She felt in those moments that she was once again with the man she’d enjoyed so very much before they’d married, the man who’d never hesitated to comfort her, to laugh with her, to simply appreciate what and who she was.
“Thank you,” she said, and straightened up. She was knuckling her eyes with her fists, and it made him smile.
“You’re welcome. It’s morning. A maid is waiting in the hall to assist you. We will spend the day here. This business with Bernard and his wife, it’s a mystery and Mr. Billings hasn’t a notion where to begin.”
“And you do?”
“Yes. I wish to speak at great length with Bernard. I will ask the local physician to look at Mrs. Leach.”
“But why? Didn’t she die by strangulation?”
“Perhaps not.”
“I will speak to the stable lad.”
A thorny problem, Thomas thought, and cleared his throat. He said, “That won’t be possible.”
“Why not?” She was off his lap in an instant, standing there in front of him, frowning, her hands on her hips, that white nightgown of hers flowing from the throat down to her toes. “I could question him as well as you could. I will even have Tim there with me.”
“The stable lad is gone. Tim is looking after Pen and the carriage horses. Tim said he must have left while he was asleep, probably fearing he’d be blamed.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry to take the wind out of your sails.”
“You have surprised me, true enough. Do you believe the stable lad knew what had happened even while he was leading your horse to the stables?”
“If he did, then it would mean that he must have been involved. I will ask Bernard about the lad’s family—”
“Ah, and then I will go speak to them, find out where he is.”
“Perhaps. Now, I will meet you downstairs for breakfast.”
Life had turned very strange, Meggie was thinking as the maid, Tossa—a Spanish name, she told Meggie when asked, handed down from an ancestor who’d been flung up on the southern Cornish coast during the wreck of the great Spanish Armada during the reign of Good Queen Bess—helped her bathe, arranged her hair and her clothes. Tossa told her Squire Billings was all bluff and no brain, but a good man even so. When Meggie emerged nearly an hour later, she looked like a lady, and it was a good feeling.
She heard Mr. Billings’s voice as she eased into the dining room.
“I say, my lord, I know all about the Grakers, they’re bad, there’s no question about that. I didn’t know that Bernard had killed one of them. However did he manage it? It’s rare to see one. I’ve never heard of actually catching one.”
“I will find out,” said Thomas. “Bernard told me it was an accident.”
“Ah, here’s some more eggs for you, my lord.”
“Thank you. This is my wife, Squire, Lady Lancaster.
We appreciate your hospitality.” Thomas rose from his chair, followed by Squire Billings, who gave her a brief bow and a fat smile.
“Good morning,” Meggie said as she eased into the chair opposite her husband, held out for her by a butler with trembling hands, who was so pale he looked nearly dead. Squire Billings said matter-of-factly, seeing the countess’s alarm, “Elroy is distraught. He finds death, particularly violent unexpected death, very upsetting to his innards. Fetch her ladyship some eggs and toast, Elroy. Try not to think of Mrs. Leach, and whatever you do, don’t drop the tray anywhere close to her ladyship.”
“It were a bad thing, sir,” Elroy said, hands trembling even more, “a more terrible thing than I could imagine,” and left to fetch the food.
“You are newly wedded,” Squire Billings said between mouthfuls of kippers. “A miserable thing to have happen. Ah well, at least you had your first night together in relative peace and calm, eh?” Squire Billings actually leered, most of it, thankfully, behind his napkin, but Thomas still wanted to kick him.
Meggie realized what he’d said, fastened her eyes on the scrambled eggs, and said, “Ha.” She spent a good minute buttering her toast and decorating it with some gooseberry jam.