“And the young Miss Risley herself?”
“Poor girl. As I said yesterday, she was sweet and we had tea together, but she was very quiet, rather subdued in fact. Betrothed to our curate, Caleb Rowland, since last September, I believe. They were waiting till she reached eighteen.”
“Were they in love? Or was it more of a parent-minded match?”
“That is a good question but definitely in love. It was revolting.”
The Risleys sat together on a dark-blue chaise, their slender hands clutched between them.
Rosalind felt a tad nasty at previously calling her a snob and him hen-pecked. They had lost a precious daughter and loved one another – it was clear for all to see.
“When did you last see your daughter?” Lucas enquired softly.
She hadn’t known how Lucas would approach his questioning but this was unexpectedly gentle and he continued in the same tactful manner. Now she could see why he apparently made such a good doctor: he was tender, yet insistent; kind, yet resolute; his voice no longer abrasive but a low, husky roll of words.
“I always told her to take a maid, but the village is…was so safe,” Mrs Risley answered.
His brow furrowed. “But a woman had been murdered only a few weeks before.”
“Well, yes,” replied Mrs Risley, “but she was rather…free, shall we say, with her favours. That was the gossip.”
“Mrs Risley!” her husband said.
“’Tis true,” she mumbled. “Whereas my girl…my girl was good. She went to buy ribbons early one morning. But she…she never came home.”
Rosalind closed her eyes, listening to their pain. The clock ticked loudly and she could hear the maid right outside the door – probably eavesdropping.
“Is there anything else you can tell me? Is there anything missing?”
Opening her lids, she saw them both shake their heads.
“Only her ring, of course,” Mr Risley said, “but Sir Hector–”
“A ring?” Lucas interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “What ring?”
“Well,” Mr Risley gruffly explained, “Sir Hector said that women were always losing their rings. He said his wife did it all the time, so we didn’t think much of it. I said to my wife it was unusual as she loved that ring. Caleb gave it to her. It was one of those fide rings. Have you seen them?”
Lucas shook his head. “Fide means faith, doesn’t it? But I don’t know the ring.”
“Ah well, there are these tokens. Given between courting couples as a sign of love and fidelity. Caleb gave our girl one, about a month before. When I went to see the body…” Mrs Risley let out a sob and clutched her husband’s hand. He patted it softly. “I mean, went to see our girl,” he continued, “well, the ring wasn’t on her finger. It isn’t here either as I searched the house. I thought Caleb might want it, or she could have been buried with it. But it was nowhere to be found.”
“Did she always wear it?”
“Always,” Mrs Risley interrupted, her pale-blue eyes piercing. “And to tell you the truth, it was a little too tight so I never did believe it just fell off. Sir Hector said she might have lost it tramping in the woods, but she was a lady; sheneverwalked in the woods…”
Rosalind felt Mrs Risley’s eyes slide to her, but the disapproving comment had no effect – it didn’t matter, not when a life had been taken, and besides, she was right.
“Do you know if Sir Hector searched the woods?”
“I believe he did.”
“Can you describe the ring?”
“Gold. With a heart held by two hands.”
“I have seen that style,” acknowledged Lucas, “very pretty. I would appreciate it if you could search the house again. Just to make sure. It could be important.”
“Certainly, my lord. Anything to help. Anything at all.”
