He peered through the un-shuttered window to see the couple in a passionate embrace before the fire, where a big, black pot boiled. Smiling, he turned and made his way back to the house. The gamekeeper was in love, and that could mean trouble if the girl fell pregnant. Brendan supposed he should offer advice to the young man, who was not yet twenty-five.
If only life were as simple for him and Laura.
Chapter Seventeen
Mid-morning, Laura wentdownstairs to the kitchen to have a cup of tea with Mrs. Amery, who was always good for a chat, even when up to her elbows in flour.
Laura hoped to hear what had occurred among the staff in her absence, and their cook was the one to ask. Laura poured her tea from the brown kitchen pot while Cook deftly made scones.
“A light touch is the secret to a good scone.” Cook’s skillful hands shaped each one before placing them onto the greased tray.
“How fortunate Wagstaff is now our butler.” Laura put down her teacup and took a bite from a delicious tart filled with jam from the strawberries in the garden.
Cook blushed and bent to place the tray in the oven. “It was cruel of Lord Gaylord to treat him that way.”
“I wonder why he did?”
Cook’s usually cheerful face turned grave. She glanced at the door before speaking. “Wagstaff has made a confession which troubles me, milady. He suffers from dreadful remorse. I want to tell you about it. But I wonder if I should.”
“Oh?” Alert, Laura put down her teacup. “Is it something Robert and I should know about?”
“I cannot say, milady.”
“You’d best tell me, Mrs. Amery, then I can decide what, if anything, must be done.”
“It was back in the days when the former Earl of Debnam and the countess were alive.” Cook scattered more flour over the table, added dough, and picked up her rolling pin. “When Mr. Wagstaff was butler to Lord Gaylord.”
“Do continue,” Laura urged her.
“The day of the shooting, it was. Mr. Wagstaff was in the great hall at Camelia Grove when Lord Gaylord entered. When his lordship removed his gloves to put in his pocket, he had blood on them. There was more blood on his coat. He said to Mr. Wagstaff he’d shot a fox, but he had no gun with him. Mr. Wagstaff said Lord Gaylord couldn’t have gone to the gunroom to replace it before entering the hall.”
Laura took a quick breath. What did this mean? “Why didn’t Wagstaff mention this to the constable or the magistrate investigating the murder at Beechley Park?”
“Mr. Wagstaff said that Lord Gaylord might have told the truth, so he couldn’t take the chance. He was that frightened he’d be let go, so he held his tongue. Years later, a housemaid came to him in tears after Lord Gaylord had assaulted her. He went to face his lordship about it. Mr. Wagstaff was that angry. Everything boiled up and spilled out; his lordship’s ill treatment of the maids—another girl who had been let go earlier for the same reason, as well as the blood on Gaylord’s clothing the day Lord and Lady Debnam died.”
Cook put down the rolling pin, her large bosom heaving. “Lord Gaylord was furious. He accused Mr. Wagstaff of mixing up the days deliberately to cause trouble. Gaylord said he’d killed the fox the day before Lord Debnam had shot Lady Debnam. Although he never produced the animal at the time, and it was customary to use the fur. He fired Mr. Wagstaff, then spread lies around the district warning the owners of the big houses not to hire him because he was unreliable. Mr. Wagstaff says little about those times, but I know the last few years have been very hard for him. That is until you came along like an angel from heaven, milady.”
Laura put her cup and saucer in the scullery sink. “This could be important, Mrs. Amery. I must speak to Wagstaff about it.”
Cook sniffed and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “I daresay he will be angry with me for telling you.”
“Wagstaff will be relieved once the matter is dealt with. It must have distressed him for a long time.”
Cook nodded. “Aye, there is that.”
Laura ran upstairs, tempted to tell Robert, but she was unsure of what his reaction would be. He might forbid her to act. She would write to Debnam.
At her desk, she finished her letter, blotted and signed it, and read it again. Would Debnam think she grasped at straws? And consider it to be of no relevance? It could have been a fox Gaylord had killed. As much as Debnam appeared to dislike Gaylord, he would find it difficult to believe the viscount had shot his sister. What reason could he have had to do so? And just supposing Gaylord had done it, it would be impossible to prove after all these years. But if it caused Debnam to doubt his father’s madness, it might ease his anguish. She took up the pen, and with a deep breath, steadied her hand before adding another line.
I hope this is of help to you, Debnam.The letter folded in her hand. After a glance out the window at the pouring rain, which wasn’t about to ease, she ran downstairs to get her hat and an umbrella. If she left now and took the trap, she could reach the village before the mail coach arrived.
Laura returned to the house after her successful mission, soaked through to her chemise, and ran upstairs to change. When she came downstairs in a fresh house gown, she found Wagstaff and told him what she had done. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It may not have any significance, milady, but I’m glad the weight of it is no longer on my shoulders.”
Laura went to look for Robert. As she entered the hall, Robert came through the front door in his riding clothes, water dripping off his hat. He shrugged out of his oilskin and handed it to the footman. “Dashed rain is persistent. The river is high and could flood the lower meadows. If it keeps up, we will have to move livestock.”
“I have something important to tell you,” Laura said as he walked to the stairs. “It can wait until you come down.”
A hand on the banister, he turned to look at her. “I wonder what that might be, Laura. I fear I may not like it.”
