Face Down In The Marrow-Bone Pie Part 6

On the wall opposite the two queens, a stag hunt was depicted. The tree at the center of the scene bore a crest showing an eagle and a child. Since she had long had an interest in such matters, Susanna recognized them as emblems of the Stanley family and knew the Stanleys were the most influential landholders in these parts. She supposed Grimshaw sought to flatter the local n.o.bility, for it seemed unlikely a mere lawyer would have the right to quarter such exalted arms himself.

On the wall between these two tributes to those in power was another crest, a s.h.i.+eld she did not recognize. "Gules three bendlets enhanced or, a chief argent therein, on waves of the sea, a s.h.i.+p under sail proper," Susanna murmured, enumerating aloud the elements of the heraldic device.

"The arms of the borough of Manchester," said a voice from the doorway behind her.

Susanna turned slowly. "Master Grimshaw?" By his dress alone, this was the lawyer.

"I am he." A tall, gaunt, balding man of indeterminate years, his long, lugubrious face clean-shaven, he toyed with the strings that tied his ruff and regarded her with wary eyes. "I was not expecting you, Lady Appleton. Am I to conclude you accompanied your husband on a visit to his estates?"

"Sir Robert is occupied with the queen's business. I am here in his stead, with full authority to restore Appleton Manor to its former glory."

Her declaration seemed to startle him. "You plan to stay, madam? At Appleton Manor?"

"Indeed, I do. I've come to Manchester to hire servants and buy livestock and seed. We can still plant winter wheat before the first frost. Then there is the matter of renovations. The foundation of the house is sound. Repairs will be necessary before one would wish to winter there, but they can be done easily enough by willing hands."

Grimshaw cleared his throat. "A difficult task, to find men willing, that is. The rumors-"

"Are only rumors, Master Grimshaw. There is no ghost at Appleton Manor. I believe that if we can convince the original servants to return, others will follow. Young Grizel has found new employment with my neighbor, Mistress Denholm, but what of the others?"

"Others?"

"There was a cook," Susanna had to struggle to quell her impatience. Grimshaw's manner annoyed her. She wanted to shout at him, if only to jar him out of what appeared to be a complacent stupidity. "There must have been other servants, though perilous little was done to keep up the grounds or repair the house."

"A scullion," Grimshaw reluctantly admitted, "and an odd-job man."

"They will have to do, then. Where did the scullion go?"

"I do not know, Lady Appleton. He was a lad of no importance."

"Do you know his name?"

"I do not recall it."

"The odd-job man?"

Grimshaw made a little sound of distress. "I fear I do not remember him, either. No doubt a cottager too poor to own his own plow."

Susanna knew such fellows were commonly hired to do hand work with spade and fork, or to help with sheep shearing, wattle weaving, bean planting, ditch digging, thatching, or brewing. On occasion they even found work guarding prisoners held for trial. It was possible she'd already met the odd-job man, among the sullen villagers in Gorebury.

"You are uncommonly ill informed," she accused him.

"I had little to do with the day-to-day running of the estate, madam. John Bexwith saw to that."

"Not very well." Her irritation grew with every word Grimshaw spoke, and yet she knew he was right. It had not been his responsibility to oversee Appleton Manor. It had been Robert's, and thus her own.

Defensive, Grimshaw sputtered, then volunteered the information that he had gone to Appleton Manor in person on the occasion of Bexwith's death. "There was no holding the servants there," he insisted. "The best that could be done was to store the plate and some perishable goods here in Manchester, and to sell off the livestock."

He'd had no authority to do either, but Susanna did not admonish him. She wanted answers, which required his continued goodwill. Once she had ascertained the location of Appleton Manor's portable furnis.h.i.+ngs and arranged to reclaim them, she returned to the matter of servants.

"Do you remember the name of the cook?"

"Mabel Hussey."

Grimshaw's prompt reply surprised her, and so did the content of his answer. "A woman? Is that common in these parts? In London and its environs, most cooks are men."

"Common enough. She was adequate for Appleton's needs."

"The house or the man?"

"I do not-"

"Did she cook for Sir George before she provided that service for his steward?"

"I believe so, but as I have said already, Lady Appleton, such domestic matters were not my concern. When Sir George was alive, I visited Appleton Manor only once, when Sir George decided that he required my services to make his will."

There was nothing unusual in that, Susanna supposed, and she could hardly criticize Grimshaw when she'd been neglecting the place so shamefully herself. When men owned properties spread out over the length and breadth of England, absentee landlords were more common than not. Even stewards sometimes delegated their authority, leaving bailiffs to handle the day to day business. But that situation was not one she endorsed, for it was almost always detrimental to the land itself.

Seating herself in one of two heavily carved chairs, Susanna regarded Grimshaw in thoughtful silence. A steward might be responsible for widely scattered estates, but John Bexwith had not been. He'd had but one demesne to oversee, and he'd neglected it sadly.

Grimshaw had done nothing to improve matters, save write nagging letters to Kent. Why? Susanna wondered about his motive more than ever, for he did not seem particularly pleased to have gotten her presence in response to them.

In his turn, Grimshaw seemed to be studying her. At last he sank into the other chair and folded his hands over a slightly concave abdomen. "How else may I be of a.s.sistance to you, Lady Appleton?" he asked.

"I wish to hire back any former servants who will come. I must find new ones, as well. Cook. Dairymaid. A plowman and a carter, a cowherd, a swineherd, and a shepherd. I will pay ten s.h.i.+llings per annum, and thirty for an experienced chief plowman, plus livery and an allowance of grain, flour and salt. And a pair of gloves."

Grimshaw's small, dark eyes widened a fraction. "Most generous, madam. Hereabout you might buy a horse for thirty s.h.i.+llings."

"As high as twenty s.h.i.+llings for a woman to brew, bake, and malt," she continued, "and eighteen to a woman who will work indoors. Then I will need masons and carpenters and common laborers. I will pay the latter a penny a day, which is more than they would earn from anyone else in these parts." Briefly, she outlined her plans for rebuilding the house Robert's father had left him. "Now, about Mabel Hussey." She gathered her skirts in preparation to rise. "Where is she currently employed?"

"You do not want her back," Grimshaw said hastily.

Susanna settled back into the chair again. "Why not?"

"Well, um, I, er, that is-"

"I see. You think she might pose a threat to me because she was the one who made that marrow-bone pie."

Grimshaw looked horrified. "Oh, no, Lady Appleton. There was never any suspicion that her cooking was responsible for Bexwith's death." He sprang to his feet and came a few steps toward her before he faltered to a stop, uncertain about approaching her so closely.

No suspicion at all? Susanna found that in itself peculiar. "Perhaps you can tell me, Master Grimshaw, what is in such a dish, aside from the marrow bones?"

Taken aback by the question, he only gaped at her.

"Come, come, Master Grimshaw. Have you never eaten a marrow-bone pie? I had a.s.sumed it was a local favorite."

"Only for those of ample means." At once he looked as if he wished back that remark, but she seized on his words with the alacrity of a buckhound scenting its prey.

"A delicacy, then? And why is that?"

"Lady Appleton, I a.s.sure you the pie did not cause Bexwith's death."

"Then 'twill do no harm for me to learn how to make one for myself."

"I am a lawyer, not a cook."

"What ingredients must I purchase?"

With ill grace, he gave in. "Different cooks use different combinations, but most include artichokes and currants and dates. And sugar. And marrow bones. Nothing harmful."

Artichokes grew in many a kitchen garden and marrow bones, too, were easy to come by, but the other ingredients were less common. Bexwith ate well for a mere steward. "Sugar, currants, and dates? A rich dish for a man of his . . . years."

"Too rich, indeed," Grimshaw agreed, giving her remark a double meaning, "but it did not cost him his life."

"How can you be so sure?"

"There was another, more obvious, cause."

"Ah. This ghost you wrote of." She fixed him with a steely glare. "I do not believe in such things."

Grimshaw backed away, his eyes s.h.i.+fting nervously, never quite meeting Susanna's steady gaze. "You may not believe Bexwith was frightened to death by a spirit, Lady Appleton, but I can tell you that the servants who were there most a.s.suredly do."

"I would like to speak to them myself." She toyed with her wedding band, which was somewhat loose of late, deliberately giving Grimshaw time to recover himself. As rattled as he appeared to be, it seemed likely he believed in the supernatural, too. "Perhaps I can convince them they are being pa.s.sing foolish."

"I will tell you all I know of them, Lady Appleton," Grimshaw promised, "but I fear it is precious little. Mabel Hussey meant to seek employment in Manchester and was living in Long Millgate soon after Bexwith's death."

"And the odd-job man?" Susanna watched Grimshaw's face closely, thinking he was a surprisingly spineless specimen for a successful man of law. Was he always this pathetically easy to manipulate? Or simply clever enough to appear to capitulate when he realized further resistance might create greater suspicion on her part?

"I know neither his name nor his plans."

"The scullion?"

"Richard Poulter. He had family in Preston. He may have gone back there. It was a terrifying time for them all. They will not want to return. If you must have servants, my advice is to find individuals who have never heard of Appleton Manor."

"I will consider what you say," Susanna agreed. "Now, what can you tell me of John Bexwith? Was he from these parts?"

"Bexwith was a local man," the lawyer conceded, "but he has no family left, having outlived them all."

"What qualified him to be steward?"

"An odd question, madam. Sir George thought him adequate and your husband kept him on. I know no more than that."

"Who would remember how he came to hold such an important post at Appleton Manor?" she asked.

"No one I know." Grimshaw's wariness was almost palpable again.

Susanna favored him with a rather grim smile. "One last matter, Master Grimshaw," she said as she donned her soft, leather gloves in preparation to leave. "I have told you already that I do not believe in ghosts, but since many hereabout seem to, I would like to find out all I can about this spirit who is alleged to haunt my house. I am told she is the ghost of a girl named Edith."

Grimshaw's start of surprise checked Susanna's departure. She studied him carefully for a long moment.

"Have I come to an erroneous conclusion?" she asked, knowing full well that Effie Denholm had confirmed her guess as to the ident.i.ty of the ghost. "When I heard the way my late father-by-marriage died, it did seem that the most likely person to be haunting the stairs to the solar would be that poor girl he'd been chasing when he fell."

Grimshaw cleared his throat. "Edith, you say?"

"I was informed that was the poor wench's name, but I pray you, Master Grimshaw, tell me who is it that you thought had come back to haunt Appleton Manor."

He ran trembling fingers through his thinning hair and said, more to himself than to her, "Jane. I was sure it was Jane who had returned from the dead."

"Jane?" That was a common enough name, but not one that Susanna could remember hearing before in connection with Appleton Manor.

Grimshaw nodded, still avoiding her eyes. "Sir George's fifth wife."

"And why did you think her a likely ghost?"

Grimshaw did not answer directly. He was still muttering distractedly to himself. "The servant that saw it would give no ident.i.ty to the spirit. She did but describe its terrifying presence, how it seemed to float on the stairs, all garbed in white, billowy stuff."

With luck, Jennet was even now quizzing Grizel about what she'd seen. Or what she imagined she'd seen. Ghost stories all had a suspicious sameness.

"Tell me about this Jane Appleton, Master Grimshaw. How did she die?"

"Did your husband never mention Jane to you?"

"Why should he speak of her? She must have married his father long after Robert had left Lancas.h.i.+re."

Grimshaw's agitation increased. He rubbed his chin, then doubled his hand into a fist. "She'd been meant for him."

"Speak plainly, Master Grimshaw." All this wavering made her impatient. "I do not understand you."

"Jane was to have married Robert," the lawyer blurted.

This was news to Susanna, but she managed to hide her surprise. "Go on."

"After his son went south, Sir George declared he'd wed the la.s.s himself. She was a pretty young thing and had a goodly dowry and he was always eager to acquire more wealth."

"So, he married Robert's intended bride." It did not particularly surprise Susanna that Robert had never mentioned the girl to her. Given the way marriages were arranged, their own included, handled by the families or guardians of those concerned, it was possible Robert had never met Jane. It was even possible he'd never been informed that she was under consideration as his future bride.

"How did Jane die?" Susanna asked. "And when?"

"During the epidemic eight years past." Grimshaw's eyes betrayed a deep sadness that made Susanna think he had lost loved ones at the same time. Indeed, the mysterious illness called the sweat had left few families unscathed.

"Her little daughter died with her," Grimshaw added, "a babe of less than a year."

That, too, was news to Susanna. Robert had, briefly, had a sister. With an effort, she concentrated on the present, filing away these new revelations to consider at a later time. Robert was not here for her to question about Jane, but there might be more she could learn from Grimshaw.

"If she died of the sweating sickness," Susanna said slowly, "then why would anyone think she'd return to haunt the house, and years after her husband's death, at that?"

Grimshaw ran one finger under the edge of his ruff, as if it suddenly felt far too tight. His voice sounded choked. "Did she wait? I do wonder, for when I first heard what had happened to Bexwith, I could not help but think that it might be the second time she'd come back from the dead to cause a man's death. Sir George fell from those very stairs, fell and broke his neck. Some might ask why."

"They did not at the time."