the sound of your voice, as pure as poetry, aslilting as an Irish
tenor’s. Your laugh turns me giddy and one glancefrom your
sea-blue eyes is enough ambrosia to carry me throughan entire
week. O my precious and unattainable knight!
Your faithful admirer
Betsy
Cobb stared up at Edie. “You left this here onpurpose, didn’t you?”
Edie blushed, then looked coy. “So, I did. Ithought I ought to destroy it, but that wouldn’t’ve been right,would it?”
“No, I suppose not. But this is girlishdrivel, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know: I didn’t write it. But Itold you that Betsy was shy and a bit secretive.”
“You’re sayin’ she might’ve secretly been inlove with Uncle Seamus? The ‘precious knight’ in this letter? Puppylove, I’d say, wouldn’t you?”
Edie gave Cobb a scornful glance. “If she wasin love it was certainly hopeless. He never saw anythin’ in her,that’s fer sure.”
And yet, Cobb thought, she had deliberatelyleft the letter – unsent obviously – where he could find it. Whatkind of game was she playing at? It had already been suggested tohim that of all the housemaids it was Edie Uncle Seamus wasattracted to. But could much of the teasing and byplay have beeninitiated and encouraged by Edie herself? Was she in lovewith Uncle Seamus? And had he spurned her? Or merely kept theirrelationship on a proper plane, which would have amounted to thesame thing? Surely she wouldn’t want to see him accused of rape.But she might want to cause him some embarrassment as a form ofpetty revenge. The ways of women continued to be mysterious toCobb.
Whatever Edie’s motive – and at her age shemight not know herself – this incriminating letter was now in hishands. No-one other than Seamus came remotely close to thedescription of the lover therein. The letter itself suggested thatBetsy had fancied him from afar. Had he picked up on this fancy andcrossed the line with her? Had they set up an assignation? Had sheresisted, resulting in rape? Or had the affair actually continuedafter the original encounter until abortion had become a necessity?(After all, the letter wasn’t dated.) Cobb would soon find out.Uncle Seamus had better have some compelling answers to hisquestions.
“Thanks, lass, you’ve been a big help,” hesaid to Edie.
Edie looked as if she was not sure what shehad done.
***
Sixty-year-old Seamus Baldwin looked ninety. He wasslumped against the library table. He did not glance up at Cobb’sentry nor did he acknowledge Cobb’s presence when he sat downcatty-corner from him. He reminded Cobb of a circus clown he hadonce seen sitting behind his tent after the performance: all thestuffing gone out of him, all the bright colours of his smilemelting together, his very bones sagged and defeated.
“Mr. Baldwin, I must begin by saying thatsome very serious charges have been made against you, and I’vegathered evidence to back them from a number of witnesses.”
“I know. William just told me about theincident at the mill.” The voice was a hoarse whisper. “It’s thelast straw. That anyone would think that I would hurt my dear, dearBetsy.”
“I’m hopin’ we can clear this up by havin’you explain away some of the things I been hearin’ today.”
“If I must.”
“First of all, one of the mill-hands saysthat on the day we’re talkin’ about, August the third – ”
“I remember. The day after the tornado.”
“That’s right. This mill-hand says he saw youat yer fishin’ spot in the ravine below the mill abouttwelve-thirty or so. Were you there, sir?”
The reply startled Cobb. “Yes. I wasthere.”
“Without yer fishin’ rod?”
“That’s correct.”
My word! The man was admitting itoutright.
“How did you expect to catch trout withoutyer gear?”
“I was there for another reason.” Despite theman’s obvious emotional and physical exhaustion, a note of warinesshad crept into his responses.
“And what might that be?”
“I was supposed to meet Betsy there.”
For the assignation! My, my, Cobb thought,this is looking bad, bad indeed. “Why on earth would you wish tomeet yer housemaid there? You see her every hour on the hour atSpadina.”
“It wasn’t what you think, Cobb. Betsy sharedmy love of horses. She liked to admire them, those we have here andthose at the mill. I came to Spadina at the beginning of July.Betsy helped serve a dozen dinners and picnics that month. I took ashine to her. She was bright and literate. I wanted to help her getahead. Even before she came on steady at the end of the month, Ihad started tutoring her. She told me that her father was thinkingof buying a pony from Seth Whittle. She knew I knew a lot abouthorseflesh. She asked me to have a look at this animal before herdad bought it. She was afraid he might get swindled.”
“I see. But why the secrecy? Couldn’t youjust have gone over and had a look?”
“Probably. But she wanted to be with me. Shewas an excited little girl. Her father didn’t approve of herstaying on at the mill after she delivered his lunch. So wearranged to meet in the ravine and from there move up through thebrush to the back door of the barn, which was always open. Betsyknew nobody would be around.”
“So you waited, but Betsy didn’t showup?”
“No.” He looked even more devastated,thinking no doubt that he might have prevented the tragedy thatfollowed. “We must have got our arrangements confused. She probablythought I would come up from the ravine by myself. But I wanted herto make sure the coast was clear before she came to fetch me.”
“So you just left?”
He nodded. “Now I know why she didn’t come.Some bastard raped her!”
Cobb cleared his throat noisily. “We got awitness who says it was you who was in the stall with Betsy.”
“Then you’ve got a witness who is lying,” hesaid wearily. “There was never anything improper going on betweenBetsy and me. Oh, I know I’ve been seen teasing the girls andRobert’s kids, and acting the fool. But that’s my nature. It’s whatI felt free to do – out here – at last.”
“Then there’s the whole business of the fivepounds and the thank-you note.”
“I’ve already explained that.”
“What about this, then?” Cobb handed himBetsy’s billet-doux.
Uncle Seamus paled even more as he read it.It fell from his fingers. “I never knew. I swear.”
“The trouble is, sir, the only people whoknow about the pony story and about the lie Betsy told you abouther mother needin’ surgery are you and Betsy. And Betsy’s dead. Wegot a signed statement from a witness naming you as the culprit.None of the other mill-hands fit the witness’s description – onlyyou. No other stranger was seen anywhere about by Mullins, who wassouth of the mill or by Whittle and Thurgood, who were north of it.And we got two notes in the girl’s handwritin’ suggestin’ a romancewas possible between you and her.”
“What are you saying, sir? That I’m going tobe charged?”
“That ain’t fer me to decide. I’m justtellin’ you what I plan to put in my report to Chief Sturges.”
But Cobb had little doubt about the outcome.He had systematically built up a powerful case against UncleSeamus. The Chief had asked him to obtain the facts and he had,insofar as they could be ferreted out after two months. He was bothsaddened and proud. Saddened because Seamus Baldwin was the uncleof Marc’s close friend and political ally, Robert Baldwin. Theconsequences of such a charge could be catastrophic for the Reformparty and their hopes in the coming election. Still, Marc wouldhave wanted Cobb to do what he did: carefully and dispassionatelygather evidence and credible witness-accounts. And Cobb was proudthat he had done so. Perhaps he would make a good detective afterall.
In the hall, Dr. Baldwin said, “How did itgo?”
“You’d better see to him, sir,” Cobbsaid.
And he left quickly.