Page 67 of The Hidden Heart

“I don’t mind telling you, Your Grace,” the thickset man answered easily. “It were a Mr. Joseph Gilpin that hired me, a rich cit in London. He had some expensive jewelry stolen from his home, and he set me to find it. He suspected the theft was done by a middle-aged dancing master he had hired to teach his daughters. I had reason to believe he had taken the mail coach to York, so I was following him.”

“You mean—the very coach the other guests arrived here in?” Jessica asked.

Mr. Cobb glanced at her and shrugged. “Mayhap, miss. I had reason to think so. He couldn’t have got away much earlier. If he was on the coach, then he’s here in this house. Personally, I’ve got a notion it might be that Goodrich chap. He’s a nervous sort. Always does his best to keep as far away from me as ever he can.”

“I see.”

“Course,” Cobb went on philosophically, “if the fellow did happen to catch a coach the day before, then I’ve lost his trail right proper, what with the snow stopping me.”

“A thief…” Richard mused. “Then do you think Kestwick might have been right the other night at supper when he said it was a thief in my study that night? That he was looking it over to decide what he might steal?”

“Well, he’s an audacious one, he is,” Cobb said. “If Mr. Gilpin’s right, he lived with them for a couple of weeks, then stole the jewels right out from under their noses. Not the usual thing of slipping into and out of the house under cover of darkness. If I was a thief, sir, and I found myself in a house like yours, I think I’d be tempted to see what I could find to take with me. Especially if I thought I was a crafty one.” He tapped his temple. “That’s what brings ones like that down, I’ll tell you that. Thinking they’re so much smarter than anyone else. Trips them up, that pride.”

Mr. Cobb left to bring in the first of the guests to be interviewed. After he walked out the door, Jessica said, “Do you think that Mr. Cobb’s thief has anything to do with what happened to Mrs. Woods? Even if he is who you surprised in your study?”

Richard shrugged. “It’s all a tangle. I am not even sure that Mrs. Woods didn’t simply fall, as everyone would obviously like to believe. It is just that cut on her cheek, and the lateness of the hour…”

The door opened to admit Lady Westhampton. The interview was brief, as she had gone to bed early, nursing her head cold, and had neither seen nor heard anything until Mrs. Woods’ scream awakened her. Gabriela’s interview was much the same, and Richard sent the girl and Lady Westhampton back to their rooms to seek whatever rest they could. Next came Miss Pargety, who was eager to talk. Indeed, they soon discovered that she was difficult to stop.

“I knew that woman was trouble,” she said, bobbing her head to emphasize the point. “Right from the beginning. Foreign looking. Up to no good, I’ll warrant. Popping in and out of her room at all hours of the night.”

“Did you see Mrs. Woods leave her room?” Richard asked, leaning forward interestedly.

“I didn’t see any of them. But I could hear them. It was hard for a decent body to get a wink of sleep, the ways doors were opening and closing.”

“But you did not specifically see or hear Mrs. Woods.”

“No,” Miss Pargety admitted reluctantly.

“What about anyone else? Did you see anyone else leave his or her room? Or hear a voice you recognized?”

“I heard that Lady Vesey,” she said, primming her mouth. “I heard her giggling, but I didn’t see where she went.”

They finished the interviews of the female guests with Lady Vesey. She came in and sat down, looking for once somewhat subdued.

“I am sure I cannot tell you anything important, Cleybourne,” she said, sighing. “I did not see the woman fall. I came running out when I heard the scream.”

“And where did you run out from?” Richard asked pointedly.

She cast a quick glance at him, then looked down at her hands. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“If you were with anyone else, it would prove that you were not the one who shoved Mrs. Woods down the stairs,” Richard said.

Leona gasped with outrage. “As if I would have had anything to do with that!”

“I don’t see how it would have benefited you,” Richard said agreeably, “otherwise I would be more suspicious of you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “There is no need for you to be insulting, Cleybourne. You know I didn’t shove her down the stairs. Why would I?” She tossed her hair back, looking at him with a certain defiance. “Well, I was with someone. But it would be a scandal. I cannot tell you.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Richard replied.

“I doubt it.”

“The Reverend Radfield?”

Leona stared at him, bug-eyed. “How did you—”

“What I want to know is whether the two of you were still together when Mrs. Woods met her death.”