any kind of conversation.
Eventually, however, a woman came into the room. She was a serious sort of woman with dark hair pulled severely on top of her head. She carried herself with a certain sense of gravity. She stepped into the room and all of them got to their feet, silent, gazing at her.
“I am Mrs. Blethens,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors today. You’ll have to excuse the fact that I’m not prepared for such a thing. I would offer you refreshment otherwise.”
Everyone was quiet. Jane had her hands clasped behind her back and was looking down at her shoes, not at Mrs. Blethens. She cast a glance over at Cassandra, who was looking at the woman but not saying anything. Then she cast a glance at Byron who was shifting the weight on and off of his bad foot.
Oh, dear, it was going to fall to her to say something, wasn’t it?
Jane swallowed. “We’re terribly sorry to barge in on you like this, Mrs. Blethens. We only want to ask you a few questions. Hopefully, it will not take too much of your time.”
Mrs. Blethens fixed Jane with her stare and came further into the room. “Questions, you say. What sort of questions?”
“Well, just questions,” said Jane.
“We were told by a Mr. James Hardy that he was with you several nights ago,” spoke up Byron. “Has he visited you lately? We simply need to confirm that.”
“James Hardy?” said Mrs. Blethens. She moved with a purpose through the room and sat down in a chair next to Byron. “What is this all about?”
“Do you know who it is we speak of?” said Jane.
“I do,” said Mrs. Blethens. “Yes, I am quite well acquainted with James Hardy.”
“Have you heard anything recently about the tavern where he lives and works, or about his employer, Miss Seward?” said Jane.
“I heard,” said Mrs. Blethens, “that Miss Seward had died. Is that true?”
“It is,” said Jane.
Mrs. Blethens folded her hands into her lap, shaking her head. “That’s horrible. The rumors say it was murder, but they also say she simply drank too much laudanum. Which is it?”
“We’re trying to determine that, actually,” said Byron.
“Yes, and whoareyou?” said Mrs. Blethens. “Really, you shouldn’t just come marching up to my door without an introduction, but it’s all right, in the end, because no one would associate with me in good society, not anymore. I’m not what would be considered a respectable woman.”
“Oh,” said Jane quietly.
“Oh,” said Cassandra.
Mrs. Blethens laughed. “What was it that you thought of me when you came?”
“Mr. Hardy described you as a midwife,” said Byron.
Mrs. Blethens laughed. “Did he? How very odd.”
“You supplied wild carrot seed for Miss Seward?” said Jane.
Mrs. Blethens’s face registered a look of alarm. “Wild carrot seed for Miss Seward?” she said. “Certainly not.”
