They’d reached the lane where they must part ways.She should have told Brydie to meet her here.The hardware was in the opposite direction of the bakery.
The inn was right next door to the parsonage.A carriage had pulled into the yard to pick up passengers.They seldom saw carriages in the village, so they both stopped to watch.Was the suspect escaping already?
Alarmed, Minerva decided she needn’t wait for Brydie.She could interrogate as a curate’s wife!She took Mrs.Jones’s arm.“A gentleman arrived last night claiming the poor woman in the accident was his sister.We should offer him our respects and condolences.”
Mrs.Jones was always agreeable to gain a bit of gossip.They found Mr.Dryden handing his valise to the driver but no sign of his companion.
“Good day to you, sir.”Minerva bobbed a slight curtsy, giving the clerk a chance to remember that they’d been introduced.
“Mrs.Upton, well met!”the young man cried.“Mr.Browning says to tell you that we have safely stored the Turner valuables until we’re completely clear on ownership.A few smaller pieces are missing, I fear.”
“That was almost to be expected.It is good to know the bulk is intact.We are still attempting to locate the orphans’ family.”Recalling what Brydie had told her about the suspicious Mr.Elton, she added, “Should the silver belong to the children, it would go a long way toward supporting them, would it not?”
The twinkle in his eye indicated Dryden received her message.“Very astute, Mrs.Upton.We must be careful to avoid the sorts more interested in their wealth than welfare, if it becomes apparent the silver is theirs.”
“Is there any chance that Mr.Turner might have had a new will drawn up when he married?And that it may be with a solicitor in Bath or elsewhere?”Without knowing for certain when or where the marriage had taken place, Paul had written the bishop about parish records, but they’d heard nothing yet.
“Now that you’ve brought the children to our attention, Mr.Browning is making inquiries about marriage documents with the bishop for Somerset.He should have the parish records for Bath.If they married more locally...We’ll have to write Staffordshire and Worcestershire and maybe more.We will find them, eventually, if the legalities were followed.”
That was a tremendous amount of writing and waiting.Minerva tried not to be discouraged but it didn’t look as if they’d know much before Christmas.“Since you are solicitors for the estate, are you retrieving any post that comes for Beanblossom?”
Mr.Dryden wrinkled his brow.“I don’t believe we have thought of that.I will arrange to do so as soon as I return.Family would surely write, would they not?”
They parted on that happy possibility.Minerva led Mrs.Jones into the inn as the carriage rumbled off—without its other passenger.She heard Kate ordering the maids about upstairs in Verity’s place.No one minded the lobby.Which probably meant...
She found Rafe scowling irritably, clearing a breakfast table in the pub.He glanced up at their entrance.“Parsons might make a good footman someday, but he’s rotten as a night watchman.Elton broke into my cash box, stole Mr.Dryden’s purse, and vanished last night.”
Alarmed, Minerva considered what that might mean.“Escaping after you exposed him as a liar?Where could he go?The bridge to Birmingham is still closed.Did he steal a horse too?”
“Had to have taken shank’s mare.That sort don’t ride and nothing else is missing.He’ll have the coin to buy a ride though—if he crosses the river to the highway somehow.”Rafe glowered as if harboring murderous thoughts.“He could be in Birmingham by now.”
“Or he can hole up in an empty cottage and wait for a chance to kidnap the orphans,” Minerva said in dismay.She had learned to consider all options at her father’s knee.This one was frightening.She needed to warn Brydie.
Mrs.Jones gasped.“A thief roams the street?Is it possible he’s the murderer?”
Minerva hadn’t wanted to look past stealing the children.
But yes, killing them might possibly have been the ultimate intent.
And now that the church’s primary prattle box knew about the children, the entire shire would know before day’s end.
Twenty-two
Brydie
Furious over learningthe best suspect to come along had escaped, Brydie stalked down the village’s main street to the hardware, accompanied by a silent Minerva.A silent Minerva meant she was plotting.And that was always dangerous.
But Brydie understood the need.The thief and possible killer could be anywhere!How would they sleep nights unless he was caught?Christmas would be exceedingly grim if everyone cowered at home in fear.Verity was likely to flee to the Outer Hebrides to protect the children.Rafe would follow, the inn could close...
Reaching the new hardware, Minerva stopped to study the collection of cooking pots in the mullioned display window.Brydie examined the traditional Tudor exterior.The stucco had recently been whitewashed and the door and timbers had been painted a shiny black.Having a hardware next to the mercantile was convenient for folk bringing their goods to market, even if the stack of baking pans currently displayed left much to be desired.Well, the store wasn’t yet open for business.Perhaps the display would be rearranged.
She wasn’t letting any more suspects escape without interrogation.
The door was open, so Brydie boldly strode in, with Minerva trailing behind her.The gray winter day reduced any light to dim.Brydie concentrated on verifying that her nephew was alive and well.Arthur nodded at her and continued prying open a crate.
A sturdy counter held a few household items that might interest her once she had a kitchen of her own.Behind the counter, the walls held shelves and hooks with mysterious inventory she assumed of more interest to men.She recognized garden implements in the crate Arthur unpacked.
Realizing her librarian companion was cataloging the interior and not socializing as a good parson’s wife should, Brydie led the charge.“Does your family live here, Mr.Jasper?”she asked while admiring a large mixing bowl.“We would not wish you to be alone at Christmas.”
