Free Jane and the Stillroom Maid by Stephanie Barron Page A

avoided the Inquest?
    A stab of doubt, akin to the warning note that had sounded in my brain at Miller’s Dale, coursed through my blood. Mr. Hemming was
not
to be suspected of murder. He was too much the gentleman, and too much my cousin’s old friend. Besides, there had been a gentleness in all his ways—an ease of manner—that was utterly at variance with violence. That ease had fled instantly once the maid’s body was discovered. Why was the solicitor determined to act as one burdened by guilt?
    “Mr. Hemming! I call Mr. George Hemming!”
    The stir of speculation throughout the room was considerable. Lacking a gavel, Mr. Tivey hammered upon the table with the flat of his broad palm. “Very well—then I call Mr. Edward Cooper, clergyman of Hams tall Ridware!”
    My cousin opened his mouth and began to sing.
    He made his way in stately procession to the head of the airless room, his eyes uplifted to the rafters, and his face beatified. The lowness of the public room’s ceiling rather spoiled the effect; but his strains carried into every available corner in a most gratifying way. I thought I should sink under the misery of Mr. Cooper’s example, but that I was a stranger to most of the observers present. He took his place in the witness’s chair, and gazed solemnly at the assembly as he concluded his first verse. I felt sure that he intended to go on with a second—he filled his lungs with air—but Mr. Tivey swooped down to administer the oath, and forestalled another chorus of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”
    In answer to the Coroner’s questions, Mr. Cooper related how he had retrieved the body in the company of the miller and his friend Mr. Hemming, and how our party had conveyed its sad burden into Bakewell. He made no mention of Mr. Hemming’s extreme reluctance to do so, and from this, I determined that my cousin was anxious on his friend’s behalf as well. Mr. Tivey addressed some further questions, regarding time elapsed between my discovery of the body, and its conveyance into Water Street; and then dismissed Mr. Cooper, who retreated to his seat in fulsome song.
    Mr. Tivey pounded upon his table.
    My cousin bowed his head in supplication, but happily ceased his caroling.
    Black brows drawn down over his harshly-graven features, Mr. Tivey paused to compose his thoughts.
    “As the surgeon called in attendance upon Deceased,” he informed the jury, “I proceeded to examine thecorpse. It is well known by now that my first discovery was an interesting one—namely, that Deceased was not a young gentleman of unknown origin, but a maidservant by the name of Tess Arnold—” At this, a murmur arose from the assembled townsfolk, more of satisfaction at having previously possessed the remarkable intelligence than any surprise at its publication. Mr. Tivey stared balefully at the crowd. He refused to speak further until the comment had subsided.
    “The maid Arnold belonged to Penfolds Hall, the estate of Mr. Charles Danforth, near Tideswell. It will be observed that Tideswell is little over a mile north of Miller’s Dale, an easy enough distance for an accomplished walker.
    “Deceased had suffered grievous harm. As the previous witnesses have described, her tongue was cut out and her entrails torn from her body. It is my opinion, however, that these dreadful wounds were inflicted
after
death.”
    This had the power to surprise me; and it spurred a further wave of murmuring in Jacob Patter’s inn. Few in Bakewell had known the Coroner’s judgement, it would seem. Mr. Tivey’s dark eyes glittered with satisfaction.
    “The blood observed to be congealed in such amounts did not flow directly from the mouth or abdomen—although the marks of blood were on them—but from the wound to the head created by the lead ball. The shot, I believe, was fired from a fowling piece at some remove from Deceased. From the condition of the body when I viewed it at one o’clock Tuesday, I should judge the girl was