Chapter Seven
"Did you amuse yourself last night?" Lady Russell inquired at breakfast.
"It was a good idea to go and to be distracted. I hope you enjoyed it too. It is not your favourite sort of engagement."
"Oh, once in a while I do not mind making a concession. And," she lowered her voice. "I make concessions more often, though you may not know. There were some older people to talk to. Did you hear about Charles Hayter's prospects? Although I suspect his mother talked more about those than he did."
"True," Anne smiled. Mrs Hayter had indeed mentioned it. "I heard it from her. He never said a word."
"He was too busy sizing up the competition."
"Surely his understanding with Henrietta is not in danger?" She was more hopeful than certain, for it was understandable that either the captain or the baronet appeared more attractive at the moment, but in the long run they would not suit.
Lady Russell shrugged. "I do not know, but last evening he was certainly not very interesting to her. Henrietta danced with him only once."
"I did not really pay attention," she lied, although she knew Henrietta had danced twice with Captain Wentworth. She should not have noticed that. He had danced five times: twice with Henrietta, twice with Louisa and once with one of their cousins, who was probably young enough to be his daughter. Had she been sizing up the competition as well?
Poseidon was waiting. He always was. She was so unimaginative that she had not been able to think of another place to meet, even if Sir William always crept up on her there. She had her book ready and she sat there at eleven. Hopefully Sir William would not be the first to show up.
But it was Captain Wentworth who did.
"What did you ask the maid?" Anne inquired, so she would not think of the old days when he had met her here. That had nothing to do with today; it could ruin everything. "What do you think she could know?"
He remained on his feet. Perhaps he too thought that sitting down would remind him of too much. "Servants know everything. She will know, for example, whether Mrs Clay was generous with her favours."
"What does that mean precisely?" She did not want to sound ignorant, but she also did not want to misunderstand him and lose her position as his equal. It was not quite that yet, but it was close enough.
Captain Wentworth looked around himself. He did not want to be overheard. Or perhaps he did not know how to phrase the delicate question. "Did she favour anyone with special attention? Like Sir William? Or Sir Walter, for that matter?"
"He would never! He always mentioned her teeth and her freckles." Anne could not believe it, whatever it might mean. Well, Mrs Clay might have been extremely attentive to her father, but the captain implied a degree of reciprocality and Anne had never noticed anything of the sort.
"Men," said the captain and he seemed to struggle for words even more clearly. "They can be distracted by other qualities."
"Character?" She tried, but she did not think he meant that.
"No, not character. Physical qualities."
"Freckles."
"Lower."
Lower? Anne gave him a wry smile when she recalled Mrs Clay always leaning forward. "Oh, that."
"She possessed one of those other qualities."
"In ample supply."
He looked relieved to find she understood. "Yes, that one exactly."
"But not my father." Anne spoke decidedly, even though she had always been afraid of exactly that.
"But he did appreciate the human body. He had statues all over the park." He gave Poseidon a pointed look and then leant against the foot of the statue.
"Those are godly bodies and he appreciated them because they are more beautiful than humans, I should think." But in reality she was merely supposing.
Captain Wentworth appeared to disagree, for he gave Poseidon a doubtful inspection. "Mind you," he then said, "we looked at 'the other man', but we completely forgot to consider the opposite."
"Mrs Clay could have been killed by 'the other woman', the wife of a lover?" In that case they would definitely be looking outside the Hall. Anne wished it could be true. If only it could be someone she did not know!
"Exactly. I do not know why I never thought of this before. Perhaps we were so focused on the men she might have been meeting, but women can be vicious as well. I do not underestimate women, you know."
Anne was not so sure.
"But I really have no idea where else to look at the moment. Perhaps the maid can shed some light on the matter."
"I will speak to her," Anne said. "She may tell me something; she knows me."
Anne walked to the Hall and asked to speak to Martha. The maid appeared with a nervous look, evidently afraid she would not finish her work. Anne could reassure her. "I shall not keep you long, Martha, but there are some things I should like to ask you. Which bad things can you tell me about Mrs Clay?"
Martha was astonished at being asked such a question.
Anne thought she might be afraid of the consequences. "Do not tell anyone I asked you. If they ask what I wanted, tell them I asked about your mother and if she would appreciate a basket."
"Yes, Miss." Martha was still a long way from understanding why Miss Elliot, of all people, wanted her to speak ill of the dead. Miss Elliot was known for being all that was good and correct.
"Now, about Mrs Clay..."
"You are not the first to ask."
"Captain Wentworth?"
Martha blushed. "Yes, him. He offered me money. I did not take it. I do not trust men who offer me money."
"Quite right, Martha," Anne said encouragingly. "I think he only wanted information, however. Or has he bothered you?" She felt a sudden fear, but it could not be. He would hardly ask her to question a maid he had bothered, because then it would all come out.
"No, Miss, not him. I was afraid I had got that wrong when he offered me money."
"Now, Mrs Clay..."
"I think she liked being bothered," Martha said cautiously. She was still not entirely convinced that she could really say something bad about the woman. "Her door was wide open for men with money."
"Was there anyone particular in the house she invited in?"
"Everyone but the admiral, I should think."
"The captain too?" Anne tried to keep her face impassive. She did not want it to be so.
"She tried. I'm quite sure she did. I don't know if it worked."
That was not much of a relief, but she did not want to ask any more about him in case she heard something unsettling. "Sir William?"
"I think so. It was already before the captain arrived, so it must have been him if it wasn't the admiral."
"And you are very sure it was not the admiral?" Anne asked to be certain. She could not believe it of him either.
"He couldn't marry her. He has Mrs Croft."
"Was there anyone else?"
"Someone -- or more -- outside the house. Her shoes were sometimes wet in the morning, so she must have been out. I never asked. That is not my place."
"Thank you, Martha. You have been very helpful," Anne said thoughtfully. The wet shoes were important. It was interesting that Martha had immediately assumed that Mrs Clay must have been meeting a man. "I shall send your mother a basket."
The conversation had only taken a few minutes. Martha's mother had been poorly for a while. It was easily checked if anyone cared to ask what Miss Elliot had come to do.
She would have bubbled with excitement if there had not been the uncertainty about Captain Wentworth, who might or might not have used what Mrs Clay had offered. She would not like it if he had.
Given that Mrs Clay had regularly gone out during the night, one would say this had something to do with her death. Either the man she had presumably gone to meet, or someone jealous of him, could have been involved.
What could there be to be jealous of, however? Anne did not exactly know. It was more logical for a man outside to be jealous of a man inside. Could that still work? Yes, it could, if the man outside had discovered she was also dallying with a man inside -- assuming the men inside were wealthier and of higher rank. A man might not like being jilted in favour of a baronet. But the baronet might also not like sharing his mistress with a local shopkeeper and the like.
"You look so serious," Mrs Croft said all of a sudden. "Is anything the matter?"
"Oh, the usual," Anne said, trying to speak lightly. She was taken aback by Mrs Croft's sudden appearance, because she had thought she was all alone. "There is so much to think of these days. Are you nearly rid of your guests?"
"Did you notice a spring in my step?"
"Actually, I did not notice you approach at all."
"I have learnt to move silently through my own home to avoid everyone," Mrs Croft said jokingly.
"I am glad you did not avoid me."
Mrs Croft smiled and took her by the arm. They went to a small office where Mrs Croft did her accounts. Here Anne was made to sit. "Anne, now tell me what you are up to."
"Up to?" Anne was a little taken aback at her tone.
"Yes, you are extremely interested in Mrs Clay's death."
"I am?" So this was what being called in by the headmistress felt like. It had never happened to her at school, but she had heard about it from girls who had got into scrapes. They were called into the office and they were put in a chair.
Mrs Croft sat on the desk with her arms crossed and stared hard at her. "This is the second time you came into this house unannounced to...do things."
"I do not have anything to tell you," Anne squeaked. The admiral himself had assured her she was welcome to come in at any time. Mrs Croft now seemed to disapprove. She was confused.
"You left me a note that I have yet to answer, because I could not figure out your purpose. It is true that that hussy tried to seduce the admiral," Mrs Croft remarked in a steely voice. "But a few words from me put an end to that. I had no reason to kill her."
If Mrs Croft had had that same look in her eyes, Anne could well believe that Mrs Clay had given up. Anyone would give up when faced with the formidable figure of Mrs Croft. "Did you also not hire your brother to do it?" She shrunk after she had spoken. Mrs Croft would have her flogged.
Mrs Croft considered that question. She took her time, perhaps to prevent herself from indeed calling a servant to flog Anne. "Do you not think me capable of handling my own affairs?"
"I do, Madam."
Mrs Croft put on a high, helpless voice. "Frederick, please come and kill this woman who showed herself to James in her shift."
Anne said nothing. If she had not been so subdued she might have laughed. Now she could not. She was only regretting that she had spoken.
"The whole idea is as preposterous as appearing before the admiral in a state of undress."
It probably was, Anne conceded. Mrs Croft frightened her. Beyond a doubt she was eminently capable of handling her own affairs.
"The admiral was not impressed," Mrs Croft continued.
"I never thought he would be," Anne said, still in a little squeak. "He is devoted to you."
"Yes, my dear, he is impressed by me in a shift, not by some hussy."
Anne crawled as deep into the chair as possible. She wanted to hide. "I never thought you could not handle your own affairs and I certainly never though you had shoved Mrs Clay into the pond." But then she found enough strength to walk out before she could reveal that she had come here to ask Martha if the admiral -- among others -- had ever taken the hussy's bait.
"Did you amuse yourself last night?" Lady Russell inquired at breakfast.
"It was a good idea to go and to be distracted. I hope you enjoyed it too. It is not your favourite sort of engagement."
"Oh, once in a while I do not mind making a concession. And," she lowered her voice. "I make concessions more often, though you may not know. There were some older people to talk to. Did you hear about Charles Hayter's prospects? Although I suspect his mother talked more about those than he did."
"True," Anne smiled. Mrs Hayter had indeed mentioned it. "I heard it from her. He never said a word."
"He was too busy sizing up the competition."
"Surely his understanding with Henrietta is not in danger?" She was more hopeful than certain, for it was understandable that either the captain or the baronet appeared more attractive at the moment, but in the long run they would not suit.
Lady Russell shrugged. "I do not know, but last evening he was certainly not very interesting to her. Henrietta danced with him only once."
"I did not really pay attention," she lied, although she knew Henrietta had danced twice with Captain Wentworth. She should not have noticed that. He had danced five times: twice with Henrietta, twice with Louisa and once with one of their cousins, who was probably young enough to be his daughter. Had she been sizing up the competition as well?
Poseidon was waiting. He always was. She was so unimaginative that she had not been able to think of another place to meet, even if Sir William always crept up on her there. She had her book ready and she sat there at eleven. Hopefully Sir William would not be the first to show up.
But it was Captain Wentworth who did.
"What did you ask the maid?" Anne inquired, so she would not think of the old days when he had met her here. That had nothing to do with today; it could ruin everything. "What do you think she could know?"
He remained on his feet. Perhaps he too thought that sitting down would remind him of too much. "Servants know everything. She will know, for example, whether Mrs Clay was generous with her favours."
"What does that mean precisely?" She did not want to sound ignorant, but she also did not want to misunderstand him and lose her position as his equal. It was not quite that yet, but it was close enough.
Captain Wentworth looked around himself. He did not want to be overheard. Or perhaps he did not know how to phrase the delicate question. "Did she favour anyone with special attention? Like Sir William? Or Sir Walter, for that matter?"
"He would never! He always mentioned her teeth and her freckles." Anne could not believe it, whatever it might mean. Well, Mrs Clay might have been extremely attentive to her father, but the captain implied a degree of reciprocality and Anne had never noticed anything of the sort.
"Men," said the captain and he seemed to struggle for words even more clearly. "They can be distracted by other qualities."
"Character?" She tried, but she did not think he meant that.
"No, not character. Physical qualities."
"Freckles."
"Lower."
Lower? Anne gave him a wry smile when she recalled Mrs Clay always leaning forward. "Oh, that."
"She possessed one of those other qualities."
"In ample supply."
He looked relieved to find she understood. "Yes, that one exactly."
"But not my father." Anne spoke decidedly, even though she had always been afraid of exactly that.
"But he did appreciate the human body. He had statues all over the park." He gave Poseidon a pointed look and then leant against the foot of the statue.
"Those are godly bodies and he appreciated them because they are more beautiful than humans, I should think." But in reality she was merely supposing.
Captain Wentworth appeared to disagree, for he gave Poseidon a doubtful inspection. "Mind you," he then said, "we looked at 'the other man', but we completely forgot to consider the opposite."
"Mrs Clay could have been killed by 'the other woman', the wife of a lover?" In that case they would definitely be looking outside the Hall. Anne wished it could be true. If only it could be someone she did not know!
"Exactly. I do not know why I never thought of this before. Perhaps we were so focused on the men she might have been meeting, but women can be vicious as well. I do not underestimate women, you know."
Anne was not so sure.
"But I really have no idea where else to look at the moment. Perhaps the maid can shed some light on the matter."
"I will speak to her," Anne said. "She may tell me something; she knows me."
Anne walked to the Hall and asked to speak to Martha. The maid appeared with a nervous look, evidently afraid she would not finish her work. Anne could reassure her. "I shall not keep you long, Martha, but there are some things I should like to ask you. Which bad things can you tell me about Mrs Clay?"
Martha was astonished at being asked such a question.
Anne thought she might be afraid of the consequences. "Do not tell anyone I asked you. If they ask what I wanted, tell them I asked about your mother and if she would appreciate a basket."
"Yes, Miss." Martha was still a long way from understanding why Miss Elliot, of all people, wanted her to speak ill of the dead. Miss Elliot was known for being all that was good and correct.
"Now, about Mrs Clay..."
"You are not the first to ask."
"Captain Wentworth?"
Martha blushed. "Yes, him. He offered me money. I did not take it. I do not trust men who offer me money."
"Quite right, Martha," Anne said encouragingly. "I think he only wanted information, however. Or has he bothered you?" She felt a sudden fear, but it could not be. He would hardly ask her to question a maid he had bothered, because then it would all come out.
"No, Miss, not him. I was afraid I had got that wrong when he offered me money."
"Now, Mrs Clay..."
"I think she liked being bothered," Martha said cautiously. She was still not entirely convinced that she could really say something bad about the woman. "Her door was wide open for men with money."
"Was there anyone particular in the house she invited in?"
"Everyone but the admiral, I should think."
"The captain too?" Anne tried to keep her face impassive. She did not want it to be so.
"She tried. I'm quite sure she did. I don't know if it worked."
That was not much of a relief, but she did not want to ask any more about him in case she heard something unsettling. "Sir William?"
"I think so. It was already before the captain arrived, so it must have been him if it wasn't the admiral."
"And you are very sure it was not the admiral?" Anne asked to be certain. She could not believe it of him either.
"He couldn't marry her. He has Mrs Croft."
"Was there anyone else?"
"Someone -- or more -- outside the house. Her shoes were sometimes wet in the morning, so she must have been out. I never asked. That is not my place."
"Thank you, Martha. You have been very helpful," Anne said thoughtfully. The wet shoes were important. It was interesting that Martha had immediately assumed that Mrs Clay must have been meeting a man. "I shall send your mother a basket."
The conversation had only taken a few minutes. Martha's mother had been poorly for a while. It was easily checked if anyone cared to ask what Miss Elliot had come to do.
She would have bubbled with excitement if there had not been the uncertainty about Captain Wentworth, who might or might not have used what Mrs Clay had offered. She would not like it if he had.
Given that Mrs Clay had regularly gone out during the night, one would say this had something to do with her death. Either the man she had presumably gone to meet, or someone jealous of him, could have been involved.
What could there be to be jealous of, however? Anne did not exactly know. It was more logical for a man outside to be jealous of a man inside. Could that still work? Yes, it could, if the man outside had discovered she was also dallying with a man inside -- assuming the men inside were wealthier and of higher rank. A man might not like being jilted in favour of a baronet. But the baronet might also not like sharing his mistress with a local shopkeeper and the like.
"You look so serious," Mrs Croft said all of a sudden. "Is anything the matter?"
"Oh, the usual," Anne said, trying to speak lightly. She was taken aback by Mrs Croft's sudden appearance, because she had thought she was all alone. "There is so much to think of these days. Are you nearly rid of your guests?"
"Did you notice a spring in my step?"
"Actually, I did not notice you approach at all."
"I have learnt to move silently through my own home to avoid everyone," Mrs Croft said jokingly.
"I am glad you did not avoid me."
Mrs Croft smiled and took her by the arm. They went to a small office where Mrs Croft did her accounts. Here Anne was made to sit. "Anne, now tell me what you are up to."
"Up to?" Anne was a little taken aback at her tone.
"Yes, you are extremely interested in Mrs Clay's death."
"I am?" So this was what being called in by the headmistress felt like. It had never happened to her at school, but she had heard about it from girls who had got into scrapes. They were called into the office and they were put in a chair.
Mrs Croft sat on the desk with her arms crossed and stared hard at her. "This is the second time you came into this house unannounced to...do things."
"I do not have anything to tell you," Anne squeaked. The admiral himself had assured her she was welcome to come in at any time. Mrs Croft now seemed to disapprove. She was confused.
"You left me a note that I have yet to answer, because I could not figure out your purpose. It is true that that hussy tried to seduce the admiral," Mrs Croft remarked in a steely voice. "But a few words from me put an end to that. I had no reason to kill her."
If Mrs Croft had had that same look in her eyes, Anne could well believe that Mrs Clay had given up. Anyone would give up when faced with the formidable figure of Mrs Croft. "Did you also not hire your brother to do it?" She shrunk after she had spoken. Mrs Croft would have her flogged.
Mrs Croft considered that question. She took her time, perhaps to prevent herself from indeed calling a servant to flog Anne. "Do you not think me capable of handling my own affairs?"
"I do, Madam."
Mrs Croft put on a high, helpless voice. "Frederick, please come and kill this woman who showed herself to James in her shift."
Anne said nothing. If she had not been so subdued she might have laughed. Now she could not. She was only regretting that she had spoken.
"The whole idea is as preposterous as appearing before the admiral in a state of undress."
It probably was, Anne conceded. Mrs Croft frightened her. Beyond a doubt she was eminently capable of handling her own affairs.
"The admiral was not impressed," Mrs Croft continued.
"I never thought he would be," Anne said, still in a little squeak. "He is devoted to you."
"Yes, my dear, he is impressed by me in a shift, not by some hussy."
Anne crawled as deep into the chair as possible. She wanted to hide. "I never thought you could not handle your own affairs and I certainly never though you had shoved Mrs Clay into the pond." But then she found enough strength to walk out before she could reveal that she had come here to ask Martha if the admiral -- among others -- had ever taken the hussy's bait.