A Trio of Dangers, page 12
“She is a better player than you think,” Gordon said and reckoned that was true on and off the chessboard. She had managed to slip away without promising his kiss for tonight.
Chapter 10 ~~ Sunday, 16th February
Snow graced Maddy’s cheeks and lashes, and Gordon wished those were his kisses. She laughed as the filly danced over the frozen ground.
“You’re an excellent rider,” he complimented. “I doubt most men could match you.”
“Oh, certainly better,” she retorted. “You try riding sidesaddle.”
He shouted with laughter.
They drew their horses up beside the pond. As he jumped down and came around to help her dismount, Gordon glanced at the half-frozen water. Reeds stood bare and stiff at the frozen edges. Some of them were broken. They had dipped down to the water and frozen overnight. The breeze rippled water over the ice. And something protruded above the ice.
Maddy pointed. “It looks like ... like a hand, Gordon.”
He looked again and saw what she had. “Stay here.” He crossed the rimed ground—and heard crunching behind him. He might have known that she wouldn’t stay back.
Gordon stopped at the edge. Snow dusted the ground and the reeds and the frozen water. Ice cracked under his boots. He peered at the frozen water.
Maddy grabbed his coat. “It is a hand,” she whispered although no one would hear them in this wintry landscape.
He turned back and squeezed the gloved hand clutching him. “This time, Maddy, stay here.”
Her gaze glued to the ice behind him. Her face looked pinched with cold and worry. “Did you see—?”
“Just that it’s a woman. Too late to give her any help.” He drew her back from the edge. “Maddy. Maddy.” He gave her a little shake. That brought those dark eyes back to him. “I want you to ride back. Tell Mr. Jespers. Tell no one else. He’ll bring the people who are needed. He’ll need a cart as well.”
“While you stay here.” Her fingers clutched his coat. “A guardian she no longer needs.”
“But a guardian she will have, for this little time. Will you go? There should be no danger for you.”
She nodded.
Wishing Death did not wait at his back, Gordon tossed her up onto the filly. He caught her hand as she gathered up the reins. “You will ride safely.”
Her gaze drifted to the pond then slewed back to him. “Yes. I wish—.”
“I know.” He squeezed her hand then stepped back to catch his own horse’s reins.
Her horse flew off. He steadied the big roan, watching until Maddy passed beyond the rise of the field.
The snow no longer seemed a grace upon the day. It settled over the ground. He thought about it settling over the body. How long before the young woman would have been found if he and Maddy had not ridden this way?
Gordon reckoned an hour must pass before anyone came. If this woman’s death were another murder, then the body should be left until Jespers—as squire and local magistrate—could view the scene. He walked his horse around the pond, but he saw no evidence that could be construed as belonging with the woman and the violence that had been done to her.
Back at the broken reeds he found a place away from the pond to tie his horse. He didn’t want to return to the pond. Maddy hadn’t seen all that he had through the thin skim of ice.
Like a peaceful undine, a young woman had stared up. The snow had barely dusted the frozen water above her face. With glazed eyes and hair floating beneath the surface freeze, her body lay just barely submerged. The dark grey of her clothes proclaimed her a local servant, but he didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t one of the maids at Chanfrons. Yet her corpse lay on Chanfrons’ land. She might be associated with the estate.
He wondered if Jespers would recognize her. Gordon could recognize every person at Grove Park. He was not so quick with information about his other, less-visited properties. He thought Jespers an involved landowner, but he could be wrong.
He examined the ground closely. He found no signs of struggle, but the reeds were broken in more places than he had stepped. No clear footprints were left on the frozen ground. He could see his only because of the disturbed frost. The young woman must have been dropped into the pond before frost. She hadn’t struggled. She had to have already been dead.
The snow fell steadily, sometimes only flurries, sometimes steadier, until the rimed ground was dusty and the frozen edges of the pond had lacy frills to dress the ice. Cold to the bone, he reckoned his horse needed to be warmed up. He untied the big roan and walked him around the pond again. He kept well back from the pond’s edge. On this circuit he found tracks, a place where someone had stumbled over the ground and turned over several clods. The fresher ones were richer dirt while the others had been leeched of color by the winter sun. He found no other signs, but those were on a track to the nearby woods.
It seemed preternaturally quiet. No birds chipped or darted through the air. At the bottom of a fallow field, the pond was far from any of the farm’s winter activity. He tied the roan to the maple and dug his hands into his pockets, occasionally stamping his feet when they felt numb.
He had given up walking and just stood, letting the snow dust over him before he heard them coming. The creak of wheels alerted him. Then two horses with riders crested the hill. As the riders started down the long field, he saw other men, walking beside a dray, as silent as the land they crossed. Gordon walked back to the pond, standing between the approaching men and the young woman in the water.
Jespers urged his horse to a canter. He reached Gordon before the others had half-crossed the field. He dismounted. He gave him a level look. “Where?”
Wordlessly, he led the way to the broken reeds. He pointed to his own tracks to the pond then waited for the squire to have his viewing.
Jespers stared at the dead undine for a long while, long enough for the men with the cart to reach the bottom of the field and begin the approach to the pond. Then he came back, walking as carefully as Gordon had. “It looks as if he placed her in the water before the pond froze, or the ice would be cracked. How long, do you think? Late last night?”
“I would think so. I did find some other signs.” He described them. He could see the overturned clods from where he stood.
Jespers grunted and walked unerringly to the spot. He stood silent a long time, looking at the ground, gauging the distance to the pond, staring at the direct line to the woods. He stood so long that the men arrived with the dray. Although they stood back, waiting, the other rider dismounted and joined Gordon.
Stephen Pierpont shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Who is it?”
Gordon looked at him then, without answering, looked back at Jespers.
The squire left the overturned ground and returned to the broken reeds and drowned undine. He didn’t walk to the water but stared at the ground again. Finally, he stepped back. Without turning, he called, “Robson, come here!”
A man blocky and hunched in his heavy winter drab walked slowly past. He joined Jespers. The squire spoke then pointed. The man looked. He stood as silent as his master. Then he spoke, too low for Gordon to hear. A great step forward followed those words. Ice cracked. Water sloshed. The blocky man bent and punched the ice several times then reached into the freezing water and lifted the woman out.
Water poured from her clothing as he carried her out. Long dark hair was so heavy with wet that the wind didn’t stir it. The lank length streamed onto the frost every step that the man took. He stopped briefly beside Jespers. The squire touched her eyes, closing them. Then he touched her hand before he stepped back, letting Robson pass with his burden to the cart.
One of the men had laid out a cloth. Robson placed her gently on it. He drew the cloth over her, covering her body and face.
They pulled the cart around and headed back.
Jespers joined them.
“Who was she?” Gordon asked.
“Anna Cooper. A kitchen maid. Robson is her cousin. She has no other family. She came here looking for work two months, maybe three months ago.”
“Can you tell how she died?” Pierpont asked.
“Strangled, like the other woman. The bruises on her neck are from fingers.”
“The tramp came back?”
Jespers glanced at him then stared back at the pond. “I don’t think we can continue to blame a tramp.”
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Robson took Anna Cooper to his cottage. Jespers, with Gordon accompanying him, followed. Robson didn’t want to let them examine her body, but the squire insisted. “I mean no disrespect to her. I will not view her as more than an innocent victim. I deeply regret her death, but her murderer must be found.”
The big tenant stared at his landlord then nodded and stood back. “M’wife will be there.”
“And she will be the only one to touch Anna. That I promise.”
He opened the door to the inner room. Mrs. Robson turned. She wiped her eyes. “The squire must see certain things, wife,” Robson said. “You will help him.”
“Hain’t she been bothered enough?”
“We’ll not let no man get by with her murder, will we?”
She subsided. Jespers went in, and Robson closed the door. He planted himself before it.
Gordon waited. He heard the squire murmuer to the woman, heard rustling. He tried not to look at Robson.
Finally a knock signaled the end of the examination. Robson opened the door to let the squire out of the room. He exchanged a look with his wife then shut the door a second time, even more firmly than before.
“Robson, we will have her funeral in the chapel. Vicar Wordsworth will serve for her unless you and your wife would have someone else.”
“No. Anna liked the vicar. Liked his wife, too. She talked to the woman several times.”
“Forgive me, but I would ask some questions. The sooner we have these answers, the sooner we will find the man who killed her.”
“Was she marked up like that woman in Kinver?”
“Someone did beat her. They focused on particular places. Your wife will tell you.”
“She suffered then.”
“I will not lie to you. She did suffer. All the more reason to find this man.”
“You think it’s that tramp, the way they were claiming in Kinver?”
“Do you think Anna would go off with a tramp?”
“No, she wouldn’t. Not by choice. I saw the marks on her wrists. She were bound.”
“She was.”
“Did she die there by the pond?”
“No. She was placed there after her death. Whoever took her there came through the woods.”
“That’s what you were looking at. Something on the ground there.”
“Not enough to go on. I know you, Robson. You want to get on looking for whoever this man is. He has killed two women. We do not want him to kill anyone else, especially since he makes them suffer before they die. However, there are other bruises on Anna, just as there were on the other woman. Older bruises, most similar, some not similar at all. Whoever this man is, Anna has been with him more than once over the past two or three weeks.”
“She ain’t been walking out with anybody, Squire.” And Robson stuck to that answer no matter how many ways Jespers came at him with the question.
They left the cottage and walked back up to the house. Gordon felt chilled through by more than the temperature.
“What did Maddy tell you?” he asked when they cleared the cottage.
“A woman had been found drowned. Did she realize the woman was murdered?”
“I don’t know. I tried not to let her see much, but she’s a keen mind. If she didn’t see anything, she would paint it with her imagination.”
The servants didn’t speak when they came into the house.
“Penniman, I want to speak to the cook and the other kitchen maids.”
“It’s true then? Anna’s dead?”
“Murdered.”
A footman exclaimed and received the butler’s baleful glare. “They will come immediately, Squire. In your study?”
“Yes. And have coffee brought for Lord Musgrove and myself.”
Gordon followed him to his study. “You want my assistance?”
“Two minds are better than one. What I hear may not be what you hear.”
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Over the next couple of hours, they did not learn much.
Robson thought his cousin wasn’t walking out with anyone. The cook said only that Anna had been trying to slip away from her duties in the evening, yet she knew of no new person in the maid’s life. One kitchen maid, Angie, had nothing to say, but the other, Mellie Robson, said that Anna had had a new beau for the past few weeks.
“Three weeks, Squire Jespers,” she replied to his question. “Three weeks, at least. I know—well, I just know that it hain’t been no month yet. Maybe a bit more. Anna was all excited about `im, but she wouldn’t tell his name. Daren’t, she said.”
Jespers leaned forward at the maid’s choice of word. “She dared not say his name?”
Mellie nodded. “That’s what she said, Squire.”
“Did she hint about him? Did she talk about where they met? Or how they met?”
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps an old beau from before she came to Chanfrons? Someone she was no longer to see?”
Mouth screwed to one side, she stared at the squire for several seconds before she finally shook her head. “No, Squire. The man she used to walk out with, before she came here, he went off to sea. She was that mad at him for up and leaving her. She said she was well rid of him. She hain’t talked of him since right after she came here.”
Gordon leaned forward. “This man that she was seeing, did she say anything about the way he looked? Or the reason he demanded their relationship be kept secret?”
“Now that’s curious, my lord, for she did say that she had to keep everything secret.”
“When did she say this?”
“About a week ago? Maybe a little more.”
“What were her exact words?” Jespers asked.
“Just that she couldn’t talk about `im, that he didn’t want her to talk about `im at all.”
“Did she say anything about money?” Gordon asked. “Did she have any new gifts that she flaunted?”
“She daren’t flaunt anything, or Mrs. Ridges would’ve demanded she show what she had to you.”
“Did she show you anything? Or hint that better times would be coming for her?”
The maid’s brow crinkled up as her words confused him. “No, my lord.”
“That will be all, Mellie. I will ask that you not return to your room until we have had a chance to search upstairs. Have Penniman come in. Thank you.”
She curtsied. Her turn and first steps were slow, but she scurried by the time she reached the door.
Jespers leaned back in his chair and tapped the quill he had used to write down particulars. “From your questions I gather you believe she had associated herself with a man of substance.”
“That would be the only reason she would agree to keep their relationship secret.”
“If he were married—.”
“I don’t know your Anna Cooper, but most young women care nothing about saving someone’s marriage. No, I think only a difference in their stations would affect her. She might have dreams of improving her life, and she wouldn’t want to threaten that.”
“And the gifts?”
“Proof that she would be rewarded.”
The butler came in. “Yes, sir?” He gave a slight bow to Gordon.
“I was going to suggest the cook or the housekeeper or perhaps both search Anna Cooper’s room.”
“I can inform them.”
Gordon cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more disinterested third party can do the searching. Also female. Overseen by both the cook and Mellie, who might know of particular hiding places?”
“Ah,” Jespers said. “My thanks. I knew your perspective would be helpful. Penniman, will you fetch my—Miss Whittaker? And send in the next person.”
“Very good, Squire.”
A groom was next. Little more than a youth, he looked anxious at coming into the dark-paneled study and facing both his squire and a peer of the realm. He took one look at Gordon then kept his gaze straight ahead. He swallowed.
Jespers consulted an earlier note. “Penniman reports that you witnessed something last night. You were telling one of the footmen that you saw Anna Cooper sneak out of the kitchen, after Cook had closed the kitchen.”
“Yes, Squire.”
“That is what you saw?”
“Yes, Squire.”
He set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
“I saw `er walk through the kitchen an’ grab her cloak an’ go out t’ door.”
“Anything else?”
“No, Squire.”
Gordon decided to try. “Why were you in the kitchen, Robson?” Then he smiled and side-stepped his question. “There are a lot of Robsons on this estate. Which Robson are you?”
“Alun, m’lord.”
“A cousin of Anna?”
“She’s on t’other side.”
“Which side?”
“She’s a cousin of Mal Robson’s wife, m’lord. She hain’t a Robson fer truth, not like Mrs. Ridges.”
“I see. You are a cousin of Mal Robson.” The youth nodded. “And where were you when you saw her?”
“In t’kitchen, sir.”
“The kitchen? After everything was closed up for the night? After Mrs. Ridges had left her domain and everyone else had retired for the night?” The groom kept nodding, so he added, “Since you saw her and no one else did, why were you in the kitchen?”
“Mrs. Ridges says I can drink vinegar water to calm m’stummick. I was drinkin’ that an’ gaggin’ m’self when she came into the kitchen.”
“Did she see you?”
“No, m’lord. I was in the pantry wit’ t’door ajar.”
“I would also gag if I had to drink vinegar water. Tell me what Anna Cooper did.”
