The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

“No doubt we’ll be back before Mackenzie finishes running his lordship’s errands.” It suddenly occurred to her that she did not know where Mary lived. “If you direct me to the cottage you can wait here.”

“I’ll come as far as the well and wait for you there.”

Ursula led Lillian to a row of terraced cottages. They were small. Each had a weather-beaten door and one tiny window. The grey mudstone gave them a cold, rustic feel, made drearier now black clouds obscured the sun.

“It’s the one with the green door.” Ursula pointed to the middle of the row. “Take as long as you need, my lady, and I’ll keep you company on the way back. When the weather turns, it’s best not to wander about alone.”

“Thank you, Ursula.”

The lane was deserted. Some of the men worked at the dock when not at sea. Some worked up at the castle, tending to the crops and livestock. As soon as Lillian knocked the door she knew something was wrong. The door creaked open though she heard nothing but an eerie silence within.

Lillian hesitated. Perhaps Mary had taken ill, and the poor woman’s body lay cold and lifeless on the bed. She glanced over her shoulder at Ursula who immediately sensed something was amiss and came running.

“What is it, my lady?”

“The door was open.”

Ursula peered through the narrow gap into the parlour-come-kitchen. “Most of us leave our doors open.

We’re like a family, forever popping in to share supper or to borrow cheese and bread.”

The explanation sounded logical, were they not talking about Mary. “Who amongst you would want to visit Mary? You said so yourself, no one trusts her.”

Ursula nodded. “Maybe she’s gone out, and this fierce wind blew the door. Probably best we return to the castle. The heavens are about to unleash a week’s worth of rain by the look of it.”

A sudden bang from inside the cottage made Lillian gasp. “Did you hear that?”

“As I said, my lady, it’s probably the wind. Do you want me to see if Mary’s left a window open?”

The patter of footsteps drew their attention. Lillian pressed her finger to her lips before pushing the door. They crept inside and followed the sound to the only other room in the house.

A figure appeared in the doorway.

Lillian’s heart flew up to her throat.

“Heather?” Ursula said. “What are you doing here? Is this not Mary’s cottage?”

A blush touched Heather’s ashen face. “My lady! I noticed the door was open as I passed.” Did the tremor in her voice speak of guilt or nerves? “After the rumpus yesterday, I thought it odd.”

“Rumpus?” Ursula and Lillian said in unison as they exchanged curious glances.

“I heard raised voices. It went on for almost half an hour and then it went quiet.”

“Did you not think to knock and enquire after her wellbeing?” Lillian asked. Perhaps one of Fabian’s men had cause to confront Mary. Perhaps she had stumbled upon him digging for treasure.

“Folk don’t go poking their nose in where it’s not welcome.”

What she meant was she didn’t want the men to think she had sided with a traitor’s wife.

“Well, did you find anything amiss?”

“There’s a silver candlestick on the bed.” Heather glanced back over her shoulder. “You don’t think she stole it from the castle?”

A candlestick? The blood drained from Lillian’s face.

“Things have been difficult since her husband left,” Ursula added.

Lillian knew better than to jump to conclusions. Things were not always as they appeared, but the evidence against Mary was mounting. For Mackenzie’s sake, she wanted to believe it was all a terrible misunderstanding.