The Anatomist's Wife (9 page)

He tapped his finger against the wooden arm of his cream-upholstered Hepplewhite chair.
“Mr. Tuthill, Lady Lydia,” he said, nodding at each of them. “You were the first to . . .
stumble across Lady Godwin, correct?”

Lady Lydia nodded, casting her eyes downward demurely and pouting her lips in a manner
so pretty I was quite certain she had practiced it to perfection.

“That is correct,” Mr. Tuthill replied, setting his own teacup aside. He tugged down
on his hunter-green waistcoat nervously and stole a glance at Lady Lydia.

“Can you describe what happened?” Gage prompted, addressing Mr. Tuthill man-to-man.

Mr. Tuthill and Lady Lydia shared a quick look before he formulated a reply. “Well,
we were strolling through the maze, trying to find our way to the center. And . . .
well . . . we passed the alcove, and there she was.”

I wondered whether there was something he was leaving out between the “and” and “well.”
Something like a kiss. It would explain the man’s nerves, as well as the harmless
impression I received from them.

“It was horrid!” Lady Lydia cried, really setting her curls to bouncing. “
I’ve
never
seen
something so ghastly in
all
my life!” Her already wide eyes rounded even more as they turned to me, having realized
belatedly the implication that could be made from her statement.

I ignored the girl’s distress, knowing it would only make matters worse to address
it, and turned to Gage, waiting for him to lead them on with another question. His
gaze met mine briefly, and I thought I saw amusement shining in their depths. Whether
that humor was at Lady Lydia, me, or the entire situation, I could not be sure.

“Did you see anyone else?” he asked Mr. Tuthill. “Did you notice anyone entering the
maze before you?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you hear any suspicious noises?”

Mr. Tuthill’s eyes lifted toward the ceiling in thought before returning to Gage.
“No, sir. I don’t believe so.”

“What of you, Lady Lydia? Did you hear or see anything?”

She shook her head, and the curls bounced.

Gage frowned, tapping his lip with an index finger. “So when you saw Lady Godwin and
the state she was in, you screamed?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Bounce. Bounce.

“And I believe I shouted,” Mr. Tuthill added.

Gage flicked a glance at him before returning his focus to Lady Lydia. “And you kept
screaming?”

Nod. Bounce. Bounce.

“Even after Lady Darby arrived?”

“It was just such a frightening sight,” she exclaimed, pressing her hand to her heart.
“You’re ever so brave for investigating such a gruesome matter,” she added breathlessly.
Bounce.

“Yes, well.” Gage seemed unimpressed by her adoration. “Mr. Tuthill acquitted himself
quite admirably, catching you when you swooned and carrying you back to the castle.”
He nodded at the baron’s second son, whose chest seemed to expand with pride.

“Oh, yes,” Lady Lydia agreed, turning toward Mr. Tuthill. “He did, indeed.”

Gage shared another humored look with me while the two young lovers stared into each
other’s eyes.

“How long would you say it was until Lady Darby arrived?”

Mr. Tuthill blinked, re-collecting himself. “Only the matter of a few seconds.”

Gage’s attention swung to me, to play out this last little part of our charade. “Did
you see Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill enter the maze?”

“No. And I saw no one else enter before or after me.”

He nodded. “Do you know the maze well?”

“I do,” I replied, feeling the other witnesses’ eyes on me. I suddenly had the horrible
urge to giggle, and had to fight to suppress it. Gage did not help matters with his
eyes twinkling at me. “I can walk straight to the center without a wrong turn. I imagine
if Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill made enough errors trying to find the correct path . . .”
or stopped to kiss often enough 
“
.
 . . I could have easily caught up with them.”

Gage and I turned to look at them.

Mr. Tuthill cleared his throat. “We did, indeed, take several wrong turns.”

Lady Lydia’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“How long did it take until others arrived?” Gage queried.

I glanced at Mr. Tuthill. “But a few minutes?” He nodded in agreement. “We could hear
their shouts and curses as they tried to find us in the maze.”

Lady Lydia blushed brighter. “I passed out before then.”

Gage tapped a finger on the chair arm again as he thought. “Did you notice if anyone
acted strangely or suspiciously?”

I furrowed my brow, trying to remember, but all I could recall was that I’d looked
away from their faces. I’d been too worried about my own presence being noticed to
pay much attention to anyone else. “I don’t know,” I replied haltingly. “I don’t really
remember.”

Mr. Tuthill shook his head. “My attention was focused on Lady Lydia.”

Gage nodded, watching me closely. “Are you aware of anything else I should know?”
he continued, focusing on Mr. Tuthill and Lady Lydia again. “Connections Lady Godwin
had with the other guests? Disputes she may have had with anyone?”

Mr. Tuthill flushed faintly, and his gaze flicked to Lady Lydia. I suspected he had
caught the meaning of “connections” Gage intended. “Er . . . I will think on it and
get back to you,” he replied. Talk of extramarital affairs was not polite conversation
for young, unwed women.

“I know Lord Godwin is out of the country,” Lady Lydia chimed in. “And Lady Stratford
and she were close friends.”

Gage’s eyes flared slightly at this tidbit of knowledge. “Then she would be a good
person with whom to speak. Thank you, Lady Lydia.”

She beamed. And her curls bounced.

“Well,” Mr. Tuthill proclaimed, rising to his feet. “If there is nothing more?” Apparently,
he’d taken all the fawning over Gage he could handle.

Gage stood with him. “That’s all for now. Should you think of anything else, please
let me know.”

“We will.” Mr. Tuthill shook his hand and then offered Lady Lydia his arm.

She allowed him to escort her from the room, even though she was gazing over her shoulder
at Gage until they vanished from sight.

“When would you like to interview Lady Stratford?” I asked, avoiding his gaze while
I smoothed down the skirts of my dress as I rose.

“Hold on. Before we come to that.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Do you
truly not remember how the others reacted to Lady Godwin’s murder?”

“I . . . I looked away from their faces,” I admitted.

He seemed stunned.

“Well, I didn’t know I was going to be assisting in an investigation into the matter,”
I replied crossly. “I was shocked. I . . . I may have seen corpses, but I’d never
seen someone who was so obviously
murdered
.” I worried my hands together and risked another glance at his face.

“Of course,” Gage replied consolingly. He reached out to touch my arm, and I let him,
needing the contact of another person.

I swallowed. “So before or after luncheon?” I asked, harking back to my question about
Lady Stratford and hoping he wouldn’t try to discourage me from joining him.

“After. I have some things I need to do first.”

I nodded.

His arm fell to his side as he stepped away, and I felt the loss of his touch more
acutely than I expected.

“Until then,” he said, a faint frown marring his brow, and then quit the room.

I reached up to cradle the spot where the warmth from his hand still lingered on my
gray walking dress. My skin underneath seemed to tingle a bit, and I closed my eyes
to better appreciate it.

When I realized what I was doing, I jerked my hand from my arm and opened my eyes.
What ridiculousness! I glanced at the settee where Lady Lydia had sat, and shook my
head. I was not some silly girl with romantic notions in her head. I didn’t want to
be.

And with that firm reminder, I escaped to the familiar solitude of my art studio.

CHAPTER TEN

S
everal hours in my studio did much to soothe my tattered nerves worn raw by the events
of the last sixteen hours. The familiar roughness of the charcoal in my hand as I
sketched the outline of a new portrait comforted me. Its musk of earth and ashes permeated
the air, clearing away the lingering memory of blood and death. I lost myself in the
sweep of lines, forgetting place and time.

That is, until Mr. Gage’s summons recalled me to it. I sighed at the sight of his
message delivered by one of the maids, suddenly reluctant to return to the uncertainty
of the investigation. It was easier, safer, to remain immersed in my art. But I had
promised Alana I would find answers, and as I returned to reality, my own natural
curiosity reasserted itself.

So I consumed several cold bites of the soup of summer squash, which the servants
had brought me for luncheon probably hours before, and set out to find Mr. Gage.

I found him pacing before the fireplace in the sunny family parlor where we had interviewed
Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill. His hands were clasped behind his back and his head bowed
as if deep in thought. I hesitated to make myself known, taking a moment to observe
his unguarded expression and the deep lines of frustration crisscrossing his brow.
He seemed in that moment like a caged animal circling his enclosure.

He glanced up as he pivoted and, upon catching sight of me, wiped his face clear of
all emotion. “Ah! There you are,” he declared, moving toward me. He did not sound
irritated, but impatient. He was not pleased to have been kept waiting. “Where did
you disappear to?”

I was tempted to point out that he had not divulged the destination of
his
urgent business, but I suspected he intended to be vague about his plans earlier
and would only smile enigmatically and change subjects. Perversely, it made me want
to be just as mysterious. “Does it matter?” I challenged. “I’m here now. Are you ready
to interview Lady Stratford?”

He smiled as if amused by my display of defiance. “It doesn’t matter. Though why you
are so reluctant to admit you were in your art studio baffles me.” He reached out
to swipe a finger gently across my cheek, bringing it away smudged with charcoal.

Feeling heat steal into my cheeks, I scowled and wiped my palm across my face to remove
any lingering traces of the powder.

“Here, allow me.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and grasped my jaw between
his thumb and forefinger.

I jerked back from his touch. “That’s not necessary.” I held my hand out for the square
white cloth.

His smile widened, but he relinquished his hold on the handkerchief. I fought a blush
as I studied my visage in the mirror hanging on the wall behind the door and carefully
removed all traces of my art supplies, including a smudge of yellow paint from the
side of my left palm. I wasn’t certain why I felt so embarrassed by my rumpled appearance.
It had never much mattered to me before, but I did know that I did not like the cheeky
grin stretching across Gage’s face as he stood over my shoulder watching me. I handed
the cloth back to him with a curt thank-you, even though I felt more like tossing
it in his face. He nodded, folded the square, and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Now,” I pronounced, crossing my arms over my chest. “Lady Stratford?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. We shall be speaking with her in her chambers.” I followed
him toward the door. “I took the liberty of sending her a note requesting an audience.”
He chuckled. “The countess is quite a proper bit of muslin. I knew she wouldn’t be
able to rudely dismiss such a formal request.”

I frowned in confusion. “Would she have refused to be interviewed?”

“Only as a matter of principle.” His eyes twinkled. “You should know that Lady Stratford
does not like me very much.”

“Well then, that’s something we have in common,” I replied tartly.

He did not seem hurt by my comment. “Come now. I know that can’t be true. You like
me well enough,” he said with patronizing certainty.

I arched an eyebrow but decided not to contradict the infuriating man. “Is she waiting
for us now?”

He smiled knowingly, which almost convinced me that an argument would not be such
a waste of time. “Yes. And I’ll be blaming you for making us late.”

“That’s fine. I doubt she cares much for my company, either. This shall make for an
interesting conversation,” I remarked dryly. I glanced up at him out of the corner
of my eye. “Why
are
you allowing me to accompany you? I half expected you to visit Lady Stratford by
yourself and inform me of it later.”

“Well,” he hedged. “As I said, she is quite staid and proper. I wasn’t certain she
would see me alone. I thought the company of a female might help smooth things along.”
He cleared his throat as we turned a corner. “By the way, she’s not actually aware
that
you
will be the female accompanying me.”

I turned to look up at him.

“I may have led her to believe your sister would be the one joining us.”

I sighed. It was no wonder Lady Stratford didn’t like the man. I wondered if she would
turn us away when she discovered he had duped her by bringing me instead.

“Don’t worry,” he told me confidently. “I have it all figured out.”

I doubted that, but I was willing to play along. The nasty comments Lady Stratford
was sure to make about me would not be pleasurable, but I thought I might enjoy watching
Gage have the door slammed in his face. When she turned us away, I would send Alana
to speak with her, armed with all the questions I had for the countess. In the end,
I would find a way to get the information I wanted.

Lady Stratford and her husband had been placed in a suite of rooms near the end of
the southeast hall block. As we passed by, I realized that Lady Godwin’s assigned
chamber had only been several doors away. I wondered if my sister had placed them
in such proximity because she was aware of their friendship, or if it had been merely
a happy coincidence.

The Stratfords’ suite was one of the best and largest in the castle. Each room was
decorated in sumptuous shades of chocolate and pale sky blue, with gold and buttercup
yellow. Most of the furniture was heavily ornamented in a rococo style, although Alana
had softened the heavy gilding by simplifying the cloth and wall patterns to solids
and wide, uncomplicated prints. The his and hers bedchambers were connected by two
dressing rooms and a comfortable parlor.

It was at the door of this parlor that Gage paused and knocked. Lady Stratford’s maid
showed us in before disappearing through the dressing room to collect her mistress.

When the countess appeared, it was clear that the maid had already informed her of
my presence. Her eyes immediately narrowed on me. The soft gray of her irises had
hardened to chips of ice. “Mr. Gage,” she bit out in clipped tones. “If I might have
a word with you.”

I stepped away from the grouping of furnishings at the center of the room and moved
to stare out a window on the opposite side of the chamber at the garden below. The
wind rippled the leaves on the trees just as the chill in Lady Stratford’s voice ruffled
my nerves. I hated being confronted with others’ disgust and prejudice over something
they knew nothing about. It angered me and made me feel small and helpless. I bit
my lip to withhold all the words burning inside of me, as I always did, and strained
to hear Gage and Lady Stratford’s conversation.

“What is she doing here?” Lady Stratford hissed.

“Her sister was detained and asked her to accompany me,” Gage replied in conciliatory
tones.

“I realize that Lady Cromarty believes her sister innocent as a baby lamb, a testament
to her loyalty, I’m sure.” The countess didn’t sound as though she placed much value
in familial devotion. “But the fact remains that most of society believes her unnatural.
Is she not your prime suspect?”

“Haven’t you ever heard the old adage ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’?”
he whispered.

I tensed, wondering just how much of this conversation was truth and how much fiction.
Did Gage view me as the enemy?

It irritated me to live with this doubt, especially in the face of the upheaval already
caused by Lady Godwin’s murder. Did I not already have enough to worry about without
suspicion and betrayal being thrown into the mix?

I did not hear Lady Stratford’s response, but she must have given her consent, for
Gage called me over. He smiled at me as we settled into our seats, but I could not
force myself to smile back. Not in the face of his duplicity and Lady Stratford’s
naked displeasure.

It was remarkable how much a disagreeable expression could sour beauty. Lady Stratford
often reminded me of a china shepherdess, with her pale blonde hair, porcelain skin,
and slight figure. She was both the picture of hearty country living and fragile womanhood.
But a year younger than my sister, Lady Stratford had caused quite a stir the year
of her debut. It was rumored that every eligible nobleman had vied for her hand, from
dukes to second sons. The ton had delighted in her marriage to the roguish and elusive
Earl of Stratford, happy to see a gentleman who had fought the bonds of matrimony
for so many years finally caught in its net. She was certainly a diamond of the first
water. However, at that moment, with her lips pursed and her eyes hard, she looked
anything but lovely and soft.

“How may I help you?” she finally asked Gage, folding her hands over the lavender
skirts of her gown. I had not failed to notice she was also wearing half-mourning
colors.

“It has come to my attention that you were a good friend of Lady Godwin,” he began
gently. His gaze dipped to take in her dress, letting me know he had not missed the
significance of the color, either. “I wondered if you might answer a few questions
for me. To aid in my investigation.”

Lady Stratford lowered her eyes for a second. I watched her reaction carefully, perplexed
by the nervous fidgeting of her hands. She stilled them when she caught me observing
her and turned back to Gage. “I will hear your questions, though I cannot promise
I will know the answers,” she replied.

He studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Of course.” He settled deeper into the
chocolate and gold bergère chair. “First, I’ve been led to believe that Lord Stratford
is currently in India?”

She nodded carefully. “That is correct.”

“Do you know how long ago he left England?”

She tilted her head in thought. “It was just after the first of the year. I remember
I was surprised he would undertake such a journey in the midst of winter. So . . .
seven, almost eight months ago now, perhaps.”

We were interrupted by the arrival of the tea tray, and Gage shared a glance with
me while the maid settled the dishes. If Lord Godwin had departed England almost eight
months ago, then Lady Godwin’s baby had most certainly not been her husband’s.

Lady Stratford poured the tea, politely asking how we liked ours prepared. Then she
dispensed hers from a separate, smaller pot included with our tea service that I had
been puzzling over. “It’s made with red raspberry leaf,” she explained when I caught
her eye. “For my health.” Her eyes cast down again and a pale pink blush suffused
her complexion.

“Did Lady Godwin consider accompanying her husband to India?” Gage asked, jumping
right back into the conversation where we left off.

“No. At least, I don’t believe so. And never did either of them act as if she would.
From the very moment Lord Godwin mentioned he would be making such a trip, it was
presented as if he would go alone.”

“How long did he plan to be gone?”

She took a dainty sip of her tea. “I can’t say. Though . . .” She tilted her head
to the side in a manner I was coming to realize meant she was thinking. “Helena had
mentioned something about his returning before summer’s end. But that was months ago.
His plans may have changed.”

Gage set his cup aside.

“More tea?” she asked.

“Uh, no, thank you.”

His brow furrowed, and I realized he was trying to formulate his next question delicately.
However, Lady Stratford perhaps did not understand this, and chose to view his expression
in a more anxious light. She took another hasty sip of tea and began to fiddle with
the gem dangling from her necklace. It sparkled a deep red, almost maroon—probably
a garnet.

“My lady, do you know of anyone who might have wished Lady Godwin harm?”

Lady Stratford stiffened. “Wish her harm?” she asked vaguely.

“Yes. Someone she competed against or feuded with? Someone who did not like her?”
Gage elaborated.

She set her tea on the table in front of her carefully and cleared her throat. “Clearly,
neither of you knew Lady Godwin beyond a passing acquaintance. Because if you did,
you would realize she was not the easiest person to get along with.” Lady Stratford’s
eyes flicked to me. “Particularly for other women.” She licked her lips and sat back,
still rolling the jewel between her fingers. “She was vain and calculating and duplicitous,
and prone to make cutting remarks.” Her face had hardened in anger as she recited
these not-so-positive traits about her companion.

“Pardon me,” I said, speaking up for the first time since we entered the room. “But
if Lady Godwin was so difficult, then why were you such close friends?”

Lady Stratford smiled wearily, as if I’d just asked a very naive question. “Because
it was easier to be her friend than not. Because
she
wanted to be close to
me
.”

I studied her features now that the scowl had faded. “Because you’re beautiful?”

Her smile turned more genuine, though tinged with a somewhat bitter amusement. “Yes.
That was part of it.”

From the first, I had seen how someone as concerned with her good looks as Lady Godwin
would not want to be outshone by a beauty like Lady Stratford. It was much more pleasant
to pretend that you shared the attention and admiration.