“In that case, it will be poor Hester Rush,” Mrs Carstairs said. “I do not, as a rule, concern myself with the sordid goings-on of the servants but one of my coachmen, poor Harry Bottle, got himself all tangled up with Mrs Rush from Tavy Castle, two years ago now. And then he died!”
“Surely you cannot blame Mrs Rush? Was she also involved with the victim ... oh!” Mrs Winstanley’s mouth dropped open.
“Yes, and after our Harry Bottle died, I made some enquiries. He is not the first of her dalliances to meet an unfortunate end.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“So it is true,” Adelia said, slowly. “I had heard as much from another source but they thought it was merely co-incidence. Wasn’t there a dairyman who died of consumption?”
“Quite possibly, quite possibly. Now, was it really consumption, or did she poison him?” Mrs Carstairs said.
“I think we had best leave this all to the police,” Adelia said, now regretting opening this particular can of worms. She could see that these rumours were going to quickly spiral out of control and even if she pleaded with both women to keep it all to themselves, she knew they would not.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mrs Carstairs said, patting her hand with over-familiarity. “I am sure they know best, of course. But it must all be such a dreadful shock to your family. How is poor dear Lady Buckshaw? We never see her here in town and we miss her so very much. When she first moved to the castle she was quite the social darling but there’s been hardly sight nor sound of her for nearly a year! Is she quite well?”
“She is very well, but as you say, the events of yesterday have knocked her sideways somewhat. All will be better once Lord Buckshaw has returned.”
“He is coming home, then?”
“Word has been sent.”
“Good.” Mrs Carstairs nodded.
Mrs Winstanley drained the last of her cup of tea. “She’ll never get with child if her husband spends all his time at sea. Well, she might, but...”
“Mrs Winstanley!”
“Pardon me. I speak as I find.”
“Well, you ought not to. Find some manners,” Mrs Carstairs chided. “She must be lonely out there.”
“She has company. There is Lady Agnes, the Countess, and Lady Katharine. Indeed, it’s quite a nest of women.”
“That has its disadvantages,” Mrs Carstairs intoned. “I am saying nothing against any of them, of course, but...”
“But what?”
She shook her head. “Lady Agnes, too, is welcome to visit at any time.” The invitation was noticeably not extended to Lady Katharine. Adelia realised she had yet to call in on Percy’s sister – Felicia’s own sister-in-law, in truth. She ought to be brought into the fold of the family.
And if she was not, Adelia wanted to know why not. Was it possible that the murderer lurked right there in the gatehouse?
Adelia took her chance to talk about Lady Agnes. “I wonder, ladies, if I might indulge in your good sense a little longer. Lady Agnes is a spinster devoted to the care of her mother, and that is all very laudable and so on. But what do you think to the idea of finding a nice, steady, mature sort of husband for her?”
“Does she want that?” Mrs Winstanley blurted out, almost laughing at the idea.
“She might. Plenty of folks marry for pure companionship in their twilight years and I don’t like to think of her wasting away alone in the future. She is witty and awfully clever.”
“That will make it a degree harder to find a husband.”
“No, I disagree,” Mrs Carstairs interrupted, with a light shining in her eyes. “An older lady like Lady Agnes only has her wit and her intelligence as her advantage; she certainly has no youth, beauty or even money on her side. And an older man might be tired of the shallowness of youth and instead appreciate a woman who knows how the world works. Indeed, you’ve just met one potential suitor.”
“Who? The silver-haired naval man who left as I came in?”
“Yes, Captain Everard. He is certainly hoping to meet a lady of some status and is not bothered about her means.”
“What manner of man is he?”
“Self-made but impeccably raised, from good naval stock going back generations. He has the ear of top men at the Admiralty and is welcomed everywhere. He is clever, generous and a God-fearing man to boot.”
“He sounds perfect,” Adelia said. “So I am suspicious – why is he unwed?”
“Twice widowed, alas. And now all the female hordes of Plymouth are pursuing him, even girls far too young for him,” Mrs Carstairs added with distaste.
“So I saw,” Adelia said, remembering the woman with her daughters who had left as she had arrived. “So do you think he will make a good match for Lady Agnes?”
Mrs Carstairs nodded. “If anyone will suit her, he will.”
But Mrs Winstanley injected a note of caution. “While we are talking of strange goings-on at Tavy Castle,” she said, “Are you absolutely sure that Lady Agnes herself did not have a hand in the man’s death? She can be rather bold in her manner.”
Mrs Carstairs shot her a warning glance that Adelia noticed but Mrs Winstanley blithely ignored it. “Oh yes,” Mrs Winstanley went on. “Lady Agnes has always been perfectly civil to me but one cannot help but wonder about her and The Countess. They are an odd pair, rather too secretive if you ask me. All this stuff and nonsense about curses and the past and the family, hinting at things that they have no business hinting at. I’ve heard them speak! They are up to something, and if it’s not murder it’s something else, you mark my words. Captain Everard is a jolly good man. Is Lady Agnes good enough for him, I wonder?”
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