Nate placed themagnifying glass in his eye and peered at the blade. “Yes,” he said, “I see it. That lovely emerald green Angert uses in his paintings.” He lowered the knife and looked at Bridget. “I think you’re right. There’s a good chance that Lady Matheson used this knife toslash Angert’s paintings.”
“So it follows that Angert took his revenge by poisoning her.”
“It sounds plausible to me. I certainly think him capable of murder.”
Bridget sighed. “Now all we have to do is find a way to get inside his room and search for the portrait. If he has that in his possession, we’ll know for certain he is guilty.”
Just then, a knock sounded on the study door. “That’ll be Louisa.” Bridget rose and went to open the door. Louisa stood in the doorway with Harriet, who held a tea tray.
“Thank you, Harriet,” Bridget said, taking Louisa by the arm and leading her to one of the soft leather armchairs across from the desk. Harriet followed, carrying the tea tray, which she set down on the sturdy mahogany desk. Then she departed.
Bridget poured three cups of tea. “How do you prefer your tea, Louisa?” she asked kindly.
Louisa seemed taken aback. “I…”
“Cream and sugar?” Bridget suggested.
The maid nodded. Bridget added the cream and sugar and placed the cup in front of Louisa. Then she put a few biscuits onto a plate and set them down beside the cup. After pouring tea for herself and Nate, she settled in the chair next to Louisa and waited for the woman to take a few sips of tea before she asked her first question.
“As I’m sure you understand, Louisa, it’s important that we inform Lady Matheson’s family about her death. What can you tell us about her?”
“I was only with her six months…I don’t know much.”
“Well, tell us what you do know,” Bridget said kindly.
“Her husband, Sir Roald”—Louisa looked from Nate to Bridget—“died these three months past. They had no children.”
“Three months?” Bridget said. “But she couldn’t have been in mourning. She wasn’t in mourning when she came to the villa.And…well…then, there’s George.”
Bridget’s words echoed Nate’s thoughts. A lady in deep mourning, who’d recently lost her husband, did not behave the way Lady Matheson had behaved—stepping out late with another man and commissioning a miniature portrait of him to keep in his memory. She’d mourned Otis more than she’d mourned her husband, whom she’d barely mentioned. “Do you know why your lady chose not to wear mourning clothing until a few days ago? Three months is still a deep mourning period for a wife,” he said.
Louisa shrugged helplessly, and Nate got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.
“Was Sir Roald a knight or a baronet?” he asked.
“A baronet,” Louisa said.
“And where was his estate?”
“Cornwall—St. Agnus.”
Nate frowned. “That’s a long way from Westmorland. I fail to see why Lady Matheson would leave her home to travel to the other end of the country directly after her husband’s death. Unless—” He paused. “Was the estate entailed?”
Louisa looked blankly at Nate. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Was Lady Matheson perhaps forced out of her home by her husband’s heir?” Bridget said kindly.
Louisa’s face cleared, and she nodded. “She said we were to leave directly or the new baronet would have her locked away—” Louisa bit her lip, and Nate knew she’d revealed something she ought not to have.
He glanced at Bridget, whose creased forehead told him she’d also found the remark strange.
“Why would the new baronet have her locked away?” Nate asked.
“No. I don’t mean ‘locked away’. I meant…‘turned away’.” Louisa’s brown eyes widened.
“Turned away?” Nate felt his irritation rising. The maid waswithholding information, and he intended to find out why. “How is that different from leaving on her own accord? If anything, the new baronet would likely have given her more time to prepare—a few months, even. So, please tell us the truth. Why did she run? Is it because she did something to Sir Roald? Was she responsible for his death?”
“No!” Louisa squeaked. “I mean…I don’t know…oh, dear!” Her bottom lip trembled.
