Just then, the housekeeper entered carrying a tea tray, and the conversation paused while she set down the tray and poured four cups of tea. Bridget added sugar and cream to both her cup and Aunt Marianne’s. Then she waited for everyone to take sips of tea before continuing. “The deceased’s name is Lady Matheson. Or shall I call her ‘Lady Patterson’?”
Mrs. Phillips almost dropped her teacup, splashing tea onto her black mourning dress. She fumbled as she put the cup down, spilling more tea into the saucer.
“I’m sorry,” Bridget said. “The news seems to have come as a shock. I take it you were close to the lady, then?”
“Not close,” the Reverend said curtly. “But we are, of course, sorry to hear of her untimely demise.”
“Can you tell me how you knew her? My understanding is that she had lived somewhat of a secluded life in Cornwell.”
“Her husband, Sir Roald, may he rest in peace, was a distant cousin of mine,” Reverend Phillips said.
“That’s good news,” Bridget said. “We are searching for her closest relatives to transport the body for burial. Can you help us with any information?”
“I am not aware of any living relatives on her part. My cousin is buried at his estate in Cornwall. Perhaps, the new baronet would care to bury the lady next to her husband.”
“It would take several weeks to transport the body to Cornwall, and that might not be practical in the springtime.”
“Of course.” Reverend Phillips glanced at his wife, who sat stiff as a board and said nothing.
“May I ask how she died?” Reverend Phillips said.
Bridget shifted in her seat. Should she reveal that Lady Matheson may have died by her own hand and deny her a proper burial? “We are uncertain. At the moment, it appears to be a combination of accidental laudanum and arsenic poisoning,” Bridget said hesitantly. “However, the magistrate has not ruled out foul play.”
Mrs. Phillips’s face paled.
“The doctor declined to perform an autopsy without the family’s permission,” Bridget continued.
“Tell him not to bother!” The reverend said. “She’s a sinner. Always has been. Bury her at a crossroads and drive a stake in her heart.”
The pain that shot through Bridget was like a poisoned arrow, spreading to every part of her body. She cleared her throat and worked hard to stay in control. “It was very likely an accidental overdose,” she said, suddenly feeling the need to defend Lady Matheson from the cruelty of a murderer’s burial. “Her maid, Louisa, said that she often took laudanum to help her sleep, and arsenic is used for many ailments, too. I am certain she did not…”
“Certain you say?” Mrs. Phillips shot out of her seat and gave Bridget a hard stare. “You know better than the reverend, then?”
“I-I-I…” Bridget stammered, so taken aback she did not know what to say.
Mrs. Phillips didn’t wait for her response. She stalked to the window, turning her back to them in a silent dismissal.
“I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave,” Reverend Phillips said, getting to his feet. “This is a difficult time for us, you understand.”
Bridget hesitated. She hadn’t yet accomplished all she needed, which was to find out why Lady Matheson had hidden her true relationship with George. Why had she not simply said that he was related to her? Why had she pretended to have only known him for a few weeks? Bridget eyed the sharp-faced reverend, who looked nothing like George. Then she thought about Lady Matheson’s lovefor George and how she’d lamented that he’d reminded her of her drowned child. Could it be that her son didn’t drown at all? But that he was taken from her—maybe by a cruel husband who saw her as unfit and imprisoned her in her own home?
“May we come back tomorrow?” Bridget stood, and Aunt Marianne followed suit. “We are staying at the Olde Jerusalem Inn, not far from here; I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”
“I don’t think so, Miss De Lacey. As I said, this is a difficult time for us.”
“It’s just that…” She fought with the desire to give in to their wishes and the need to know the truth. So many things depended on it, and this was her only chance to investigate. “Well, there’s a chance foul play may have been involved in Lady Matheson’s death, and I wondered if you knew of anyone who would want to harm her?”
“No,” the reverend said. “If you want to know the truth, my cousin’s wife was unwell and she should not have been out in the world on her own. I should have apprehended her when she came here to inform us of my cousin’s death, but sadly, I did not. Now it looks like she has committed the ultimate sin of taking her own life. There will be no hope for her soul now.”
“That seems rather harsh,” Bridget said as another painful arrow pierced her heart.
“Good day to you, Miss De Lacey, Mrs. Brixton,” Reverend Phillips said firmly and gave a slight bow.
Bridget and Aunt Marianne had no choice but to bid the reverend goodbye. Mrs. Phillips kept her rigid back to them and continued to stare out of the window as they exited the parlor alone and without any escort.
“Well, that was odd,” Bridget said to her aunt once they were safely ensconced in their carriage.
“Indeed,” Aunt Marianne agreed. “The entire situation is very strange.”
