Page 60 of The Case of the Curate

“I’d ask Salter to speak for my character,” Rupert interrupted, “but I hope he’s clear of Chadleigh by then.”

Salter grinned, quite unoffended. “We all know I’d do you no good. Still, it’s a rum rig, banging up the parson! Come to let us out, miss?”

“No,” Rupert said firmly.

Salter shrugged philosophically.

“You’re right, though,” Kate agreed, deciding she would just have to trust the soldier if she was to talk to Rupert at all. After all, he appeared to hold the curate in high regard. “It is rum. None of this makes sense. I need your help, Rupert. Tell me about Dinah. Are you sure she wouldn’t have indulged in blackmail?”

Rupert shook his head decisively. “Lord, no. There was no malice in her. What on earth makes you wonder about blackmail?”

“I just can’t find a reason for anyone to kill her, and one of the footmen told me she was frightened by someone bothering her. This footman, Lewis, stole the dagger from Chadbon’s study, and gave it to her for protection. Temporarily. Or so he says.”

“You know, I think I’ll go to bed,” Salter said, sitting down rather suddenly on his pallet. He rolled over onto his side, dragging the blanket up around him.

“He’s been drinking since midday,” Rupert explained, swiping up a flask from the floor and turning it upside down. Sighing, he pushed the stopper in and threw it onto the other pallet.

Kate produced Gilbert’s flask from her pocket and passed it through the bars.

Rupert grinned. “You are wonderful, young Kate.”

“It’s only wine. Do they feed you in here?”

“Three meals a day. Of a sort.” He tipped up the flask and took a mouthful before passing it back through the bars.

“I’m still awake,” Salter said from the bed.

“You’ve had enough,” Rupert replied.

“I have,” Salter agreed.

Kate felt her lips twitch. “None of this bothers you, does it, Rupert?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. Dinah’s death bothers me a lot. And this isn’t where I meant to spend my time as curate. No point in throwing things, though, is there?”

“No.” Distractedly, she sipped the wine and passed the flask back to Rupert. “Was she frightened?”

“Of what would happen to her if she was dismissed, yes.”

“But not of one particular man?”

“Not as far as I know. She never gave me that impression. If she really was, it must have been of someone who arrived after I last spoke to her. Was one of Chadbon’s guests bothering her?”

“It’s possible, though Lady Chadbon is quite careful about such things, and the guests themselves are very aware of the dangers of scandal.”

“There wouldn’t be any,” Rupert pointed out. “The girl would simply be dismissed, and no one would ever know.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised that he was aware of such things.

He frowned. “That was really all that frightened her, what frightens most maids, being dismissed. So why would she accept the dagger from the footman when she knew he’d stolen it?”

“To put it back?” Kate suggested.

“Only, she didn’t, did she?”

“She might have,” Kate argued. “No one but Otteridge seemed to notice it was gone from the study, so she could have put it back without Lewis’s knowing. Which puts us back to who else took it from the study?”

“Or Otteridge could have been lying.”