“When was the last time you saw her here in the square?” It was the first of many times Solomon was going to have to ask the questions, sort the accurate from the vague and build a timetable of Caterina’s movements. At least Wainright seemed happy to help. Not everyone would be so accommodating.
*
Surprisingly, Montague hadagain gone to work. Since he clearly had not rescinded his instruction to co-operate with Constance, she was able to interview each of the servants again. They didn’t like it, of course—they had work to do, apart from anything else—but the hint this was all for their master’s peace of mind seemed to remove any reluctance to talk. Which was interesting. They didn’t just feel sorry for their master, they liked him, were protective of him.
Did a man like that—a distant man who inspired devotion in spite of himself—really decide to kill his wife? His very reserve made it hard to judge.
Even before she spoke again to Mary Webb, the other servants had helped her build up a schedule of Caterina’s outings and returns to the house.
She had exercised her voice at home most mornings, sometimes with an instructor, sometimes alone. In the afternoons, she generally went to the theatre or met friends. Often, she did not come home until after the evening performances, but sometimes she returned earlier, often with purchases made at the shops. It seemed that on Wednesday the twenty-ninth of June, the day after she was supposed to have ended her affair with Darrow, she had left home in the carriage before luncheon, with the intention of shopping, though she had returned with no purchases.
“Did Mary Webb go with her?” Constance asked Collins the butler.
Unusually, Collins was not sure. “She might have. If madam required her presence on her outings, Miss Webb usually came home late in the afternoon to attend to her duties here. She didn’t usually accompany her to the theatre.”
“Thank you. Tell me, did Mrs. Montague seem at all agitated or different in any way when she came home on the evening of Monday the twenty-seventh of June? Or at any time after that?”
“No, madam.” The butler’s supercilious face relaxed slightly. “But then, shewasdifferent, if you like,everytime you saw her, sometimes livelier and laughing. At others more subdued. Sometimes talkative, at others more thoughtful.”
“And on Monday the twenty-seventh?”
“I really couldn’t say.”
He wasn’t being obstructive, she thought. He really couldn’t remember all his mistress’s moods. Times and destinations were things he remembered better.
“And the week that she died,” Constance said. “Everyone tells me she was very happy on Wednesday night. What about Monday and Tuesday?”
Butler frowned in thought. “Monday, she seemed…preoccupied,” he said at last. “I don’t recall Tuesday. She was tired, I think, but contented.”
“One last thing, Collins. You have been employed here for some years?”
“Indeed.”
“Do you recall Mr. Montague being betrothed to another lady, some ten years ago?”
“Miss Worthington. Of course.”
“Another tragedy poor Mr. Montague has had to face,” Contance said with genuine sympathy. “I suppose he was very much upset by that, too.”
“Naturally. It was so sudden, and she was so young…”
The familiarity of his phrase caused a chill to skitter down her spine. The words had been used so often about Caterina’s death.
“How did Miss Worthington die?” Constance asked.
Collins spread his hands. “No one knows. She was found dead in her parents’ garden, as though she had just stopped breathing.”
Just like Caterina…Her chill became a thrill of excitement. Dear God, no wonder Kellar was suspicious. Why had he not told them this in the first place? She wanted to bolt from the house, find Solomon immediately and tell him this stunning fact.
Montague…It had always made more sense. He was in the house, could easily have unlocked his wife’s door—after picking the roses, perhaps as a reason to be welcomed into the bedroom. She was unfaithful and he needed the money…
And if she had been planning to run away with Darrow, she could, thanks to Kellar, have found a way to take her money with her.
On top of which, Sophie Worthington’s death could well be why Caterina had been afraid of her husband.
Solomon needed to know.
But there was more to learn here first, armed now with this new knowledge.
