Murder At Montford Hall by Marilyn Clay

Author:Marilyn Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: British Cozy Mysteries - Amateur Female Sleuth -non violent, Amateur sleuth historical mystery English country house setting, Clean and wholesome Regency Mysteries, Hanna Hamilton - Sheri Cobb South - Eleanor Meyers - Bree Wolf, English country house mystery, Historical mystery thriller suspense, Ashley Gardner - Heidi Ashworth - Joan Smith - Tasha Alexander - TS Kinsley
Publisher: Marilyn Clay
Published: 2020-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

In Which Juliette Seeks Advice

MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT as I lay in our little truckle bed, Helen sleeping alone in the wide bed above me that only last night she had shared with Ardeth, who, I assumed was now sleeping soundly in Lady Montford’s bedchamber, I realized there was only one way I could know for certain what had transpired this afternoon. I had to find Tilda.

I did not sleep a great deal that night. Not due to the cold, but because I could not cease thinking, or rather, worrying about my maid. The certainty that she was cold, hungry and frightened would not let me rest. Tilda was a slight girl with little to no meat on her bones. How long could she go on frightened to death, and with nothing to eat? True, she was resourceful and if there were food to be had in the house, she would find a way to get it, but since there was none to be had, she was surely hungry.

I also believed if Tilda were not guilty of any wrongdoing, she would never give up. If Mr. Torbitt had followed her into our bedchamber and attempted to take liberties, and the action prompted Tilda to snatch up the poker and chase the old man back out into the corridor, where, in order to drive home her refusal to submit to his advances, she hit him over the head with the iron tool, Tilda truly was not guilty of a crime, but only of defending her virtue.

However, in her current frightened state, she might not be thinking clearly. Instead, she would tell herself that being a member of the lower orders, there was a good chance no one would believe her fierce denial of wrongdoing. She’d then conclude that a noose about her neck whilst dangling from the limb of the nearest tree surely lay in store for her.

At this juncture my insides twisted into a knot, and I could scarcely draw breath. The only thought that prevented me from slipping into the same sort of panicked state that I was certain Tilda was in, was the fact that Helen had confessed to me that old Mr. Torbitt had attempted to take liberties with her. Surely, thought I, Helen could be persuaded to testify in Tilda’s defense were the matter to proceed to a trial, or even an inquest. Thinking back to those times in which I had been unfairly accused of a crime that I did not commit, fresh fear turned my insides to jelly.

Recalling that Tilda was wearing a warm gown, one with long sleeves provided me with a small measure of comfort. Although, the frock was not nearly heavy enough to keep her small body warm in a room not heated by a brisk fire on the hearth, still . . . it was something.

Because I did not believe that Tilda would actually leave the castle and take her chances in the unhospitable environs outdoors, I believed with

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