Chapter 11: A Small Matter of Concern
Abigail noticed her husband was better spirits these days. He wasn't his usual brooding self, even going as far as wishing the servants 'good morning' and 'good afternoon', and smiling at her when he could. She meant to ask him what had prompted such a shift, but that was before Deputy Cromwell paid her a visit that summer afternoon.
"Begging your pardons, Mrs. Quincy," Cromwell moped some sweat from his forehead and scrubbed his hand through his rather unruly hair. "I meant to come sooner, but your husband told me to stall as long as possible."
"Stall?" Abigail asked sharply. "Stall what? What is this?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, ma'am, just a few follow up questions is all."
"Follow up questions?" Abigail raised an eyebrow and adjusted her shawl. "Of what nature?"
Cromwell shifted his feet a bit before clearing his throat and lowering his nose to a small writing pad. "Your husband and I inspected Denning's old shed, as you suggested to him."
"Yes, he told me you found something," she felt her heart racing, though, because there was the small matter of Arthur possibly telling them. It could be easily denied, for sure, but that man mouthing off was the last thing she needed.
"Aye, and thank you for giving us that lead."
"But?"
"But it's only a small matter of concern, you see," Cromwell cleared his throat. "Your husband may have overlooked this, seeing as you are his wife and his first priority, but this case is mine, and I must be candid with such concerns."
"And those concerns would be...?"
"How did you know to look in the shed, Mrs. Quincy?" Cromwell asked, keeping his voice as neutral and polite as possible. "I cannot assume that you were simply wandering about in the woods and happened by it that way."
"No," Abigail icily. "You cannot."
"Then how did you know about the shed?"
Abigail paused for a moment, remembering when Arthur had told her about it years ago. They had spent a night there, but she knew that could not be her answer. As it was, she had sent her husband to the shed in the hopes that he would find Arthur there. She wanted to be rid of him, not have his memories dogging her skirts!
"I thought it was common knowledge," Abigail finally said, turning up her nose. "There is not a nook or cranny of Lanfore that John isn't aware of, and I've heard talk of the old shed many times, I figured he knew of it already."
"Forgive me, Mrs. Quincy, but old Denning building a shed by the river was hardly common knowledge. I didn't even know of it. And his son is a blacksmith. What use would he have with a shed?"
"How am I to know why? And as for it not being common knowledge, well, I thought it was, deputy, my mistake, that was how I learned of it," Abigail folded her hands in front of her. "Anything else?"
"Common knowledge, eh?" Cromwell didn't look convinced.
"Common knowledge," Abigail said once again. "And if the shed is not that, then I am perhaps more informed than the rest of such things, and happen to remember such small and insignificant details, yes, at the most opportune times. If that is all," she gestured to the door, "my footman will see you out."
"That is all, indeed," Cromwell looked at her over his bushy eyebrows, "for now."
"Excuse me?"
"Unless I am given a reason otherwise, I must consider you a... Well..." He scratched the back of his head.
"Deputy Cromwell," Abigail stepped forward, her blue eyes like ice, "are you insinuating that I am a suspect in the Arthur Denning case?"
"Deputies rarely insinuate, so I will leave you to answer that. Good day, ma'am," Cromwell bowed and turned to walk towards the door. "I will be seeing you soon."
With that, he strolled down the stairs and across the foyer, whistling as he went. Abigail rushed to the railings overlooking the foyer to watch him go, and scowled hatefully when he turned one more time to wave at her. She huffed and turned away as the doors shut behind him, and she spat out a foul curse that caused a few maids to pause and shoot her odd looks.
"Back to work, you simpering fools!" She snapped at them. Shrieking, they ran off, leaving Abigail standing there, furious.
I help that fool and this is what I get in return? A bloody investigation?!
Abigail was going to find her stupid, sham of a husband and strangle him for all he was worth. She needed to be rid of Arthur as soon as possible, before he ruined everything with his lovesick charade!
XXX
George Boatwright left his study that day with the intention of taking his daily walk. He had expected his wife to intercept him, as she usually did, but this time she wasn't about the halls. Though he found that odd, he went about his business as usual. A walk in the gardens did well cleared his mind.
But as he stepped around towards the double stairs, he nearly ran smack into Malia, who was carrying an armful of sheets.
"Oh!" Malia jumped back, as though stung by a bee. "Mr. Boatwright! Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry!"
Frazzled, George quickly shook his head and smiled. "No, no, Malia, it's quite all right, I was not watching where I was going."
"No, it's my fault," Malia adjusted the sheets in her arms. "Is there anything you need?"
"No, my dear, just a spot of fresh air," George frowned at her. "You seem flushed, are you ill?"
"What?" Malia placed a hand on her cheek. "No, sir. I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You do seem a touch pale."
"I'm fine," she said again. "Really, sir. I hope you have a good walk, I will ask Jane to bring the afternoon tea to your study."
George observed the girl for a moment. Yes, she did seem a touch flushed, but not in the ill sort of way. She looked... Happily flushed? Humiliated? How could he tell? He had never seen such an expression on the girl's face. She was always smiling softly or guarding her emotions. Here she seemed... Open?
"Sir?" Malia frowned and observed him. "Sir... Do you not want your tea?"
"What?" He grimaced. "Of course. Yes, leave it in my... Study."
"Yes sir," she smiled broadly and curtsied. "Enjoy your walk."
With that, she scurried away, sheets still in her arms. He watched her go, a thoughtful frown on his face, before shaking his head and going about his own way.
He needed to stop over thinking; perhaps she was just in a good mood. Hell, the girl deserved it after everything she had been through. But what would warrant such a good mood? What turn of events?
For some reason, he found that he needed to know what it was. This girl... Well, she was his debt to his friend, wasn't she? If there was something the matter with her, something that was bothering her, it was his priority to know. She was his responsibility after all. She worked in his house, and he had promised her father a better life for her in England, so it was his responsibility to make sure that happened.
Still, if there was nothing pressing as of the moment, he supposed he could let it slide. After all, it was only a small matter of concern. But he made a mental note to keep an eye on Malia from now on, at least a stronger one than before. Mary had told in small detail about him what happened the night of the ball, with Abigail Quincy.
Was that troubling Malia still?
George considered leaving word with the Magistrate to keep a keen eye on his wife... But dare he? That would insult the man for sure.
George stepped outside and let the fresh summer breeze blow over him as he made for the garden path. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind, it always did.
XXX
"I'm afraid I may have been a tad too obvious with Mr. Boatwright today."
John frowned and looked at Malia, who was sitting next to him and curling a lock of loose hair around her finger while thoughtfully staring off to the distance. "What do you mean, love?"
"I ran into him while I was doing my chores today," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I may have appeared... Well, too happy. More happy than I usually am, that's for sure."
John felt his heart soar upon hearing those words, for he had so feared that she was worrying too much to find happiness in their nightly escapades. The thought of him making her happy... Well, it was enough to reassure him, if only in the smallest way.
Still, he saw her concerns and snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. "Perhaps it would be safe to make our meetings less frequent then, if he has cause to suspect."
Those words tasted like vinegar in his mouth, for the breaks between their meetings was already torture enough for him but, to keep her safe, he would do anything, even promise-no, swear on his life-to let her be, even though that would kill him.
"It's only a small matter of concern," Malia said. "But I agree, perhaps that's what we... What we should do."
John hated seeing that frown on her face, even though he knew they were doing the right thing. If he had had his way, he would have found means to let George Boatwright give her over to him so she could work at his house and he could have her close to him always. But then that would call for an adjustment on Malia's part, and he was not sure if he wanted to put her through that, not after she had gone through so much to make herself at home at Dawn-Bridge. Also, there was the matter of Abigail to consider. The woman would abuse Malia greatly, that was for sure. He would sooner saw his own arm off than have Abigail anywhere near Malia.
"So..." He cleared his throat and maneuvered her so she was seated on his lap, facing him. "You were that happy, then?"
Sensing his attempts to change the mood, Malia smiled and nodded. "I was. I am."
"Good, I'm glad," he reached forward and touched the necklace he had given her, which sat neatly above the valley of her breasts. "You wear this well."
"I can't wear it daily, or someone would suspect that I nicked it from the jeweler's," she sighed. "But I figured wearing it for you is enough, right?"
He nodded. "It is, Malia, it's more than enough."
With that, he pulled to him so he could kiss her. When they parted, though, mere minutes later, she was grasping his shoulders in an attempt to stay put.
"Until you're ready," he assured her. "There is no need to rush, love."
She didn't look convinced. "But I don't want to keep you waiting too long."
"For you, Malia, I will suffice waiting a lifetime."
With that, he leaned in to kiss her again, in an attempt to get her mind off such small, troublesome matters.
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Author's note: Thank you for reading! Apologies, we know this chapter was a tad short.
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