Page 25 of The Case of the Curate

And yet these same guests—with the possible exception of the Nyes—would have been frequent visitors at Chadbon House in London, where they would almost certainly have encountered the decorative Dinah. What if one of these men were responsible for Dinah’s child? What if she had been desperate enough to threaten them in some way? Even to try to extort money?

Speculation. She had no real idea what sort of person Dinah was. She could and would ask the servants, of course, but it was Rupert she really needed to talk to.

Grissy entered the room with a cheerful greeting and set about choosing a more suitable gown for tea. Kate watched her, plotting.

“What?” Grissy asked, scowling with all the familiarity of a servant who had known her mistress since childhood.

“Are you very tired, Grissy?”

“Tired? Course not. Less to do in someone else’s house, isn’t there?”

“Then you’ll be up to a walk later?”

“Where to?” Grissy asked suspiciously. “When?”

“Along some country roads. After midnight, probably, when everyone else is asleep.”

Grissy groaned. “Oh no! Seriously? Miss Kate, you’re a married lady! You can’t get up to mischief with his young lordship anymore!”

To her annoyance, Kate felt herself blushing. “Who said anything about any young lordship?”

“The curate, then, though if you ask me, he’s up to something, playing such a part.”

“Well, if you won’t come with me, at least make sure there’s a lantern by the side door.”

Grissy eyed her with dislike. “You know I won’t let you go alone. Or stay out late, mind you. We’re to go back to London tomorrow.”

“Ah. About that. We may stay on for a few days. I need to help Lady Chadbon with something.”

“Does his nibs know?”

Kate could never cure Grissy of referring to her master in such terms. In truth, there seemed to be no malice behind it. “I shall write to Sir Gilbert, of course.”

“And if he’s relying on you to be home?” Grissy asked.

“He isn’t,” Kate said with certainty. Gilbert was not a man of impulse. Since Parliament was not sitting, no emergencies would occur, and he had given her no tasks beyond the matter of Nye and maintaining the coalition of support for his returning soldiers bill.

She stuffed the paper she had been writing on into the desk drawer and rose to change into the simple white gown with the blue embroidery at its high waist and sleeves. Grissy handed her the shawl of the same shade of blue, and although it was still early for tea, she went downstairs. No one was in the ground-floor hall, so she walked straight through to the orangery.

For a moment, she sat in the chair Rupert had occupied during their conversation last night and gazed out of the window.

Remington was right. Rupert should have seen the attack on Dinah. Although nighttime, even with strong moonlight, did distort what one could see through glass. He claimed to have been looking at the sky, and thinking. What had been so preoccupying that he had neither seen nor heard a murderous attack?

It must surely have been very quick and very silent. Which she supposed was a good thing for Dinah, if the poor girl had to die.

She shivered and jumped up to open the orangery doors to the garden. She could still see where the body had lain, for the grass was still depressed all around the area, where many feet had also fallen that evening.

There’s no blood, she thought suddenly. According to Dr. Paxton, the knife had prevented the heart’s blood from escaping outside the body. Instead, she had bled internally. So the killer would not have been covered in his victim’s blood. Therefore, Rupert’s freedom from bloodstains was no proof of his innocence.

Kate looked toward the house, wondering where exactly Dinah had come from, and what had led her to that precise spot. She must have come through that door in the wall, although her direct path to the orangery, where she was supposed to meet Rupert, would have been directly along the right-hand path, not to the left in among the bushes and trees that lined the wall.

Unless she was hiding… Had she heard something and taken fright? Hidden so that she was not seen shirking her duties? Behind the plain tree would have seemed a good place—only, what if that was where her murderer had been waiting? The grass was scuffed and worn down around the tree too, although not to the extent, surely, of a major scuffle.

So little to show for such a vile, heinous act…

If the killer had indeed lain in wait for Dinah, then he must have known of her assignation with Rupert.

Or had he just crept after her out of the same door? Kate thought of the girl alone and seeking help, startled and frightened by some sudden noise, hiding from the one man who might have saved her, and walking straight into the arms of her murderer. Since Rupert had heard nothing, the killer must have actually lowered her body gently to the ground, not let it fall with a bump that might well have attracted the curate’s attention. Her clothes had not been disordered by a struggle. In fact, she had looked almost prim, lying there…