“Ah, but the fact that your father was hired to start the fire is not so well known, is it?”
“How did you—?”
Her smile turned sly. “There is very little that goes on in Creswell that I do not know about.”
“Then you know who hired him.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She shrugged. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Life is not as simple as it seems, Rachel.” She paused to straighten a porcelain poodle on a what-not shelf that hadn’t been dusted for days, possibly weeks. “You’ve always had your nose in a book, filling your head with unrealistic expectations. You have zealously supported any cause you deem worthy, while innocently missing the subtler changes that have taken place here in our small village. If you are not careful you will find yourself in serious trouble.”
“Are you trying to frighten me?” Rachel couldn’t have been more surprised.
She chuckled. “I am trying to warn you not to get caught in the tug-of-war between the miners and the earl.”
Rachel felt caught already. “But I have always been on the miners’ side.”
“Like your father before you. But where your loyalties really lie is unimportant. It is where they are perceived to lie that counts.”
“What are you saying?”
“That some of the miners might harm you if they think you have become too sympathetic to the earl.”
“Harm me?” Rachel couldn’t believe her ears. “What could I do that would threaten anyone? I am just one person, and a woman at that.”
“Never underestimate your power as a woman. The miners won’t. That’s exactly what has them nervous. But it isn’t as complicated as all that. Someone set fire to the earl’s manse and killed his wife. He is determined to get to the bottom of it. His digging is threatening the labor movement. If he finds out who the leaders are, he could quell the uprising before it happens. Many men would lose their jobs and all the ground that the unionizers have worked so hard to gain will be lost. It could take years to recover from such a blow.”
This was sounding familiar. “You have been talking to Mr. Cutberth.”
“Among others.”
“He comes here?” Rachel found that rather ironic, after hearing him profess his love for his wife and children and all his lofty ideals.
“Oh, how innocent you are, Rachel.” Elspeth shook her head, and Rachel imagined it was with some disgust.
“But there is more, isn’t there?” Rachel asked. “I can’t believe you care so much about the union.”
“Only so far as it affects me. There is still a murderer on the loose, don’t forget.”
“Surely that doesn’t affect you.”
“It affects me in the same way it affects you.”
Rachel watched Elspeth cross to the window. If her bearings were correct, the other woman was looking out on a narrow alley, one filled with trash, judging by the surrounding neighborhood.
“You know who did it,” Rachel said. “You know who fired Blackmoor Hall.”
Elspeth didn’t answer right away. Finally, frowning, she said, “I have my suspicions, and my reasons for them.”
“And you think I know something about that day, too, because of my father, and the money.”
Elspeth looked back. “Isn’t that what anyone would think who hears about the money?”
“The fire happened two years ago. If whoever set it is concerned about what I know, why haven’t there been problems before?”
“Maybe there was reason to believe you would hold your tongue.”
“And now, whoever it is, fears I will talk?”
“Have you given anyone reason to believe you might?”
Rachel wanted to scream. First Druridge and now Elspeth. How could she tell something she didn’t know? “No!” she said, but all she could think about was her two treks to Blackmoor Hall. The earl appearing at her mother’s funeral. Wythe telling everyone she and the earl were intimate.
No wonder the unionizers were worried. If the murderer was among them, they had more to fear than being sacked. They could be hanged as accomplices.
The absurd thing was that everyone seemed to know more than she did.
“The union protects its own,” Rachel said. “Is that what you are trying to tell me?”
“Now you’ve got it,” Elspeth replied. “’Tis best to let sleeping dogs lie. That’s the way I choose to think about it.”
“I thought I was one of the miners, part of the community.” Rachel heard the wistfulness in her own voice but didn’t have it in her to hide the hurt.
Elspeth’s expression softened. “Some lessons are harder than others. The good news is that you can still protect the miners and yourself, if you want.”
Rachel waited for Elspeth to explain, but she didn’t. “You’re suggesting I do what Cutberth wants,” she said, finally realizing what Elspeth had been getting at all along.
“Yes. Tell Druridge your father caused the fire. That would put an end to everything.”
“Then Wythe would take back the lies he’s spreading about me?”
Elspeth’s painted eyebrows shot up. “Wythe?” she scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing,” Rachel admitted.
“Just do what Cutberth told you. That would go far enough toward proving your loyalty.”
Perhaps it would, Rachel silently conceded. But something inside her rebelled at the idea of letting Cutberth or anyone else blackmail her into lying to the earl. To her, the end did not justify the means. Especially when, in her heart, misleading Druridge didn’t feel noble or good.
It felt more like betrayal.
Chapter 8
Rachel shivered against a strong northern gale. The walk to Blackmoor Hall had taken longer than she’d expected because the wind kept pressing her back. Good thing she wasn’t in a hurry. She’d closed the bookshop for the rest of the week. Lately so many of the great houses that used to order from her mother were getting their books from London, where they could choose from a much wider variety. Thanks to that and the recent damage to her reputation, not a single soul had stopped by, to browse or to buy, in several days—since she’d visited Elspeth. Even those with reading lessons had canceled.
She’d cleaned the cottage, lovingly tucked away her mother’s possessions, and would have busied herself making stew or something else for supper—anything to avoid this errand—but the food was gone.