“I did. I was out for a morning walk.”
“Did you see anyone else on this walk? Notice anything out of place?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. I did not.”
“And I understand you were acquainted with Mr. Longham. And the nature of that relationship?”
Her insides tightened, and the nausea that had plagued her ever since the discovery swelled. She flicked her gaze toward Mr. Warrington. She would have to share the details, she knew. All of them. He was a magistrate, for heaven’s sake. She could not lie. “I met Mr. Longham a short while ago, on this property. He said he was Mr. Clark’s solicitor.”
“And why did he want to talk to you?”
“He wanted to inform me that the late Mr. Clark was my father.”
Mr. Shepard’s bushy brows rose. “Robert Clark was your father?”
“Yes. According to Mr. Longham.”
Mr. Shepard scoffed. “And you saw fit to believe him?”
“Mr. Longham said he’d been searching for me for a few years, and we only just connected. He had every manner of paperwork in his possession. A custody agreement signed by my mother, school payment records, and the like. And I had a letter written to me by my father.”
Mr. Shepard turned toward Mr. Warrington. “Can you confirm any of this?”
Mr. Warrington nodded. “I can confirm that she did have a letter signed by Robert Clark. I saw it and I read it. I read a reference letter signed by the headmistress at the school where Miss Hale previously taught. Mr. Longham visited here, and he was clearly familiar with the property and the house. I have no reason not to believe anything that was said.”
Mr. Shepard returned his attention to her. “And I heard an account that you both spoke with Peter Clark yesterday.”
Cassandra’s already tense muscles tightened. “Yes. Mr. Longham and I went to his office to discuss the matter of my father’s will.”
“And?”
She was not sure what to divulge. “Peter Clark was quite angry.”
“What was he angry about? I presume he’s seen the will prior to this.”
“Yes, but he said he did not believe me to be Cassandra Hale, despite Mr. Longham’s insistence and proof.”
“I see. And this letter from Robert Clark? Do you have it?”
“It was destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Mr. Shepard jerked.
“Mr. Clark threw it in the fire.”
Mr. Shepard adjusted a satchel slung over his shoulder.
At first Cassandra thought very little of it, and then, as she looked at it closer, she noticed the initials embossed on the front. Surprise jolted through her. “Is that Mr. Longham’s satchel?”
Mr. Warrington nodded. “It was found by the body.”
Casandra’s heart gave a little leap in spite of herself. “All of my documentation should be in there. That is where he kept it.”
Mr. Shepard shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss. It was empty when we found it.”
The significance of his words showered over her, and she felt as if she’d been struck a blow. “B-but that’s not possible. I saw all of my papers in it just yesterday.”
Mr. Shepard extended it to her. “See for yourself.”
Hungrily she grabbed for it and flipped the flap open.
Mr. Shepard was right. It was empty.
Her ears rung noisily with frustration, distracting her as she tried to complete the puzzle in her mind. “But I don’t understand. Someone must have taken it.”
It didn’t make sense. Not any of it.
Their conversation was interrupted when Mrs. Towler entered the room. “Mr. Shepard. Thank goodness you’re here to make sense of this terrible tragedy. What have you learned?”
He bowed toward the older woman. “I have no specific answers yet, Mrs. Towler.”
“This is exasperating,” she cried. “How could this happen on our property?”
“That is what I intend to find out. Don’t worry. Bad deeds never go unpunished. Not on my watch.”
For once Cassandra was grateful for Mrs. Towler’s presence, to put an end to the questioning.
With a rusty smile Mr. Shepard bowed toward her and took the satchel back from her. “Thank you, Miss Hale. I’m truly sorry for what you have endured today.” He turned to Mr. Warrington. “Accompany me out, will you?”
The men bowed toward Cassandra, and she curtsied in response and watched as they departed.
* * *
As James and Shepard returned to the grounds, a fine, cold mist started to fall, shrouding the property in a filmy gray veil. But even so, the men who had gathered to help in the investigation continued with their search for any information on the circumstances of William Longham’s demise.
“How well do you know this young lady?” Shepard asked as they walked the path back toward the garden.
“Well enough to let her be the governess of my children.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Just over a month. It was the letter from Robert Clark she told you about that brought her to Briarton Park in the first place.”
“And how did she make the jump from searching for information to being your governess?”
James considered his answer. He would not lie, but he would not divulge his sister’s indiscretion either. “She needed employment and had appropriate references. My children took to her right away. It was a natural progression.”
James had always had a cordial relationship with Shepard, but now a thread of tension stretched between them. He could almost tell what the man was thinking, and he wanted to be clear. “You certainly don’t think she had anything to do with this, do you?”
Shepard clicked his tongue. “Unlikely. She’s a small person, and Longham would have towered over her. He was struck from the top, you know. With the nature of the injury, I don’t think she would have the physical strength for something like that. But you never know. More than likely it was a random attack, considering the activity with the weavers as of late, but my next call will be to Peter Clark, to be sure.”
James adjusted his hat to deflect the drizzle, but as he did, one man in particular caught his eye.
Mr. North was approaching.
It was appropriate that he was here. He should be here. After all, a man was dead and he was the vicar. But instead of heading toward the scene of the death, he was walking toward the house.
Mr. North took notice of them as he came up the path and lifted his hand in greeting. “Shepard. Warrington. What a horrible event this is.”
“It is,” responded Shepard. “Did you know Mr. Longham?”
North shrugged. “Never met him before in my life, poor soul. This sort of discovery in our parish is a terrible shock. I believe I heard that Miss Hale was the one to find him. Is that true?”
“She was.”
“I thought I might speak with her and offer some consolation. I can only imagine it was a harrowing event, especially for a woman of such a sensitive nature.”
James eyed him. It was not fitting to question a vicar’s motives, and yet he’d seen his behavior at the party. Nonetheless, James could not interfere. Not with this. “She’s inside, I believe. You’re welcome to go on in.”