Murder at Locke Abbey (17 page)

“Papa, how could you!”

“How could I what? The girl knew something but was afraid that if she was seen talking to me, she could be in serious trouble. It seems her manager was the thief and she was afraid of losing her job, so she visited me in my dressing room. She was more than a little worried for her safety, she was petrified and she soon began crying. I comforted her as best I could, until your mother walked in on us.”

“What did she say?”

“Much like you, she thought the worst. We had only been married a year by then, and she was still wary of being hurt. I eventually convinced your mother to listen and asked the maid to repeat her story, which was enough to convince Mari of the truth.”

Thea was beginning to doubt herself but she still couldn’t see how she could have
misinterpreted what she heard.

“I also discovered your mother kissing another gentleman once, although I use the term very loosely. Had I allowed anger to get the better of me and simply left, I would have missed the fact that he was forcing his attentions upon her and she needed my help.”

“Somehow I doubt that Eliza was forcing herself on Cole,” Thea answered, rather rudely.

“You have assumed that you know what happened,” Copley said patiently. “What does your mother say about assumptions?”

“They lead to incorrect conclusions.” She had heard that line so often, she could recite it in her sleep.

“Exactly.”

“All right, fine, you win, Papa. I’ll talk to Cole and hear his side of events.”

“That’s all I ask,” he smiled, getting to his feet. As he passed her on his way out, he paused and pressed a kiss to
her forehead. “Remember, if he truly has been leading you on a merry dance, I can give him the same kind of thrashing I gave the gentleman with your mother. I understand he still walks with a limp in cold weather.”

Her father disliked violence as a general rule, so Thea
doubted he would hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary, but she appreciated the sentiment.

“Thank you.”

***

Thea had looked everywhere that she could think of for Cole but he wasn’t to be found. She might have become suspicious, had she not encountered Miss Eliza with her mother and aunt, walking through the gardens.

Admitting defeat, Thea headed down to the servants’ quarters in the basement and knocked on the housekeeper’s door.

“Come in.”

Thea disliked meeting new people, even servants, and would much rather have spoken to Mr Black had it been allowed.

T
he woman looked up from the ledger she was writing in. She was younger than Thea expected, perhaps in her late thirties, and with the most fetching red hair that Thea had ever seen, although most of it was concealed under a mob cap.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for Cole- I mean, Master Cole. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“I gather he received some bad news from the doctor this morning; perhaps he wants to be alone.”

“I know, I was there, but it’s quite important that I see him.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I can't help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Thea demanded.

“I don’t know where he is, Ma’am.”

Thea’s shoulders slumped. “Of course, I’m sorry. Today has been… rather trying, but I should not have snapped at you. If you should happen to see Cole, please tell him I’d like to speak with him.”

She turned to the door.

“I’ll be sure to tell Cutler and Betsy, who are enjoying a rare break together.”

Thea was good with names and she was certain they were the Nanny and Governess.

“Together, you say?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you for your help.” Thea headed straight to the school room and nursery.

***

Thea paused as she neared the school room, appreciating the sound of Cole’s voice as he read a fairy tale aloud, the Wild Swans, if she wasn’t mistaken.

She suspected he was reading to his half-sisters and a
s the story progressed, her suspicions were confirmed by their questions and small noises they would make as he read. He was an enthusiastic story teller, although she fancied that his voice, although more animated than she was used to, had an underlying sadness to it.

Realising that listening outside doors had caused her problems in the first place, she stepped
through the open doorway and rested with her back to the wall as she listened.

Cole sat
in a large Windsor chair, one girl sitting either side of him and his arms around them, despite the fact it made it difficult to read and turn the pages. His sisters bore little or no resemblance to Cole but they were both pretty, in the way all children were. They appeared to be perhaps four and six years old and were dressed in matching outfits.

As he turned a page, Cole looked up at her, although he appeared wary. She smiled, attempting to tell him that she hadn’t come to argue, and he smiled back. He looked haggard and seemed to have been crying.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she said softly when he didn’t resume the story.

The larger of the girls turned her head and whispered in Cole’s ear.

“She’s my friend,” Cole answered. “Her name is Lady Athena Copley but if she likes you, she might let you call her Thea.”

The younger child attempted to whisper
in his ear also, but she was not as practiced as her sister and Thea clearly heard her.

“Her dress is really pretty.”

He smiled. “Yes it is, but it’s a riding habit, not a dress.” He looked over to Thea. “May I present Miss Sylvia and Miss Marie, my sisters.” Sylvia was the elder child.

Thea bowed her head. “Very nice to meet you.”

“Do you want to hear our story too?” Marie asked.

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You aren’t,” Cole assured her.

“Do you know the Wild Swans?” Marie asked. “It’s about a princess and her brothers and a wicked witch who turns the boys into swans, but
Syl-va explains it better than me.”

“Thank you but I know the story well; my youngest sister is only
seven and she loves it.”

“Do you read it to her?” Sylvia asked.

“I do.”

“Would you like to read it to us?”

“I should like that very much, but there isn’t any more room in that chair for me and besides, I think today I would prefer to listen. I’ve never had Hans Christian Andersen read to me before.”

“I’ll fetch you a chair.” Cole placed the ribbon between the pages but Thea stopped him before he got up.

“I’m fine.” Approaching them, she sat down on the floor, making Marie giggle.

“Ladies don’t sit on floors, silly,” Marie explained.

“This lady does,” she answered.

Cole widened his legs slightly,
allowing her to sit between them, slightly turned to the side with her back resting against his left leg.

After the children made themselves comfortable again, Cole began reading, and Thea found herself transported to her nursery, where she and her sisters
had grown up. Rather than the slightly austere and barren school rooms most children had, she assumed to stop the children becoming distracted, their school room had been comfortable, warm and welcoming.

Three walls had been papered in pretty paper, the fo
urth had been covered in sheets of cork, so good work could be proudly pinned up and displayed. As well as tables and chairs to work at, there were comfortable armchairs and cushions where the children could sit to read. The floors were also covered in rugs, albeit old ones that were well past their best and so would not be too badly damaged by a fallen inkwell or dropped quill.

There were always flowers in there as well, which could be used for nature lessons or drawing but mostly, were just there to cheer
up the room.

Lessons were not confined to the school room either, with regular trips into the gardens, especially on nice days, where they would sit on the chairs and tables to study things such as maths, or roam the gardens in search of plants. As they got older, their mother opened her laboratory to them, s
howing them how to use a microscope and perform experiments.

Lea
rning had been a joy which was why as an adult, she still liked returning to the school room to visit her siblings and help them with their studies.

W
ithout conscious thought, she moved slightly, looping her arm around Cole’s leg and resting her cheek against his knee. Her hand rose to clasp Marie’s small one, her thumb stroking across the back of the child’s soft hand.

In recent years, she had begun to doubt whether she would ever have her own family and mostly, she thought that she would be happy
whatever happened. Right now though, she could almost believe that these were her children; she was
just
old enough to have a six year old child, and she had never wanted a family more than she did at that moment.

The light click of claws on the floor drew her gaze to the doorwa
y, to see that Ann had escaped from Mrs Cole again and had discovered her whereabouts. The little dog came over to them, turned around twice, then settled next to her, pressed against her thigh.

Content, Thea
closed her eyes and allowed Cole’s voice to transport her to magical, mystical places.

***

Cole was quite taken by the change in Thea. She had been hesitant when she arrived but not distant, as she had been this morning. The jacket of her habit also had half a dozen buttons undone at the neck and collar which was unusual, even for Thea.

Her hesitancy had gradually dissipated as she talked with his sisters and he found himself quite charmed as
she leaned against his leg, and then a good deal more than charmed when she wrapped her arm around his calf and rested her head against his knee. The scene was perfected by her taking young Maria’s hand and he was unable not to picture a similar scene, only with their own children.

It seemed wrong that he should feel happiness and hope while his father lay dying but at the same time, there was a natural sort of symmetry to it; as his last parent neared death, he was starting a family of his own. At least, he hoped he was.

The story ended far too soon and he wondered if he might have time for another story. His youngest sister had clearly sat still for too long however, and Maria squirmed from his lap, intent on getting to know their visitor better.

Sylvia seemed to know that something was wrong however.

“Is it Daddy?” she asked quietly.

Cole glanced over to Marie but she was too busy entertaining
Thea to overhear.

“His illness is bad today,” he admitted.

Sylvia nodded. Despite her tender age, she sometimes seemed to have an insight that was far older than her years.

“Can I see him?”

“I don’t think so, the doctor gave him something for his pain and he is sleeping.”

“He
will probably only yell anyway, and tell me to get back to Mrs Cutler.”

Maybe it was better that he was asleep when they sa
w him. “I’ll see if he is up to visitors and if so, take you after your lessons, then he’ll have no reason to shout.”

“Thank you.”

“And try to remember, it’s not you,” he tried to reassure her. “He’s in pain and pain makes even the best of us bad tempered. Try to think of him as he was last winter, when he ventured into the gardens with us and helped build a snowman.”

“He kept saying it was out of proportion.”

“Then the spring, when we walked into town.”

“He kept telling Marie that she was too slow.”

“He has never exactly been a warm man,” he admitted. “He does care for you, he just sometimes has trouble showing it.”

Sylvia wrapped her arms around his waist and
pressed her head to his chest. “When father dies, you won’t send us away, will you?”

Cole squeezed her tightly. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Mamma said you would, she said you don’t like her and that if you sent her away, she would make sure we came too.”

“Awful witch,” Cole muttered
, wondering what kind of parent said such cruel things to their child. “If your mother is sent away, it will only be to the Dower house, not a mile away from here, and you won’t have to go with her, you can stay here with me if you want.”

“But she is our mother.”

“And I will be head of this family. If she wants my financial support, and I am certain that she does, then she will abide by my conditions.”

“Thank you, Cole.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, just as the heavy footfalls of the governess returning signalled an end to their time together.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Sylvia asked, climbing down from his lap.

“Don’t I come every morning?”