“What if she didn’t pick them herself? What if someone gave them to her, letting her think they were the harmless fungi,” Bridget said.
“And who would have done that? Do you have reason to believe that one of those fine gentlemen Mr. Squires mentioned wanted her dead?”
“No.” Nate held up his hands. “I believe Miss De Lacey is merely expressing her concern because this is the second death at Villa De Lacey.”
“The second accidental death,” Magistrate Hunt said. “Both of which resulted from poor judgment and bad behavior. I do not doubt that this wayward housemaid of yours had no one but herself to blame for her death. You say she was behaving in a manner unbecoming to a servant of a respectable household and had received a warning along with the threat of dismissal. That does not bode well for her character. I hesitate to malign the characters of your reputable gentlemen guests by insinuating that they might have had something to do with the death of this servant.” Magistrate Hunt turned to give Bridget a stern look that seemed to say, “Do better next time, Miss De Lacey.”
Bridget hung her head, her chest flaming from the burn of the magistrate’s condemnation. Nate was right to discourage him from investigating this murder. Clearly, he thought Abigail deserved her fate just like Madam Bouffant. The investigation would fare better in her and Nate’s hands.
*
Nate was relievedonce the magistrate departed with Abigail’s body, but he knew it would be a long time before he could erase the disturbing image of the young housemaid floating in the water beneath the statue of Venus, whose flowing tresses, voluptuousphysique, and youthful glory were an ironic reminder of what the nubile Abigail had been like in life.
“What are we to do?” Bridget asked, settling Bijou on her lap once they were safely ensconced in the study. “How are we to break this news to the servants? And what about the guests? They are all sure to leave once they learn there has been yet another death on the grounds of Villa De Lacey.”
“We don’t tell them,” Nate said. “Not just yet anyway.”
“How is that going to work?”
“We’ll say that Abigail has left our service and returned home to Yorkshire for a family matter. Then, all we need to do is observe everyone’s reactions and behaviors. The guilty party is bound to reveal him or herself.” The very notion made Nate sick to his stomach. He hated having to spy on his friends, but what choice did he have? Abigail’s death was not an accident, despite what the magistrate had concluded.
“Can it be that simple?” Bridget stroked Bijou’s white fur as he snuggled into the crook of her arm.
“No,” Nate said, “but it will allow us to continue our sleuthing in secret—without anyone feeling threatened. One thing is clear to me though—whoever killed Madam Bouffant also killed Abigail, and I believe the same person tried to harm you. I don’t believe all three of you tripped. That’s too much of a coincidence. I think all of you were pushed from behind.”
“We were—at least I was. I’ve remembered something from that night—the presence of someone behind me.” She shivered. “I felt it when I saw Abigail in that fountain.”
Nate himself shuddered. He scared him to think how close Bridget had come to death.
“Perhaps whoever killed Abigail did so to keep her quiet,” Bridget said. “Maybe she saw or heard something that exposed Madam Bouffant’s killer.” Bridget bit her lower lip before she said, “It follows,then, that I must have seen or overheard something that propelled me to venture outside. Although, I can’t think what for.” She rubbed her temples. “I wish I could remember what happened that night.”
Nate turned and gazed out the window where Lake Windermere’s blue water sparkled on the horizon. He needed to tell Bridget what he’d witnessed between Dodsworth and Jefferson at the shorefront. But he was loath to think how she would react to his discussing such a delicate topic with her.
“What is it?” Bridget urged. “If I am to find out who attempted to kill me in my own home—your home—then I need to know everything, even if it involves your friends. I know how you wish to protect them.”
“It’s not that.” Nate pressed his fingertips together. “It’s rather a delicate subject.”
Bridget frowned and Nate saw her wince and then deflect the pain. “Don’t keep things from me because you think me too delicate. Nothing can shake me after everything I have suffered. My father’s death…the way he died…the way he was buried with a stake in his heart…nothing you tell me could shock or grieve me more. I am no longer the innocent young lady I was a few months ago.”
“Very well.” Nate inhaled, readying himself for the uncomfortable conversation, before relating everything he’d recently learned about Dodsworth and Jefferson.
Heat spread up Bridget’s neck and across her cheeks as he spoke, but every time he stopped, she instructed him to keep talking. “So, Dodsworth has agreed to marry Lydia Eamont to keep her quiet,” Bridget said when Nate finally finished speaking. “And you think Madam Bouffant and Abigail somehow discovered their secret, so he murdered them?”
“I don’t believe Dodsworth is capable of murder,” Nate said firmly. He’d known Dodsworth for years and in spite of his friend’s dire secret, in truth he couldn’t shake the notion that the man was asdecent as they come.
“Jefferson, then?” Bridget offered. “He knew Madam Bouffant had broken her neck before the doctor checked her. And it is he and Dodsworth who’ve been taking the fungi, correct?”
“Yes. In fact, it was Jefferson who first raised the idea of taking them. He found it in the ancient text and carried a sketch of the mushroom with him here. It’s possible that both Madam Bouffant and Abigail discovered Dodsworth and Jefferson’s affair and then tried to blackmail Dodsworth. He has a lot of money, so he is a good target for blackmailers. Furthermore, they were always at the lake and could easily have seen something they should not have. Dodsworth would have had no choice but to keep paying them for eternity. It would have been that, or pay with his life. And although I don’t believe Dodsworth is capable of murder, I don’t know Jefferson well enough to say that he isn’t.”
“Do you suppose I discovered Dodsworth and Jefferson’s secret the night of my accident?”
“It’s possible you overheard them talking in the library,” Nate said. “You lost your memory of that night after the fall, so that would explain why no one has tried to hurt you since.”
“But why would I have ventured through the thicket alone at night?” Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “You don’t think I hoped to catch them together, do you?” She shook her head. “No, I would never. Nor would I reveal such a secret to anyone. I wouldn’t want someone to hang for the crime of love. Never! Their secret would have—will always be—safe with me.”
“Well,youknow that, but Jefferson may not. But I agree, it doesn’t explain your presence in the thicket after dark.” Nate sighed. “The truth is it’s likely my fault you were out there. You may have heard something about the servants and their cavorting at the lake. I suspected that was happening, but I didn’t tell you because I wanted to be certain. And after you were hurt, I gave Abigail and Sarah a sternwarning about their behavior. But clearly, they didn’t heed it because now Abigail is dead.”
Suddenly, Adelia’s name rang throughout the villa, bouncing off the walls and floors, as Lady Eamont howled it repeatedly. Nate and Bridget looked at each other and jumped out of their seats. There couldn’t possibly be another dead body at Villa De Lacey, could there?
