Lady Rights a Wrong Read online

  “I actually did meet Mrs. Price a few times since she arrived in the neighborhood, Mr. Winter,” Cecilia said. “I am so sorry for what has happened.”

  “How very kind you are,” Mr. Winter said. “I must see my wife home now, but perhaps we might call on you later at Danby Hall? If it is not too much trouble.”

  “Of course,” Cecilia answered, puzzled as to why he wanted to talk to them at Danby. “We are happy to help in whatever way we can.”

  She watched as Monty and Mary hurried down the pathway. Though they were arm in arm, she could have sworn they were arguing.

  * * *

  “Well, Jane? What do you think of the Price sisters?” Cecilia asked as they clambered over a stile to cut across the fields as a shortcut to Danby. They had already missed luncheon, and her mother was sure to be furious. Maybe Cecilia could fudge a bit and tell her they had seen Mr. Brown at the churchyard? Which they had, for an instant, waving at him as he fastened a notice to the lych-gate. “They don’t strike me as exactly Jane and Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Not at all,” Jane answered, hoisting Jack’s basket under her arm. “My brothers go at one another like cats and dogs all the time, and my dad’s not above giving them a walloping for it from time to time. But we always have one another’s backs. I don’t understand having such—well, such contempt for a sibling, my lady.”

  “Is it just the fact that Mrs. Winter is anti-suffrage? Or maybe there’s some old childhood rivalry? Vying for their mother’s affection?”

  “They do seem like very different sorts of people. But I would have said Mrs. Price was closer to Miss Black than to her daughters.”

  “So it could definitely be old family wounds, as well as new politics. But Mrs. Winter said she was here to mend fences.”

  “Why now? Right before Mrs. Price dies like that.”

  “That I could not say.” They climbed to the summit of a hill, and to one direction she could see the chimneys of Danby. To the other, there was the crumbling, ill-kempt stone wall of Lord Elphin’s estate, past the gleaming new chimneys of the Byswaters’ grand house. “Tell me, Jane, do you really think it was just a fall? There are plenty of people who would have liked to see the last of Mrs. Price. Men like Lord Elphin, for instance. As Anne said, people who think they are due power won’t give it up easily.”

  Jane frowned thoughtfully. She, too, liked a good, thrilling detective novel and had been a keen observer of what happened when Mr. Hayes was killed. “You do hear of ladies at suffrage meetings being knocked about savagely, my lady, and Lord Elphin seems just the type to do that. And what about Mrs. Price’s husband, or that Mr. Winter? He does seem to know all the proper behavior, but there’s just something about him . . .”

  “I quite agree with you there, Jane. Perhaps Mary Winter married a man like her father? She did seem to think her mother and sister had done something to wrong her and her husband. But what sort of wrong? And what sort of grudge do they hold about it?”

  They climbed over another low wall and onto Danby land, following a pathway through the park. “And another thing,” Cecilia said. “What will happen to the Union without Mrs. Price? Who do you think is slated to become the leader now? Anne hinted that there were some disagreements with its direction between her mother and Mrs. Palmer, and even with Cora Black.”

  “Surely, Miss Price is the logical candidate, my lady? And it looked to me as if she and Miss Black did all the work while her mother took her bows onstage.”

  “Yes, indeed. But such a system did seem to work well for them. Mrs. Price knew how to draw in a crowd, almost better than Sarah Bernhardt. She created the enticement, but then who managed the funds? The logistics? Budgets would surely have seemed dull to Amelia Price, yet proper management would have been vital to it all. We should find out who does what, and who wants to do what. Who has access to the funds. Maybe someone did want to push Mrs. Price out and do things their own way.”

  “Miss Price? Or maybe Cora? I must say, my lady, she doesn’t seem all that robust right now; she had a lot of medicine bottles in her bedroom. And what about the vice president, Mrs. Palmer?”

  “Anne does seem like a decisive sort of lady, but I don’t know Mrs. Palmer well at all. I shall have to ask around about her. And what about the man Mr. Talbot saw walking away from the cottage?”

  “Maybe it was that thief the sergeant was after?”

  “Georgie Guff. It could very well be. Anne said her mother’s ring was missing, and I didn’t see her wearing it at the rally last night.” Cecilia sighed. “Mrs. Price did have lots of enemies, yet surely, she had plenty of people who liked her, too. Loved her, even. And we saw where love got poor Mr. Hayes. Do you think Mrs. Price could even have had a lover? I’m sure her husband the respectable solicitor wouldn’t have liked that. But who?”

  Jane laughed. “And where would she have found the time for an illicit affair? She was always traveling, giving her speeches. Cora said they just got back from France.”

  “Oooh, maybe a handsome Frenchman? It’s true she was busy, and her progress was always followed in the papers. But she was very beautiful. We’ll just have to keep our ears open for any gossip.”

  They opened the gate between the park and the formal gardens and turned toward the house. “There’s another thing, my lady,” Jane said. “The way the body was lying. As if she had been standing on the landing just above, outside the bedrooms, and fell straight down. And the torn sash. Maybe someone grabbed it, ripping it, and she fell? If she was pushed on purpose, then she clearly didn’t just trip and fall down the stairs.”

  “Oh, very good, Jane!” Cecilia cried. She pictured the scene in her mind, and it was just as Jane said. Except for the crooked arm, Amelia hadn’t looked as if she flailed about as she tumbled down. “And no one heard anything, either. Maybe someone surprised her there?”

  “Cora was on those medicines, my lady, and didn’t Miss Price say she’s a heavy sleeper? What about the maid, Nellie?”

  “Could you speak to her? She wouldn’t even come out of her room when we were there.”

  Jane sighed. “I can try, but Miss Clarke has me running off my feet every ten minutes lately. Constantly changing her mind about her outfits! She’s not usually like this. I wonder . . .”

  “Wonder what, Jane?”

  “I wonder why she’s second-guessing herself all the time. Miss Clarke usually knows her own mind very well, you know, my lady.”

  Cecilia did know. Annabel was very confident. A lot like Mrs. Price, in fact, though Annabel used her talents for quite other purposes. “Maybe it’s my brother? We all thought he would surely propose by now, and it would all be settled. I’ll speak to him, if you like. Or maybe it’s not Patrick at all. Maybe she’s seen life at Danby now and wants nothing to do with it. I couldn’t really blame her.”

  “Oh, I doubt that, my lady. She keeps a copy of Debrett’s Peerage beside her bed, so she can check on people’s titles whenever she likes. No, once she’s set on something, I don’t think she’ll let it go. Like your grandmother’s terrier.”

  Cecilia had to laugh at the image of Annabel as Sebastian. Who, then, would be Jack? “Well, it’s up to her, of course, but I do hope she will decide to stay. I never want to lose you, and really I think she would be good for my brother. She’s very strong.” She remembered stories of Annabel’s life before she came to Danby, rumors of elopements from her California millionaire father’s home and such. New, strong blood would be good for Danby, just as it was for women in general.

  “She is that, my lady. We all have to be strong, don’t we?” Jane smiled down at Jack in his basket. “Just like Jack here, a survivor.”

  Cecilia thought of the pickle they were all in now. “If there is a murder, especially by some anti-suffrage man, I’m afraid the inspector and his men will just brush it under the rug. We must make sure that doesn’t happen.”

/>   “No, my lady, we can’t let that happen at all.”

  As they turned toward the lawn and the terrace, Cecilia saw Patrick and Annabel strolling together on the croquet green, laughing under her lacy parasol. Maybe Jane’s doubts in that direction were wrong? Cecilia quite hoped so. But her hopeful spirit was dashed when she saw that the couple was not alone at all. Lady Avebury sat at a tea table on the terrace, along with the dowager countess, Sebastian, and Mr. Brown. She groaned, fearing her excuse of calling in the village to find out more about the church bazaar was quite found out, and there would be trouble.

  “Cecilia!” her mother cried. To Cecilia’s surprise, she was not scolded at all, but her mother leaped up from the table and ran to hug her close. Remembering the Prices and their quarrels, she hugged her mother close in return, and inhaled deeply of her comforting lemony perfume. “Your grandmother and Mr. Brown just arrived from the village and said that there was a terrible death, and I was so worried when you were nowhere to be found! Are you quite well?”

  How did Mr. Brown get there before them so quickly? She wouldn’t have an excuse now. “I’m sorry, Mama. Jane and I just walked into the village, and then I couldn’t just leave Miss Price and Mrs. Winter when they had heard about their mother. I would never want to worry you.”

  “Such kind charity, Lady Cecilia,” Mr. Brown said with a smile. “You are always so thoughtful of others.”

  “Isn’t she just?” the dowager countess murmured wryly. “I knew there would be trouble as soon as I heard that sort of woman was coming to Danby. And see! I was right, as usual. I do hope you have learned your lesson about suffrage, Cecilia.”

  “Come and have some tea, darling,” her mother said, leading her to the table and seating her next to Mr. Brown. Jane disappeared around the side of the house toward the servants’ hall, no doubt before Annabel could see her and send her on some errand. “Have one of Mrs. Frazer’s raspberry cakes; they’re your favorite. You must forget all about such unpleasantness and hear Mr. Brown’s new ideas for the bazaar. He agrees with me that you would be superb in charge of the bring-and-buy stall!”

  Cecilia smiled and took a cake, but she knew her mother was quite wrong—she would never forget.

  Chapter Twelve

  I beg your pardon, my lady,” Mrs. Caffey said, “but Inspector Hennesy is downstairs asking to see you and Miss Hughes. If this is not a good moment . . .”

  Cecilia sighed and exchanged a glance with Jane. They had been sitting in her chamber, Jane doing some mending as Cecilia read aloud from the newest penny dreadful thriller, trying to distract themselves from the real terrible events happening just beyond their doorstep. It wasn’t really working, though. “No, Mrs. Caffey, now is fine. Better to get it over with, I think.”

  “Lady Avebury and Miss Clarke have gone into Ripon to do some shopping, and Lord Avebury has gone out with the estate agent,” Mrs. Caffey said. “I’ve put the inspector in the library.”

  “Thank you.” Cecilia put away her book and stood as Jane tucked the lacy petticoat into her workbox. Jack was nowhere to be seen; no doubt he was hiding from the inspector, the lucky scamp.

  Mrs. Caffey led them downstairs. “Should I or Mr. Redvers stay with you, my lady?”

  “Oh no, I don’t want you to worry yourselves, Mrs. Caffey,” Cecilia said, wary of what the inspector might ask. Gossip spread so fast around the house, despite Mrs. Caffey and Mr. Redvers’s legendary discretion. “I would hate to add to your tasks for the day. I’m sure the inspector won’t stay long. There isn’t much we can tell him.”

  Mrs. Caffey looked doubtful. “Danby has always been such a peaceful place, my lady. And now for such terrible things to happen here . . .” She paused with them outside the library door. Bridget the housemaid was dusting the ancient Chinese vases in the foyer, and Mrs. Caffey shooed her away. “By the way, my lady, Bridget has asked if she might have the afternoon off to visit her aunt?”

  “Her aunt?”

  “Yes. It seems her aunt has something to do with the suffragettes. A Mrs. Palmer, I believe.”

  “Indeed?” Cecilia was shocked to find a connection between Danby and the suffragettes so close to home. She remembered the stern-looking Harriet Palmer and the rumors of some rift within the Union. “I had no idea Bridget was a connection of Mrs. Palmer.”

  “Nor did I, my lady, until today. As you know, Bridget’s uncle owns the butcher’s shop in the village. Mrs. Palmer was once married to his brother, until the man died and she married again. I’m not sure they were close, but—well, family is family, my lady, especially in difficult times.”

  “Of course it is. She must go see Mrs. Palmer, by all means.” Cecilia wondered what Bridget might be able, or willing, to tell them about the Union. “Tell her she may have the rest of the afternoon off. I’m sure Mama won’t mind.”

  As Mrs. Caffey left, Cecilia whispered to Jane, “Did you know about Bridget and Mrs. Palmer?”

  Jane shook her head. “Not at all. She didn’t mention it when we were all talking belowstairs about the Prices coming to Danby.”

  “The world is a small place indeed. Perhaps she can tell us more later.” Cecilia eyed the library door as if it were guarded by Cerberus. “Well, come along, Jane. We must get this over with, yes?”

  Inspector Hennesy and Sergeant Dunn waited at the far end of the library. The library was quite the most fantastical room in the house, redone by her grandparents in a medieval Gothic style once so beloved by Queen Victoria. The soaring, carved, beamed ceiling, stained dark to look ancient, blended with the wine-red velvet draperies, the stained glass in some of the windows, the red velvet and tufted leather chairs and settees she had lounged on for so many hours with beloved books. At one end of the vast room was a minstrels’ gallery, reached by a spiral staircase and concealed by a false rood screen. It was an excellent place to hide and eavesdrop. Or, on quieter days, to curl up and read by the fireplace, massive enough to roast a boar, if such was needed in those modern days.

  She had hidden up in that gallery the last time there was trouble at Danby, when the inspector used the library to investigate a crime.

  “Inspector Hennesy, Sergeant Dunn, so nice to see you again,” Cecilia said with a polite smile. She noticed that the sergeant blushed in a rather adorable way when he looked at Jane. “Please, do sit down. We’re quite eager to be of assistance in this awful matter. How can we help?”

  They sat down in a grouping of tapestry-covered chairs by the tall windows that overlooked the garden. Inspector Hennesy took out a notepad and gave her a stern look as he opened it. “I understand you knew the deceased, Lady Cecilia?”

  “I met her a few times. I attended her rallies at the Guildhall and called at Primrose Cottage,” Cecilia answered. “Miss Hughes went with me..”

  “And did Mrs. Price strike you as a—clumsy person?” the inspector asked.

  Cecilia remembered Mrs. Price’s slim figure, the graceful gestures of her hands as she spoke, drawing everyone in. “Not really. She was quite elegant.”

  “Yet she had fallen before?”

  “You would have to ask her daughters or Miss Black about that,” Cecilia said. “She had hurt her ankle when I called once before.”

  “Oh, believe me, we will ask them the particulars. It seems Miss Black is ill at the moment, and Mrs. Winter quite overwrought.” Inspector Hennesy gave an impatient sigh. “I’m sure this will all turn out to be an old lady overimbibing and falling down some rickety stairs, a great waste of time. If she hadn’t made herself notorious, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Inspector,” Cecilia said.

  He scowled at her. “And why would you think that, Lady Cecilia?”

  “Some rather odd things have been happening around Primrose Cottage lately,” she answered. “There was an attempted break-in, for one thing, and Anne Price said her moth
er travels with valuable jewels. I myself noticed that her ruby ring was missing when her body was found, as was a torn piece of her suffrage sash. And Sergeant Dunn has been keeping an eye on a notorious criminal in the village.”

  “That’s true, sir,” Sergeant Dunn said. “Georgie Guff, you know. He was last collared near here for the Downing theft.”

  The inspector turned his fearsome scowl onto his sergeant. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  The sergeant flushed. “I’d forgotten about the broken window at the cottage. Sorry, sir. Mrs. Price said nothing was taken then. And I didn’t know about the ring.”

  “Mr. Talbot, who owns the antiques shop just down the lane from Primrose Cottage, thinks he saw a man walking away from there late at night with a sack,” Cecilia said. “But it was too dark for him to see who it was.”

  Inspector Hennesy turned his glare back to her. “Put Mr. Talbot on the list to question, then, Sergeant. Is there anything else we should know, Lady Cecilia? Any known enemies of Mrs. Price? Any masked villains lurking in the shrubbery around Primrose Cottage?”

  “I wouldn’t know about the shrubbery, Inspector, but of course Mrs. Price had enemies. She was a suffragette, after all. Lord Elphin, for one—his crowd was being a nuisance at the rally.”

  “Lord Elphin?” Inspector Hennesy asked, jotting down the name in his notebook.

  “Local landowner, sir,” Sergeant Dunn said.

  “He owns the estate just beyond that of the Byswaters,” Cecilia added. “He’s a bit of a curmudgeon, usually keeps to himself. But it seems women’s rights have quite aroused his ire.”

  The inspector looked as if he very much agreed with Lord Elphin. “Have they now?”

  “He, or maybe it was one of his men, shoved Mrs. Price outside the Guildhall after one of her rallies, and she nearly fell. He leads quite a group of ruffians.”