Authors: Eleanor Kuhns
“This is important,” Molly was saying to her son. “Remember what I told you.…” Richard made a small sound of protest, his gaze lighting upon the door. Molly whirled. “Come in, Mr. Rees.” she said, her tone neither gracious nor inviting. Rees stepped into view. Both Mother and son stared at him, both nervous although Molly’s trepidation was mixed with belligerence. Seen together, they looked nothing alike. Richard’s coloring was darker and his eyes were brown rather than blue.
And George Potter, his expression self-conscious, stood protectively behind them both.
“We’d like to speak to Richard alone, please,” Rees said, gesturing the constable forward.
“No,” she said. “With me and Mr. Potter or not at all.”
“With all due respect,” Rees said, bowing, “Richard is a man and no longer requires the shelter of his mother’s skirts.”
The fear and anger upon Molly’s face congealed into fury. She did not move. But Richard smiled.
“Please, Mama,” he said. “Mr. Rees is correct. I am a man and well able to fight my own battles. I would prefer it if you and Mr. Potter waited outside.”
Molly turned to glare at her son, her eyes full of resentment, and then she rose stiffly to her feet and stalked out. Her delicate muslin gown fluttered enticingly around her and Caldwell turned to watch her go. Rees was more interested in Potter. The lawyer scurried out without glancing at the other men.
Rees sat down in the chair across from Richard but he said nothing until Caldwell pulled up a chair beside him. “Do you believe Augustus guilty of your father’s murder?” Rees asked.
Richard’s lips began to tremble and he shook his head. “No. Augie wouldn’t hurt a fly. And he never came back home.”
“Never?” Caldwell asked, leaning forward.
Richard shook his head. “Not that I knew of. Especially when I was at school. I wasn’t here for Augie and he wouldn’t visit his mother. He’s been angry at her for years.”
“What did you argue with your father about?” Caldwell demanded.
Richard hesitated for several seconds. “I wasn’t the only one who fought with him,” he burst out at last. “Everybody did. The man wouldn’t see reason.”
Rees recalled Mr. Salley’s statement. “Did you hear him arguing with someone before you went into the cottage?”
Richard hesitated. He didn’t want to admit that he had and Rees wondered why. “Yes,” the lad said at last. “I heard raised voices as I came up the path. But nobody was inside. So I don’t know who it was.”
And that was a lie if Rees had ever heard one.
“Were there horses in the lay-by when you came through it?”
Richard hesitated. “Yes,” he said slowly.
“Describe them.”
“A chestnut.”
“Do you know who owns that horse?”
“Don’t know,” Richard said indifferently. And that might be the truth.
“Is this important?” Caldwell asked. “Do you know how many chestnuts there are in Dugard? Scores.”
“You didn’t see an old gray?” Rees fixed his gaze sternly upon the boy.
“No,” Richard said defiantly.
Another lie. Rees smiled; clearly Richard recognized Marsh’s mount. “Man or woman?” Rees asked. “Who argued with your father—man or woman?”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Man, of course.” Then he clamped his lips tightly together. Rees didn’t think he would get anything more about that from him, not at the moment anyway. But he could easily guess whom Richard overheard arguing with his father: Marsh.
“What did you and your father argue about?” Caldwell asked, directing a glare at Rees. “This time.”
“I want to get married,” Richard said. “He doesn’t like the girl. I don’t know why.”
Rees waited to see if Caldwell would speak. Did the constable even know about Elizabeth Carleton?
“Why not?” Caldwell asked.
“He said I’m too young. That’s a lie, of course. He was only a year or two older when he married my mother.” Richard shrugged. “So, we’ve been arguing for months.”
“You went into the cottage,” Rees said. “And you began arguing?”
Richard scowled. “Well, sort of. He was already angry, you see. He told me he couldn’t speak to me now. I … insisted. He said I couldn’t marry Elizabeth, and that was final.” He twisted his hands together and Rees noticed the bitten nails, right down to the quick.
“And then what?”
Richard wrung his hands. Although he kept his head lowered, Rees saw the tears filling his eyes. “I lost my temper. I picked up the scutching knife and I hit him and blood flew out of his head and he fell down.” Richard shuddered. “He was groaning. And I ran.”
“How many times did you hit him?” Caldwell asked.
“Once or twice.”
“What did you do then?” Rees asked. He was trying to reserve judgment, but this looked bad for the boy.
“He called out to me. I knelt beside him and I could see he was hurt. But when he looked up at me, his eyes opened and he spoke to me.”
“Did you put his head into your lap?” Rees asked.
Richard stared at him in surprise. “How did you know that?’
“What did you do then?”
“I ran home. I swear he was still alive when I left the cottage.” Richard looked up at Rees. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t kill him.”
“Did you see anyone as you were running away?” Rees asked.
Richard shook his head. “Only Mr. Salley, coming down from the barn.”
“If you’re not guilty,” Caldwell said in a cold voice, “why did you run?”
“You think I’m a murderer,” Richard said.
“Until you prove otherwise,” the constable said.
“Why didn’t you come to me, Richard?” Rees asked. “Your mother hired me to prove your innocence. I just wanted to ask a few questions.”
Richard looked at Rees in silence. When he finally spoke his voice was pitched so low, Rees could hardly hear it. “She thinks I’m guilty, Mr. Rees. She says she believes I’m innocent, but she doesn’t. Not really. I can see it in her eyes.”
Rees could not reassure the boy. Molly might believe Richard was guilty and still fight for him like a bear for her cub. That was a terrible weight to put on someone.
“Well, Mr. Carleton believes you are innocent,” Caldwell said.
Richard looked up. “He does?” He smiled, radiant with happiness. “I daresay I will be getting married, then.”
“And Augustus?” Rees asked sternly. “You aren’t going to let your brother assume your guilt, are you?”
“Of course not.” Richard’s gaze slid to the constable. “You know Augustus is innocent, don’t you?” Now that he’d told his tale, he sat relaxed and at his ease.
“He might be the man you heard arguing with your father,” Caldwell said. “But I admit, that doesn’t seem likely.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose we’ll have to continue looking.”
Rees looked at Richard. Since yesterday, when fear and panic had brought him to firing upon Rees, the boy had slept and bathed. He was now garbed in a fine coat and a white silk waistcoat. Silver buttons gleamed at the knees of his breeches. He looked a perfect young gentleman. “You know Kate is expecting your child,” Rees said.
“She says so,” Richard said indifferently. Rees did not look away, and under the weight of his disapproving regard, Richard blushed. “I never promised marriage,” he said. “I only wanted to have some fun. And she never said different.”
“When you are older and hopefully wiser,” Rees said, thinking that that mark must be many years in the future, “you’ll know that women look upon this ‘fun’ differently than we do. The price is much higher for them. And right now it looks as though you’re leaving Kate to pay it alone.”
“She’s only a nursemaid,” Richard said. He sounded like a sulky eight-year-old.
“He’s answered all of your questions,” Molly said, appearing at the door. “There is no more to be said.” She hurried to her son’s side.
Rees thought there was much more to be said. He would try to speak to the boy again, alone this time, without the constable, who was clearly James Carleton’s man, or Richard’s fiercely protective mother. “Very well,” he said, bowing. “Until Sunday, then.”
Molly nodded, her hand resting upon Richard’s shoulder.
“Definitely the favored child,” Caldwell said as they went into the hall.
“Indeed,” Rees agreed. “What do you think? Guilty or innocent?”
Caldwell smiled sourly. “Oh, guilty for certain. But he has powerful connections. And there’s enough doubt that he won’t hang.”
Rees shook his head. “What about the man arguing with Nate before Richard arrived?”
Caldwell looked at Rees sardonically. “If there was a man, which I doubt.”
“It could have been one of the card players,” Rees said.
“Don’t tell me you think the boy is innocent?” Caldwell looked at Rees in disbelief.
Rees did not speak. God help him, he thought Richard might be.
“I wouldn’t have thought you were so gullible.” Caldwell shook his head incredulously.
“Gullible? I don’t think so. I simply have too many questions. Yes, it looks bad for the boy, but guilty of murder? I am not convinced.”
“Huh. Are we going back to town now?”
“Not yet. I want to speak to someone.”
“Who? That beautiful Negress? Or that redheaded Shaker?” Caldwell spoke with a faint leer. Rees looked at him, ready to smack the constable down if he made another such remark. Caldwell saw his expression and said quickly, “I’ll wait by the wagon, then. Too many women down there, all chattering.” He slouched out the front door, leaving a faint lingering taint behind him.
Rees waited until the constable had passed through the front door before turning back toward Nate’s office. He paused in the doorway. “A word, please,” Rees said, not caring that he’d interrupted the conversation between Molly Bowditch and George Potter. “I wonder, do you recognize the name Cornelius Lattimore?”
Potter stared off into space, his forehead wrinkled. “No,” he said, “I don’t. But the name does sound vaguely familiar, as though I’ve heard it in the past. Why? What importance is he to you?” He still could not meet Rees’s eyes.
“None, that I know of,” Rees said, not altogether truthfully.
“I’ll ask my father,” Potter said. “He knows all of the lawyers hereabouts.”
“Thank you,” Rees said in a chilly voice. This time he did cross the front hall and walked to the back of the house toward the kitchen stairs. He planned to assure Rachel of Augustus’s safety, that was true, but his primary target was Lydia. Did she plan to return to town now or should Rees promise to send David after her?
Everyone looked up at him as he entered the kitchen, Lydia with some wariness. When he approached her, the glances directed at them told him that the women at least knew of the connection between them. “The constable is driving me back to Dugard,” he said. She did not speak, but her gaze shot to his wounded arm. “I believe I can make it home from there. Someone else will come for you.” He hoped she would understand he meant David.
“Thank you, Mr. Rees,” she said. But her effort to sound as though they were simply acquaintances failed; he knew that from the knowing smiles, even though no one looked at them directly. The cat was out of the bag, and he could now expect this juicy bit of gossip to make the rounds. As he left the kitchen by way of the outside door and climbed the hill, he wondered how he felt about it. He prodded his feelings and found to his surprise that he was not as unhappy as he’d expected. He didn’t like the prospect of serving as the center of this gossip, but he’d become comfortable with thinking of himself and Lydia as a couple.
Chapter Eighteen
Caldwell and Rees passed almost the entire distance into town in silence. Finally the constable spoke. “What do you intend to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve accomplished precisely what Mistress Molly asked of you: You’ve freed her son. Are you finished with your questions?”
Rees, whose thoughts were still focused upon Lydia, took a moment to switch back to Nate’s murder. “No. I’ve spoken to Richard, but he hasn’t been declared innocent, beyond a doubt. Do you imagine that because Richard’s connections may save him from hanging, he won’t spend the rest of his life under a cloud? You still think he’s guilty. Unless I name the murderer, many people will always believe he’s guilty. Not just him but Augustus, too. And he doesn’t have Richard’s social standing to protect him.”
“Maybe Richard should live under a cloud,” Caldwell said dryly. “He looks guilty to me.”
“I still have questions, “Rees repeated. He thought he might stop by the Contented Rooster for a little chat with Susannah, and see what else she knew about James Carleton and about his daughter Elizabeth.
Caldwell drove the wagon to the coffeehouse and helped Rees alight, but he declined to enter, preferring the rougher hospitality of the Bull. So Rees went in by himself, not displeased to question Jack and Susannah without the constable in attendance.
“What happened to you?” Susannah asked, pointing at his wounded arm. Rees glanced down at the bandage, visible under his linen shirt. The gash hurt and the scab pulled with motion, but he had successfully pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind.
“Richard Bowditch shot me. It’s nothing.”
“I daresay that’s why there’s blood on your sleeve,” Jack said, coming up behind his wife. Rees glanced at the stain. It was already dry.
“More questions?” Susannah asked.
“Yes. I hardly know what to ask first,” Rees said. Jack pulled out a chair for his wife and both of them sat down. “I spoke to Richard. He admitted to arguing with his father and striking him with the scutching knife.”
“But you don’t believe he’s guilty,” Susannah said softly, her eyes never leaving Rees’s face.
“It just doesn’t feel right,” Rees said. “Several people heard Nate arguing with someone else.” And if Dr. Wrothman did not have such a solid alibi, Rees would suspect he was the other man. “Richard might have interrupted him, whoever he is. He could have hidden upstairs and beaten Nate to death after Richard left. And of course, I am not certain of the identity of that man.” Although Rees, suspecting it was Marsh, added quickly, “And the mystery man might be innocent as well.”
“You’ve cast enough doubt on Richard’s guilt that he won’t hang,” Jack said. “Surely you need do nothing else.”