Cilla examined a fingernail, picking at crimson paint. “A maid from the abbey told me she thought Amanda carried Theo’s baby. Not true, of course.”
Shocked, Laura stared at her. “Is she still in Nathaniel’s employ?”
“Mina left Wolfram about the same time as Mallory. I thought maybe she went with him. She was jealous of Amanda. Wanted Mallory for herself.”
“How can people be so vile?”
“They can and frequently are,” Cilla said, her eyesbleak.
Laura’s thoughts had been centered on Nathaniel and Amanda. Had venomous gossip been leveled at Cilla too? “Gossip is very often untrue. Vicious stories made up by people with too much time on their hands. Have you heard anything said about this in the village?”
“Not a word. The staff wouldn’t spread that lie. They are very loyal to Nathaniel. Some in the village suspect Nathaniel killed Amanda. And if a rumor spread that she was carrying Mallory’s baby, it would have given Nathaniel a good reason to have killed her, don’t you think?”
Laura stared at her, horrified. “You are sure that she and Mallory weren’t lovers?”
Cilla annoyed Laura by shrugging. “Who knows what people get up to? If Amanda had wanted him, she would have had him.”
Laura frowned. It was a harsh thing to say about a friend who could not defend herself. “That’s not very nice.”
“No. But realistic.” She put a hand on Laura’s arm. “Come, my dear. It’s all in the past. Most unfortunate to have that man back here again though, dredging up all the memories. But Nathaniel will likely banish him from Wolfram.”
“I would rejoice if he did. I disliked Mallory on sight.”
“Yes, I believe you would, Laura.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re more intelligent than Amanda.”
Do men prefer less complicated women? Perhaps her mother was right. Troubled, Laura left Cilla and walked across the park. Amanda might be gone, but she left a tide of misery and pain in her wake. She found the possibility that Amanda had carried Mallory’s child difficult to believe. More likely the spite of a disgruntled maid. Nathaniel must be aware of the gossip. Tears welled up, and she whisked them away. She wanted to fly to him and comfort him but feared he wouldn’t welcome it. Not when he’d made Amanda’s bedchamber a shrine he still visited and left flowers on her grave. For surely it must be him. Who else could it be?
The huge oaks threw deep violet shadows across the lawns. The trees were turning, and there was a new crispness to the air. Autumn was upon them. The season would be beautiful here.“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,”Laura quoted. The sickly poet, Keats, had a good reason to feel melancholic. But autumn always seemed a sad season to Laura too. She loved to be outdoors and disliked the end of bright summer days, the long, dreary nights of winterapproaching.
As she walked, a worry she’d dealt with during her sleepless nights gripped her with a new sense of urgency. What if she couldn’t give Nathaniel a son? They made love almost every night. Why wasn’t she with child? Her mother had said that was why Nathaniel had married her, and although Laura hadn’t wanted to believe it, it was true that he needed an heir. Could their marriage be happy if the years went by with no children to bring themcloser?
She drew in a sharp breath. She must see Aunt Dora. She was even prepared to believe the Tarot. If a reading gave her somehope.
Reaching the lane, a sense of purpose drove her to hurry. She would write immediately and try to persuade Dora to forgo her Londonsoiréesfor a visit to Cornwall. Even as Laura formed the words of her letter in her mind, she suffered another stab of guilt. She hadn’t yet invited hermother.
Chapter Eighteen
That evening, Nathaniel took his time over dinner and was rather pensive. It had grown late when they settled in thelibrary.
“What happened today?” She’d given up waiting for him toexplain.
“Hugh and I suspect Theo Mallory could be mixed up in this new smuggling ring, and we have little doubt he was involved in the last one.” He took a large swallow of brandy. “But he agreed to accompany us to the police station.”
Laura was surprised and pleased that he was so open with her. “Mallory is in jail?”
He scowled. “No proof. But he was eager to provide us with some names.” Nathaniel rolled his shoulders. “Every man should have the opportunity to defend himself, I suppose.”
Laura wondered if he was thinking he should be allowed thesame.
“Pitney believes Mallory is in it up to his neck, and I agree. But Mallory did give us the ringleader in London. He plans to get his back pay and disappear from Wolfram before word gets out. It appears that this smuggling net spreads far wider than we initially thought.”
“I’m surprised smuggling still goes on. I thought the government put a stop to it years ago.”
He shrugged. “It will always go on where there’s money to be made. It’s part of Cornwall’s deep-rooted history. The Cornish coast has been a favorite spot for contraband, and the locals supported the free traders. Some still do. A hundred years ago, the excise men were seen to be the villains. Contraband was blatantly moved around during daylight. Smugglers hid their French brandy in mineshafts and the caves around the coast. Their local knowledge helped to keep them one step ahead of the authorities.” He paused for another swallow, then put down the empty glass. “But when times are hard, folk will try to make money wherever they can. They even hid here in the abbey at one time.”
