“He most likely has the perpetual curacy, as I do.He’s unlikely to leave and the rector knows it.I imagine Hunt will reimburse us if we help solve the case.”He shook the reins and sent the horse back to the lane.
“Do you find the conflict of information as suspicious as I do?”Minerva settled back in the seat.Jostling wheels had been a part of her itinerant childhood.She accepted the discomfort if it accomplished her task.
“You have a naturally suspicious mind, my love, but yes, I agree.The children called themselves Turner.They had no reason to make that up.The husband apparently claimed them and his name was Turner.It’s only this unknown trust solicitor calling her Smith and a mistress, not a wife.”
“Thank you.Mr.Turner might be an utter rogue and rakehell with mistresses and children scattered over the countryside, but she believed herself married, so she must have had marriage documents.We need to find them.Do you think Browning’s clerk will allow us to search?”
“No, not too obviously.But we could askhimto look through desks and such in search of the children’s identity—provided any desk or papers remain.”Paul hurried the mare into a trot, glancing at the overcast sky.
They didn’t have much time before dark.Less, if it rained.
Mr.Browning’s clerk had already tethered his horse and gone inside by the time they drove through the open gate.Rose briars covered the cottage wall.They must have smelled heavenly in summer.The yard was merely a square of well-maintained grass.The old two-story stone and thatch cottage sprawled to either side with newer additions.
“Not elegant but, for a young couple, expensive to buy and maintain,” Minerva whispered as Paul handed her down.
“We’ll need to ask after the staff.They might help.”He took her arm to lead her down a flagstone walk.
Wearing a frown, Mr.Dryden, the son of one of Mr.Browning’s partners, greeted them at the entrance.A well set-up young man with blondish hair and a round face, he gestured at a cart behind an enormous rhododendron.“It seems someone has started removals, but we have not authorized any.We shall have to write the estate to verify approval.”
The young clerk lacked Minerva’s worldly experience.She left Paul talking with him and drifted over to examine the cart’s contents.Whether it had been loaded legally or illegally, why had it been abandoned?It was obvious no one guarded the cottage.She tested a trunk lid, found it unlocked, and peered in.Silver.She dropped it back and looked under the second.Clothes.No books.Thieves seldom recognize the value of books.Movers from an estate would.
She returned to Paul and Mr.Dryden.“Does the silver belong to the estate or has family claimed it?”
Dryden stared at her in alarm.“It all belongs to the estate!We’re authorized to permit removal of personal objects, but the silver— No, no, I’m quite certain that is a part of the inventory to be sold.”He rushed to examine the trunk.
“Really, whoever owns the estate is a complete gudgeon to not keep servants to guard the place.”Minerva entered the house, leaving Paul to help the clerk haul the trunks inside.
She hastily scanned the front room.Not luxurious but charming, with lively chintz upholstery and a pretty blue velvet drapery.A Chippendale writing desk had been ransacked, the drawers hastily closed, leaving papers sticking out the edge.Minerva sorted through them but found no legal documents.She suspected they’d been stolen if there had been any.Her nose for trouble tingled.
The right-wing addition contained a formal dining room, from whence the silver had been pilfered, if the rings in the dust on the empty shelves were any indication.
The left addition contained a generous study and library.The books about head height appeared scattered and shoved carelessly in place.Searching for a safe?The desk was empty.Mr.Turner’s effects may have been removed upon his death.
While the men were otherwise occupied, she hastened up the stairs.
A portable writing desk in the main bedchamber held receipts and a few unopened letters addressed to Mrs.ThomasTurner.Unlike Willa, the deceased must have thrown out all correspondence to which she’d replied.There was nothing here from parents or any other family.A quick search revealed no neatly stored letters.
Minerva opened the letters and made note of the signatures, but the names didn’t ring any bells.The letters didn’t include more than a date and salutation.But they verified she was known as Mrs.Turner, notSmith.
The clothing had been emptied from the wardrobe.Any jewel case had been removed.They’d probably find one in the cart.Surely, her jewels were among her personal effects and belonged to the children, but there had been none in their bag.
She could hear the men downstairs by the time she reached the nursery.She should hurry.An open trunk sat between two small beds.Children’s clothes and shoes had been tossed in—not neatly folded as a nanny might.
On the pink bed, she found a cloth rabbit and a doll with a porcelain head.Schoolbooks still sat stacked on a child’s desk.These thieves really did not value books.She added all of them to the trunk but found nothing that would help locate family.
“I haven’t checked the chambers over the wings,” she told Paul when he joined her.“I assume she had servants, but they would have packed up their belongings when they left.Do you think they may have returned to ransack the house?”
He lifted the children’s trunk and carried it to the head of the stairs.“It’s a very real possibility.Have you found any bookkeeping journals of whom she may have paid and when?”
That he acknowledged her snooping without criticism made her smile.“Not yet.She doesn’t appear to be someone who cared much for writing.”She indicated the trunk.“But the children had books.She read to them.”
“I’ll search the remaining rooms.Go sweet talk Mr.Dryden and convince him we need to remove the children’s belongings.He’s in a state and attempting to do a complete inventory on the spot.”
Knowing the search was in good hands, Minerva trotted downstairs to distract the clerk.He was counting pots and dishes in the kitchen.
“We should take the silver back to your law office,” she offered.“And if you don’t think the estate will mind, we’ll take the children’s personal items.Someone has conveniently begun to pack everything upstairs.”
He looked at her, wide-eyed.“Do thieves pack clothes?Should I consult the previous staff?Call a constable?”
