A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(73)
“And that’s the last time you saw her?”
She nodded.
Gage’s fingers tapped against the side of his leg before he realized what he was doing and stilled them. “I don’t know precisely how to ask this, so bear with me, but . . . could Mairi have overheard or discovered something in another manner?” His jaw hardened in aggravation at himself for his clumsy wording. “Could she have known something that might have gotten her killed?”
The icy expression returned to Miss Campbell’s face. “I presume you’re asking if she discovered . . .” she pronounced the word witheringly “. . . that something while she was here at Poltalloch. Something from us?”
“Or from her father. Or during one of her trips to and from Barbreck,” Gage added, though we all knew Miss Campbell’s interpretation was what he truly meant.
“No, Mr. Gage,” she bit out. “We have no secrets here.” Her gaze darted to me and then back. “None that we ever intended to keep, in any case.”
“Why are you spendin’ so much o’ your time here?” Miss Margaret interjected. “Didna Mairi die at Barbreck? Isna that where she was poisoned?”
“Except the poison was ingested,” I explained, realizing she had not been privy to our previous conversations. “And she ate nothing at Barbreck. She shared dinner with her father at his cottage, but she appeared to have already been showing signs of illness before that. Which makes us think the poison was slow to take effect. That she must have consumed it earlier in the day with something she ate.”
“Then you believe whoever dosed her wi’ it intended for it to take effect while she was at Barbreck?” Miss Campbell’s face registered her doubt.
“Perhaps,” I conceded. “If they were familiar enough with the effects of the poison to predict its course and the moment of its lethality.” Such a thought caused a slight trembling inside me.
“Then if that’s the case, maybe whoever they are, they intended to throw suspicion on us. For why would we send her to die in a place that was certain to raise questions aboot our involvement?”
Except Miss Margaret had sent Mairi to the long gallery, apparently without her sister’s knowledge. So if Miss Campbell had poisoned her, she would not have anticipated her dying in such a place, only that she would be far from Poltalloch when the poison took effect.
But I didn’t say this aloud, instead conceding her point with a dip of my head. At the least, it was something to consider. Had someone wished to point the blame at the Campbell sisters? And if so, who and why?
“May I take a look at your library?” I asked, knowing the question was somewhat abrupt, but I hoped that might work in my favor.
However, Miss Campbell was much too sharp. “So ye can search it for books on poisons?” she countered with arched eyebrows.
I sat still, willing the flush that was crawling its way up my neck into my face to stop. I refused to feel guilty for pursuing the information I must for the sake of our investigation, for justice for Mairi.
“I can already tell ye we do, for household purposes.” She pushed to her feet. “Come wi’ me. I’ll show you.”
With a glance at Gage, I rose to follow her from the room. After all, this was what we’d hoped for—the chance for one of us to speak to Miss Margaret without Miss Campbell’s hovering presence. I left it to him to proceed with that and applied myself to keeping Miss Campbell distracted as long as possible. Even if it meant discussing my mother.
She guided me down the hall to a chamber near the stairwell. Though smaller than many noblemen’s libraries, it was plainly well-used. The bookcases standing against every available piece of wall space were packed cheek by jowl with books—upright, on their sides, and even slanted sideways when that was the only available slot. One panel of smaller tomes was shelved two deep. The books were also well-loved—the leather dented and worn smooth with handling, and some of the spines were even cracked. A short stack of recently read books sat on the table between two worn chairs which had been positioned to best capture the light filtering through the windows above and behind and the hearth before. I could just picture the two Campbell sisters seated here side by side.
Miss Campbell pivoted to gesture toward a shelf in the middle of the wall near the door, her stature combative. “These three books are all we have.”
I stepped closer to peruse the titles indicated. “Well, that’s one more than Barbreck’s library can claim,” I told her with a sigh, having sent Bree to locate them the evening before. One of these was a duplicate, but the other two were different. “Would you mind if I borrowed them for a time?”
Miss Campbell glared at me as if she couldn’t decide precisely how to react—outraged or bemused. It was a look I was accustomed to seeing.
“Until we know what killed Mairi, I’m afraid our inquiry into her death is rather at a standstill. And while there are a number of ways the murderer might have learned of the poison—after all, recipes and knowledge are often passed down by word of mouth from mother to daughter or cook to maid—unless someone comes forward who recognizes the symptoms, I’m afraid the only way I know of to uncover it is by studying these books.”
Her posture had softened during this speech, perhaps recognizing I was simply after the truth. If the poison was found in one of the books shelved here, then yes, that would mean it was possible the Campbell sisters were aware of it, but others might be as well. Just as it was possible, even if the poison was not contained in these botanical and household management volumes, that they might have learned about it from another source.