The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(70)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

He was in the lead when he rounded the corner and stopped short. Plants as tall as a man grew in the boggy ground behind the cottage. They had delicate, branching fronds, and some still bore flat seed heads.

Water hemlock. “Jesus,” Bennet breathed. He’d come around Harry, but it wasn’t the plants he looked at.

Harry followed the direction of his gaze and saw that the entire back wall of the cottage was gone. From one of the remaining rafters a rope was tied and a pathetic bundle dangled at its end.

Janie Crumb had hung herself.

Chapter Nineteen

“She didn’t know what she was doing.” Dick Crumb sat with his back against the decayed stone of the cottage. He still wore his stained tavern apron, and one hand clutched a crumpled handkerchief.

Harry looked at Janie’s body, swaying only feet away from where her brother sat. Her neck was grotesquely elongated, and her blackened tongue protruded from swollen lips.

Nothing could be done for Janie Crumb now. “She was never right, poor lass, not after what he did to her,” Dick continued.

How long had he been sitting there? “She used to slip away at night. Wander the fields. Maybe do other things I didn’t want to know about.” Dick shook his head. “It took me a while to realize she might be up to something else. And then Mistress Pollard died.” Dick looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelids reddened. “She came in after they took you, Harry. She was wild, her hair all flying away. Said she hadn’t done it. Hadn’t killed Mistress Pollard like she killed the sheep. Was calling Lord Granville the devil and cursing him.” The big man knit his brows like a puzzled little boy. “She said Lord Granville killed old woman Pollard. Janie was crazy. Just plum crazy.”

“I know,” Harry said.

Dick Crumb nodded, as if relieved by his agreement. “I didn’t know what to do. She was my little sister, crazy or no.” He wiped the dome of his head with a shaking hand. “The only family I had left. My baby sister. I loved her, Harry!”

The body on the rope seemed to twist in horrible reply. “So I did nothing. And last night, when I heard that she’d fired the Granville stables, I came a running down here. The old place had always been her hidey-hole. Don’t know what I would’ve done. Only I found her like this.” He threw his hands out to the corpse as if in prayer. “Like this. I’m so sorry.” The big man began to cry, great heaving sobs that shook his shoulders.

Harry looked away. What could one do in the face of such overwhelming grief?

“You have no reason to apologize, Mr. Crumb,” Bennet spoke from beside Harry.

Dick raised his head. Snot shone beneath his nose. “The blame lies with my father, not you.” Bennet nodded curtly and walked back around the cottage.

Harry took out his knife. Dragging a chair over beneath the corpse, he climbed up and cut the rope. Janie slumped, suddenly freed from her self-imposed punishment. He caught the body and gently lowered her to the ground. As he did so, he felt something small and hard fall out of Janie’s pocket. He bent to look and saw one of his own carvings: a duck. Quickly, he palmed the little bird. Had Janie been placing his carvings at the poisonings all along? Why? Had she meant to set him against Granville? Perhaps she’d seen Harry as her instrument of revenge. Harry darted a glance at Dick, but the older man was simply staring into the face of his dead sister. It would only grieve Dick further to tell him Janie had meant for Harry to take the blame for her crimes. Harry pocketed the duck.

“Ta, Harry,” Dick said. He took off his apron and covered his sister’s distorted face.

“I’m sorry.” Harry laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Dick nodded, grief overtaking him again.

Harry turned to join Bennet. The last sight he had of Dick Crumb was the big man bending, a mountain of sorrow, over the slight form of his sister’s body.

Behind them, the water hemlocks danced gracefully.

“THERE CERTAINLY HAS BEEN a lot of traveling of late,” Euphie murmured, smiling benignly around the carriage. “Back and forth between Yorkshire and London. Why, it seems that everyone barely draws breath before they rush off again. I don’t believe I remember so much coming and going since, well, since ever.”

Violet sighed, shook her head slightly, and gazed out the window. Tiggle, sitting with Violet, looked puzzled. And George, scrunched next to Euphie on the same seat, closed her eyes and gripped the tin basin she’d brought along just in case. I will not cast up. I will not cast up. I will not cast up.

The carriage lurched around the corner, jostling her against the rain-streaked window. She decided abruptly that her stomach was better with her eyes open.

“This is ridiculous,” Violet huffed, and folded her arms. “If you’re going to marry, anyway, I simply do not see what is wrong with Mr. Pye. He likes you, after all. I’m sure we can help him if he has trouble with his Hs.”

His Hs? “You were the one who thought he was a sheep murderer.” She was getting tired of the almost universal disapproval aimed at her head.

One would think Harry a veritable saint from the shocked reaction of her servants at her decampment. Even Greaves had stood on the Woldsly steps, the rain trickling off his long nose, staring mournfully at her as she climbed into the carriage.

“That was before,” Violet said with unarguable logic. “I haven’t thought him the poisoner for at least three weeks.”

“Oh, Lord.” “My lady,” Euphie exclaimed. “We should, as gentle-women, never take the good Lord’s name in vain. I am sure it was a mistake on your part.”

Violet stared at Euphie in exaggerated astonishment while beside her Tiggle rolled her eyes. George sighed and rested her head on the cushions.

“And besides, Mr. Pye is quite handsome.” Violet wasn’t going to let go of this argument. Ever. “For a land steward. You aren’t likely to find a nicer one.”

“Land steward or husband?” George asked nastily. “Are you contemplating marriage, my lady?” Euphie inquired. Her eyes opened wide, like an interested pigeon.

“No!” George said.

Which was almost drowned out by Violet’s “Yes!” Euphie blinked rapidly. “Marriage is a hallowed state, becoming to even the most respectable of ladies. Of course, I myself have never experienced that heavenly communion with a gentleman, but that is not to say that I do not wholeheartedly endorse its rites.”