Mrs. Thomas paused again, and this time Mira was prepared. “I am actually twenty-three. Mrs. Thomas, I was…”

“Twenty-three! Just a child you are. Oh dear,” Mrs. Thomas crooned, her hand rising to cup her cheek as her eyes took on a faraway look of fond remembrance. “I remember twenty-three. Of course, at twenty-three I was already married to the Reverend Mr. Thomas and was expecting our second child. We have five, you know. Stephen is the oldest, he’s twenty-two, almost your age. Good heavens! I could be your mother. What a thought. Anyway, Stephen is a journeyman printer in Bath. We stay with him and his wife Sarah when we go to take the waters. Charles is the second. He’s twenty. Studying to be a minister, just like his father. A fine boy. Then there’s Mary and Elizabeth. Twins! Lovely girls, but my confinement with them was a misery, I don’t have to tell you. Oof. May you never bear twins, my dear. Then there’s little Ellie, our baby. Short for Eleanor, my own mother’s name. Only eleven, she is. Pretty as a picture…”

As Mrs. Thomas continued her dissertation on the attributes of her various children, Mira decided that she would simply have to take the bull by the horns and force her way into the conversation. Mrs. Thomas had given her one chance, which she had missed, so now she must make another.

“Speaking of Ellie, Mrs. Thomas,” Mira said, her voice raised slightly to be sure that Mrs. Thomas would hear her over her own chatter. “Speaking of Ellie, I hear tell she had a bit of a scare a few years ago.”

Mrs. Thomas’s mouth snapped shut, a look of confusion on her face. “A scare? My Ellie? When was this?”

“A few years ago. I hear that she was out gathering berries and found poor Bridget Collins. That must have been quite a trauma for Ellie.”

Mrs. Thomas’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward, eagerly latching onto this new thread of conversation. “Heavens, yes. Poor child had nightmares for weeks. Who could blame her? I had a few bad dreams myself, and it was hardly the first time I had seen a dead body… I generally prepare our dead for burial, you know. Of course, it was the first time I had seen anyone quite so, oh dear, well, abused. Mmmm.” Mrs. Thomas paused to nod solemnly, underscoring the gravity of Bridget’s injuries.

Then, quick as a wink, Mrs. Thomas’s expression changed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you come to know about Bridget Collins? Surely the news of the death of a girl from Upper Bidwell did not make its way to London, did it?”

Mira thought carefully before she answered, taking a sip of tea to hide her hesitation. She was counting on Mrs. Thomas being eager to warn Mira away from Nicholas, more than happy to fill Mira’s head with gruesome pictures to send her fleeing in the other direction. But if she knew that Mira was investigating the murders, hoping to clear Nicholas’s name, she might not be so forthcoming.

“My lady’s maid is Nan Collins, Bridget’s sister,” Mira said, hoping that she could be forgiven for using Nan so shamelessly. “She mentioned her sister’s death, and she seemed so upset by it. I did not wish to pry. But without knowing more, I felt at a loss as to how to provide comfort to her.”

Mira’s explanation seemed to satisfy Mrs. Thomas. “What a sweet, considerate girl you are, my dear. I am sure Lord Ashfield,” she said his name with a pained expression, “is a lucky, lucky man to be marrying such a lovely woman.”

Mrs. Thomas sighed heavily before picking up her story. “Poor little Bridget Collins. She was such a good girl, always offering to help tidy the chapel after services and to help the Reverend and me with the alms. She was just a wee mite of a thing, and so pretty. Lovely blond curls and the most enormous blue eyes, just the color of periwinkles in the sunlight, they were.”

“Yes,” Mira said, “I heard that she had a suitor, that she was in love when she died.”

“Hmmph. I should say so.” Mrs. Thomas grew uncharacteristically quiet, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she appeared to weigh the propriety of saying any more.

“Why do you say that?” Mira prodded. “Did you ever meet her suitor?”




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