anyone—except, by all accounts of everyone in the household, to their mother. “Spent every spare moment she had making dresses for them,” Mrs. Barnaby had said, reaching a careful finger to touch the sleeping infant’s cheek. “And Miss Lucy so kind, as to give her worn-out chemises and such to be made over into dresses for them—and talking her mother into doing the same. She’d never have gone away from them. Never.”
“I told Lucy I’d write to my father,” Abigail said to John, kneeling by the big kitchen sideboard where Tommy—also affixed by the leading-strings—raised joyful arms to be liberated and lifted. “He can surely find a family in Braintree or Weymouth who can be trusted to care for them, if they can be bought from Fluckner—”
“You speak as if you’re certain their mother is dead.” John opened the drawer of the sideboard, drew out a folded note. “There are other reasons that a woman could be ‘distrait’ or ‘beside herself ’—fear is the one that springs to my mind the quickest—that would drive her from her home and her children, always supposing your Mrs. Sandhayes isn’t correct and the woman wasn’t simply in a state of sickened horror to find herself with child by a man who’d raped her. This came for you just after you’d left. You’re right,” he added thoughtfully. “It is odd.”
“Well, I’ll take oath she wasn’t pregnant, with a baby still at breast.” Abigail straightened with her son in her arms, and unfolded the note. “The idiot,” she added dispassionately, after a quick perusal of that lovely Italianate script.
Seth Balfour—age 45—coachman for Mr. Apthorp—last to arrive at the Governor’s, between ten and ten thirty (heard the clock at the French Meeting-House strike as he let the family off at the front door)—says he is certain there was no body in the lane when he turned his team into the yard. Roughly twenty minutes to unharness, rug the team, then sat with Sellon, Havisham, Lane, Cover in the tack-room next to the gate. Cards, quiet talk. Thinks he would have heard men quarrelling in alley.
Grant Sellon—age 30—His Excel’cy the Gov’s coachman—remained on the premises to supervise—says card-players in tack-room those who have little taste for noise, smells at Spancel. Has known other four for years. Jug of beer from kitchen, Cover had flask of brandy but none of the players became drunk or loud. Heard dogs bark in alley near midnight, went out with lantern, saw nothing but says lantern-light carries only five feet. Attests Balfour could not possibly have seen by light of carriage-lanterns, from carriage-seat to the place where the body was found. Agrees that after Apthorp team unharnessed, rugged, yard was quiet until two a.m. when first guests (Mr. Bowdoin) called for carriages.
Wm Havisham—age 19—His Excel’cy the Gov’s head stable boy—sent by Sellon to fetch in lantern from the gate at 11 p.m.—says saw nothing in alley, but gate-lanterns illuminate only immediate area of the gate, radius ten feet at most. Walked about the yard at quarter past midnight, again at quarter of two, all quiet. Did not go into alley.
Arthur Cover—age 52—head footman for Mr. Bowdoin, Sr.—arrived immediately before Apthorps—while Bowdoin and Apthorp teams being unharnessed, caught short and retreated to alley to relieve himself some twenty feet from yard gate toward Rawson’s Lane. Took a lantern, noticed nothing amiss in direction of Rawson’s Lane. Somewhat nearsighted. Attests barking dog in the alley near midnight, thinks they would have heard men quarreling.
Nicholas Lane—age 22—under-footman for Mr. Vassall—corroborates barking dog, sounds from alley would carry. Walked about the yard at quarter of one, twenty past one, all quiet. Did not go into alley. Attests Spancel tavern favored by stablemen, footmen, does not think anyone would have walked from yard gate southwest to Rawson’s Lane.
Walter
C. J. Cherryh
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