“Not that I saw. I can’t be certain about what he took in before I got to the tavern. He were already in a bad state when we got there.”
Bridget worried her lower lip and then winced, feeling the tender spot she’d bitten earlier. “So, it seems as though he may have been drinking more than usual, which might indicate that something was upsetting him. Still, drunk or not, why should Mr. Groby say such a thing? Do you know if he quarreled with Mr. Otis?”
Thomas squinted reflectively before saying, “Mrs. Groby is a very beautiful woman. And there are many whisperings about her. Why she married a rough country butcher twice her age is a mystery to many. Some say her papa owed Groby money, an’ he gave him his daughter instead. Others say her papa were a cruel man, and Groby rescued her from him. I don’t know what the truth of the matter is,but I think some of the men are jealous of Groby, and they like to spread stories about him being a cuckold.”
“And did someone imply that he was a cuckold last night?”
“Aye. It were that young Rupert. He were intent on getting under Groby’s skin, saying things like, ‘If I had such a beautiful wife, I wouldn’t let her out of me sight, especially not with George Otis. He’s a real Don Juan.’ Then he hopped onto a table and started spouting some lines about a cuckold and his cheating wife. Had the entire place in stitches, he did.”
“Oh my!” Bridget said. “But why should Rupert say those things? It’s almost as if he wanted Mr. Groby to hurt George.”
“It certainly did seem that way, miss.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” Bridget frowned. The entire situation seemed very odd. It appeared Rupert wasn’t just an innocent bystander. He might have wanted harm to come to his friend. Or was it Groby he hated? If so, why?
Either way, more than ever, Bridget felt convinced that something was amiss and that Groby might be innocent. But mobs of people who’d been whipped into a frenzy didn’t have much patience, and spurred on by Rupert, they’d demand swift justice. She’d need to work fast and find something compelling enough to convince the magistrate that further investigation was warranted. She doubted Rupert’s little taunt would be enough to sway Magistrate Hunt. If anything, it would only work to convince him that Groby was guilty.
*
After leaving Thomas,Bridget went straight to the kitchen to collect Bijou. She knew that Nate, her aunt, and Jane would be anxiously awaiting her return, but all she wanted to do was sit quietly in the kitchen with her dog and drink a cup of tea. Yet upon entering, she was met with a blizzard of questions from the servants and franticbarking from Bijou. It seemed that everyone had congregated there, awaiting her return.
“I can hardly believe it. Mr. Groby of all people!” Cook said as Bridget picked up Bijou and sat down with him on her lap.
“Oh, so you know about Mr. Groby already,” Bridget said. “Mr. Squires has been down to talk to all of you, then?”
“No, he hasn’t, miss. Not since he came and told us that Mr. Otis were found dead in the daffodils. He’s been in with the guests since his return.”
“Who then?”
“It were Maria’s sister who told us the rest.”
“Maria’s sister?” Bridget turned to look at Villa De Lacey’s newest housekeeper. She was a spinster from Braithwaite who’d lived with her sister and brother-in-law until she’d been hired to work at Villa De Lacey.
“She saw him arrested.” Maria straightened her shoulders as if feeling quite important. “And she told us all about how Mr. Groby carved up poor Mr. Otis and fed him to his pigs.”
“That’s nothing but gossip,” Bridget said.
“But he has been arrested.” Cook placed a teacup in front of Bridget. “So, who are we to get our meat from now?”
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Bridget said. “There are other butchers in nearby villages, but I shouldn’t like to take business away from Mrs. Groby now. She’ll need the money. Perhaps she’ll hire someone to help her.”
“Well, I don’t want to be cooking her pigs, not if they’ve been feasting on a man’s body parts,” Cook said.
“I told you that’s only a rumor,” Bridget said.
“But it might be true, mightn’t it?” Cook said. “And that’s enough for me not to serve his swine.” The rest of the servants nodded and murmured in agreement.
Bridget sighed. “I realize this situation is disturbing, but please,let’s try to be kind. Think of Mrs. Groby and her children. I plan on going to see her again in a day or two. Perhaps you can bake some biscuits for her little ones. They need all the comfort and support they can get.”
“I will do so, Miss Bridget. But don’t you be bringing any of her pork home for me to cook. I won’t do it, I tell you. And if you or Mr. Squires try and make me, I’ll—”
“We won’t—I mean, I’m sure Mr. Squires will understand. We can adjust the menu accordingly.” She broke off a piece of her biscuit and gave it to Bijou, who gobbled it and then turned to look at her with pleading eyes that begged for more.
She gave him the remainder of her biscuit and smiled as he chewed it. But her shoulders felt heavy as the weight of the day’s events bore down on her.
*
Bridget needed timeto think and breathe before she went in search of Nate or faced her aunt’s and any of the guests’ questions. Her mind felt overloaded with information. Was Mrs. Groby the faithful, loving wife she professed to be? Who exactlywasMr. Collins and what was his relationship with Mrs. Groby? He’d arrived so swiftly, supposedly to render comfort, but why him of all people? And why had Rupert goaded Mr. Groby? Was it to taunt the butcher or to hurt George? Furthermore, why had Groby’s friends and neighbors turned against him so quickly?
