“If Laetitia thought it was Crispin’s baby…” I ventured, and Constance made a face.
“I don’t think she would have tried to kill Miss Fletcher, Pippa. She didn’t appreciate being a suspect in Johanna’s murder at all. Although she might have decided to add some pennyroyal to Miss Fletcher’s drink just to see what would happen. She’s not the most empathetic person in the world.”
No, she certainly wasn’t. On the other hand, Crispin had made it clear that the baby hadn’t been his, and all she’d have had to do was ask him. Surely she would have checked with him first, before she started poisoning people? And if she had done, then she wouldn’t have had any reason to go after Cecily.
“What about Geoffrey?” I asked, and watched Constance grimace again.
“He’s not the most empathetic, either. And he’s not at all interested in being tied down.”
No, I imagined he wasn’t. “Would he have done something about it?”
“Again,” Constance said, “I don’t think he would have killed her. He’s self-absorbed, but not deliberately cruel.”
“Stupid, though.”
“Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier,” Constance admitted, “but he knows that, believe it or not. And he had to deal with the murder investigation at the Dower House, too. I don’t think he would have wanted to risk it.”
“So what you’re saying is that he might also have given her something to get rid of the baby, to get himself out of a sticky situation in which he might be expected to step up and do the right thing, but he wouldn’t have committed murder.”
Constance shook her head. “Not in my opinion.”
I nodded. I shared her opinion, as it happened. Geoffrey was stupid, and sneaking pennyroyal into someone’s tea to try to induce an accidental-looking miscarriage seemed like it was more cunning than he would be capable of. “This is all moot. Living down the road from where pennyroyal grows is one thing. It doesn’t mean that he has ever had anything to do with Cecily Fletcher.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has done,” Constance said. “He’s made his way through a lot of the young ladies of the Bright Young set. Although you’re right, I know nothing about Miss Fletcher specifically.”
“One of the other girls, perhaps?” Aunt Roz suggested. “Miss Fletcher’s friend, trying to fix a problem Miss Fletcher couldn’t bring herself to fix on her own? Or another girl after the man whose child Miss Fletcher was carrying, so she wanted Miss Fletcher out of the way, or at least wanted to eliminate the reason why the man she liked had to marry Miss Fletcher and not her?”
“Lady Violet spent last evening with Geoffrey,” Constance murmured.
I nodded. “And Olivia Barnsley spent it with the Honorable Reggie.” Who wasn’t very honorable if he got Cecily with child and didn’t offer to marry her.
“Perhaps I should have a chat with one or both of them,” Aunt Roz said thoughtfully. “I’m sure they’re both very upset about their friend’s death. An older, maternal presence might do one or both of them good.”
It had done me good, so I could hardly quibble with that.
“I can’t imagine that Lady Euphemia will step up,” I commented, and Constance shook her head.
“Aunt Effie isn’t the maternal type. She’ll worry about Laetitia and Geoffrey, but none of the others.”
“I think perhaps I’ll go and see if I can’t be of service to the young ladies,” Aunt Roz said and pushed to her feet. “Perhaps they would appreciate someone to talk to. Not just about their friend, but I can reassure them as to the investigation, as well. We did go through one of our own just a month or two ago.”
“Let us know if they say anything interesting,” I said, as I took Aunt Roz’s place on the bed as she crossed the room to the door. “I’ll let you tackle this on your own. My presence would only complicate things, I think.”
The two young women were much more likely to be forthcoming with my aunt than with me.
She nodded. “Of course, dear. I’ll see you both downstairs later.”
We assured her that of course she would, and told her where to find Violet and Olivia—“Most likely upstairs in one of their bedchambers. I didn’t see either of them downstairs earlier. Olivia is in Snowdrop and Violet in Lilac, I believe,” and then Aunt Roz was gone and it was just Constance and me looking at one another.
“I can’t believe this has happened again,” she told me as she came over to sit next to me on the bed.
I nodded. “At least none of us are suspects this time.”
Constance shuddered. “Thank the Lord. I barely even knew Cecily Fletcher. And Francis didn’t know her at all.”
“Nor did I. Enough to recognize her face downstairs last night, but nothing more.”
After a moment’s pause, I added, “I feel horrible, though. If I had realized last night how ill she was…”
