A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(103)

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“And will that person also have motive for wanting Kennan and Mairi MacCowan dead?”

Gage had no answer to that. “We need to question her.”

I agreed. “But not here. At her uncle’s cottage. Let’s make her walk through the rooms and see how she reacts.”

“But first . . .” He turned me to face him, resting his hands on my shoulders. “You need to rest.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “We can’t leave her to wander free . . .”

“Oh, we’re not,” he replied with a humorless chuckle. “Leave it to me and Anderley to isolate her and prevent her from causing any further trouble.”

“And Bree . . .”

“I’ll enlist your aunt or cousin to watch over her. And I’ll even make Miss Ferguson taste any of the food bound for Bree’s room if that will make you feel better.”

I looked up into his patient gaze and realized I wasn’t demonstrating a great deal of that trust I’d promised to show in him. He and Anderley knew full well what was at stake, and Henry and my family could be relied upon to help them.

I exhaled wearily. “That might be taking it a tad far.” After all, the poison couldn’t be hidden in just anything. “But order the kitchen staff to throw out the chutney and anything red or pink that the paternoster peas might be hidden in.”

“I will.”

I bowed my head forward, resting it against his chest. “Very well,” I conceded gracelessly, though given half a chance, I think I might have been able to fall asleep standing right there.

“Good. Now,” he declared, setting me away from him. “Lie down before you fall down. I’ll bring Emma to you, and when she’s done, I’ll whisk her away so you never need rise.”

I offered him a weak smile. “Be careful. I might grow accustomed to such service.”

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. “You could have had such service from the day of her birth. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me.” He dropped a kiss to my lips and then left to do all he’d promised.





Chapter 28




Gage was right. Just a few hours’ sleep had made all the difference in the world. And it had turned out I’d missed even less than I’d feared.

Gage had confined Miss Ferguson to her bedchamber after questioning her about her rosary and her movements the afternoon before, and she had been singularly uncooperative. In the interim, Rye’s children were left in the care of the nurserymaids and their cousin’s governess. I wished I could have been the one to explain to Rye our suspicions about his governess, but Gage said my cousin had taken the news fairly well, all things considered. It had helped that Charlotte was with him, so while Rye had been evidently shocked and distressed, and concerned about his potentially poor judgment in hiring her, he’d not faced those emotions alone.

Meanwhile belowstairs, with the help of several of the kitchen maids, Anderley had scoured the kitchen, pantry, scullery, and cellars for any evidence of the poison or further tampering with the food. After all, the paternoster peas had to be ground up somewhere. But their search proved unsuccessful. Though, for the sake of safety and thoroughness, they had gotten rid of all the red food already prepared.

Bree continued to recover and regain her strength, even bathing and eating a bowl of beef broth. I visited her in her room before setting out for Mr. MacCowan’s cottage, relieved to see a bit of color return to her cheeks and her bright intelligence glinting in her eyes. Let it suffice to say, I did not leave her room dry-eyed or without some reluctance. However, I knew she was in excellent hands, for Anderley was staying with her, along with Lady Bearsden, who held a soft spot for the pair. I didn’t hold much faith in her ladyship’s abilities as a chaperone should our maid and valet need such a deterrent, but her presence was meant as more of a deterrent to gossip about them anyway, ridiculous though that might be.

The leaden skies of the morning had not abated, and by the time we reached the glade where Mr. MacCowan’s cottage was located, the shadows had already lengthened. A cool wind blew in from the sea, rattling the leaves in the trees overhead and sending them scuttling across the path before us. We had elected to walk, with Miss Ferguson leading the way next to Henry, while Gage and I followed.

If Miss Ferguson’s attitude could be summed up in one word, it would be defiant. A stance I could understand if she was afraid she was about to be caught for the crimes she’d committed. But if she was innocent, her surly, uncooperative manner merely made her seem guiltier.

However, as we entered the clearing, her angry strides shortened and then stopped before the door. We allowed her a moment to gather herself, and then Gage prodded her to move forward. “Go on, then.” She jerked forward as if pulled by strings and slowly opened the door. I crumpled the handkerchief clutched in my hand, having it at the ready in case the stench that had permeated the building the day before had not been completely cleaned away.

I needn’t have worried. The only scents to assail my nostrils were the harsh fumes of whatever cleaning agents the maids had used. We moved into the main room, and I noted the pantry cupboard doors gaped wide, showing they’d been emptied of all their foodstuffs. The door to the bedchamber had also been left open, though the floor where Mr. MacCowan had collapsed between the two rooms was scrubbed clean of any trace of blood, leaving a paler patch of stone than that around it.