“I had questions to put to her regarding the murder of Nurse Radcliff,” he answered.
“She was clearly distraught about what happened to her aunt. I knew she should not have dealt with the police,” Mistress Richard huffed.
“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Lewis asked.
“None at all. She has never disappeared like this.”
“Cherry is missing from the stables,” Mr. Clooney interjected.
“Is that Matron’s horse?” Lewis asked.
“No, Cherry belongs to the orphanage.”
“But can Matron Westover ride?” Jasper’s question received a nod of the groundskeeper’s head. As the first train of the day from Twickenham station was not leaving for another thirty-five minutes, he presumed the matron had left the vicinity on horseback.
“Most of her clothes are gone,” Mistress Richards said, an edge of panic to her already tense tone. “I’m quite concerned for her.”
Matron Westover had run, no question. And Jasper was beginning to comprehend why.
“Mistress Richards, I need to see Martha Seabright’s file,” he said. “Her children were placed here in 1871.”
She scoffed at him. “I cannot share that with you. Recipients of the fund are guaranteed their privacy, no matter how far back the year may be.”
“Seabright?” Mr. Clooney said. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in an age.”
Unlike Mistress Richards’s fractious reaction to the Seabright name, the groundskeeper merely looked a bit wistful. It was unexpected, considering one of the children had killed his dog.
“I understand Gavin Seabright gave your dog too much sedative one night so he could sneak out and run away,” Jasper said.
Mr. Clooney grimaced and shrugged. “It were an accident. He were a troubled one, that young boy. Especially after what happened with his wee brother.”
Clearly, the groundskeeper didn’t hold the incident against Gavin.
“Felt right awful for what he done,” the man kept on. “Offered to work for me for the whole summer to make up for it. And he ended up staying on as my assistant of sorts until he left here.”
Sir Eamon had not imparted that detail. Had he, Jasper might not have worried so much about Gavin’s character and his visit to the morgue to see Leo.
“You recall Edward Seabright?” he asked the groundskeeper.
“Oh, aye. I remember every grave I’ve ever dug for a wee one.”
“Mr. Clooney,” Jasper began, “did you see the child after he had passed?”
“See him?” The groundskeeper crinkled his forehead. “No, no. I couldn’t ever bear it, looking at the dead little ones. No, he were already in his wee casket. I only lowered it into the grave.”
“Who then placed the child in the casket?” Jasper asked.
At this, Mistress Richards protested. “Inspector, your questions are quite perturbing. What is their purpose?”
“Forgive me, but last evening, Matron Westover became agitated when I asked about Martha Seabright and her infant son, Edward. Martha was shot and killed a few days ago in London, and my investigation since then has led to the story of Edward’s death. Without going into greater detail, I need to know if Matron Westover was ever a nurse here.”
Leo’s message—Westover is NCR—sat like a rock in his gut. It grew in size when Mistress Richards answered.
“She was. Many years ago. In fact, she was our first head nurse. Why?”
He closed his eyes. “And her name at that time?”
“Radcliff. Caroline Radcliff,” she answered.
