“Even that day her husband died, she thanked me for making sure all the servants left the house so he wouldn’t be disturbed. She wouldn’t leave herself until she was sure everyone else was gone, just like he wanted. She’s always thinking about other people first, that’s Mrs. Blackwell.”
Sarah could have destroyed his image of his mistress by revealing that instead of visiting the sick, as he believed, Mrs. Blackwell had spent her afternoons with a lover, using the money her husband gave her for charity on morphine. But he probably wouldn’t believe her. That was the nature of the spell women like Letitia cast.
“Mr. Granger,” she said instead, changing the subject to more pressing matters, “I believe you aren’t really seriously ill. I think you’re just suffering from a nervous stomach, probably because you’re under too much strain at the moment. This has been just as hard on you as it has on Mrs. Blackwell-”
“Oh, no!” he insisted. “It’s not the same at all! She should never have seen her husband’s body. I should have been here first. I should have found him. How will she ever recover from such a shock?”
“But she did find her husband’s body. You can’t change that,” Sarah pointed out, “and there’s no use blaming yourself either. You didn’t know the doctor was going to be murdered that afternoon, and you didn’t know Mrs. Blackwell would come home early either. If that’s what’s been causing you so much misery, you need to put it out of your mind, Mr. Granger. It’s making you ill, and you won’t get any better until you make up your mind about it.”
“Are you saying I worried myself sick?” he asked doubtfully.
“I’m fairly certain that’s true. The responsibilities of your position with the doctor dead have probably made things even more difficult, too. You can’t do much about that, but you can stop worrying about Mrs. Blackwell. She’ll recover and go on with her life. And if you’re sick, you won’t be any help to her, now will you? She shouldn’t have to be concerned about how the house is being managed with everything else she has to deal with,” she added, playing on his weakness.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he said.
“You should,” Sarah told him. “I’m going to give you some ideas to be kinder to your stomach, but the most important thing is to stop blaming yourself for things you couldn’t help. Do you think you can do that? For Mrs. Blackwell’s sake?” she tried when he looked unconvinced.
“I can do no less,” he said finally.
Sarah managed not to roll her eyes. “You should watch what you eat for the next few days,” she said, and gave him all the commonsense rules for someone with a bad stomach, along with a remedy to ease his digestive difficulties.
When she was satisfied that Granger had accepted her plan for his recovery, she went back downstairs, thinking she’d have to share this story with Malloy. If Letitia was able to inspire this sort of devotion in the hired help, it seemed very likely someone close to her would have happily murdered her husband to protect her. Perhaps that person was visiting her even now.
Just as Sarah reached the front hallway, eager to discover who Mrs. Blackwell’s caller might be, the maid was opening the door to yet another visitor: Amos Potter.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” Sarah said, setting her medical bag down on the floor near the parlor door.
“Mrs. Brandt, what brings you here?” he asked anxiously. “Nothing wrong with Mrs. Blackwell, I hope.”
Sarah managed not to groan. “As a matter of fact, I understand that Mrs. Blackwell is well enough to receive visitors today. I was just going in to see her. I’m sure she’d be delighted to receive you, too,” she lied without remorse.
As she had expected, Potter was thrilled at the prospect of meeting with Letitia at last. “I wonder if she would be up to speaking with me privately. There are matters of some delicacy I need to discuss with her as soon as possible.”
He was fairly trembling with anticipation of such an audience.
“I’m sure she needs to consult with you as well,” Sarah said shamelessly. “Shall we go in?”
“I should announce you, ma’am,” the maid said, wringing her hands as she obviously remembered the last time when she’d failed to do so, with such disastrous results.
“Nonsense,” Sarah said recklessly. “I don’t need an introduction, and Mr. Potter is practically a member of the family.”
Before the maid could protest again, Sarah pushed open the parlor doors.
It was difficult to say who was more surprised. Peter Dudley, who had been sitting on the sofa with Letitia, jumped to his feet. Letitia gasped aloud and nearly dropped her baby, whom she was holding gingerly. Amos Potter gasped, too, although Sarah wasn’t quite sure what had surprised him more-the presence of a strange man in Letitia’s parlor or the picturesque family tableau they made, with both father and son’s coppery hair glowing in the afternoon sunshine.
Sarah felt a stab of guilt. She had merely intended to embarrass Letitia by allowing Potter to catch her with Dudley. She’d never expected them to have the baby there. Now, of course, Potter would figure out the whole sordid story in a moment, unless he was far less intelligent than Sarah had judged him to be.
“Amos,” Letitia exclaimed, clutching awkwardly at the baby so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. She had not developed much confidence in handling him yet, probably from lack of practice.
Sarah hurried to assist her, but Dudley beat her to it. He took the baby from her arms and cradled him awkwardly. Which was, unfortunately, the worst thing he could have done. If there was any chance Potter hadn’t noticed the resemblance between them before, he couldn’t miss it now. The two redheads were no more than a foot apart.
“Letitia,” Potter said in a somewhat strangled voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman. Is he a… a close relative of yours?”
Bless him, Potter was still clinging to a last shred of hope.
The baby, probably feeling insecure in Dudley’s uncertain grasp, began to wail. Dudley tried bouncing him, which only made him cry louder.
“Amos, this is Peter Dudley. He… he’s an old family friend,” Letitia lied, raising her voice to be heard above the baby’s squalling. “Mr. Potter is…
Sarah stood back for another moment, observing everyone’s reactions. She told herself this was what Malloy would have done, if he were here, although she doubted he would have enjoyed the scene quite as much as she was. But then, he felt sorry for poor, sweet Letitia, too.
Finally, she’d had her fill, and she stepped forward and took the baby from Dudley’s arms. She crooned to him, and his cries quieted instantly. No one but she seemed to notice the child at all now. She was relieved to see that he seemed to be gaining weight. His little cheeks had filled out, and his arms were developing dimples.
“It… it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter,” Dudley said without much enthusiasm, extending his right hand now that he was no longer encumbered with the baby.
Potter pretended not to notice his hand, or the rest of him either, for that matter. He turned all of his attention to Letitia. “You’re looking well, Letitia,” he said. His voice was strained, but he managed a smile for her.
She favored him with one in return. It was the kind of smile women like Letitia were trained from birth to offer in uncomfortable social situations. If a woman was pretty enough, she could get herself out of almost anything with that smile. This situation would certainly be a test of its effectiveness. “I’m feeling much better, thank you, Amos. It’s kind of you to call. Won’t you sit down?”
Potter hesitated a moment. He obviously wanted to take a seat beside Letitia on the sofa, but Dudley stood in the way. He’d have to shoulder him aside, and although he might want to do that, he decided to concede defeat and took the chair on her other side. Dudley sat back down on the sofa, although he was probably sitting a little farther away from Letitia now than he had been before Sarah and Amos came in.
No one paid the slightest attention to Sarah, so she sat down in the chair across from Letitia and Dudley, settling the baby in her arms. He seemed perfectly content, so she was able to devote herself to observing her other companions.
For a moment no one spoke. Dudley was plainly too socially inept to know how to handle an awkward situation, and Letitia’s social instruction had apparently not included handling such an oddly mismatched assortment of visitors.
Finally, Potter said, “I would very much like to speak with you privately, Letitia. There are some urgent business matters about Edmund’s estate which I need to discuss with you immediately.”
