Page 62 of Honor Unbound

“Yes, didn’t the magistrate tell you?” Lady Mary twisted her lips. “I have been investigating why Mr. Trent was killed and went to speak to your husband and found him. The connection between the two deaths is all too apparent.”

Mrs. Hicks rubbed her temple. “Fenton told me about Mr. Trent, but he thought it had something to do with his wife’s affair. Why would the same person kill my husband?”

Lady Mary patted the woman’s knee. “That’s what I intend to find out. Now, has your husband said or done anything unusual in the past few days? Anything that made you suspicious?”

“No.” Mrs. Hicks frowned. “He was worried, of course. That woman hadn’t paid him or the other men at the factory, but that isn’t unusual.”

“That woman?” Marie scooted to the edge of her seat. “Mrs. Trent? What did Mr. Hicks have to say about her?”

“Only that she was a fool, not letting Fenton take control of the factory.” Mrs. Hicks blew her nose into a handkerchief. “I told him that her aspirations might not align with his, that he should start looking for different employment, but he dismissed my concerns.”

“Did your husband ever mention my name?” Lady Mary asked.

“No. Should he have?”

Marie heaved a sigh. It looked unlikely that they’d ever learn why Mr. Trent had wanted to contact Lady Mary. And perhaps they didn’t need to know. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the murders.

“And you’re certain your husband did nothing out of the ordinary these past days?” Lady Mary pressed. “Anything at all?”

“No.” Mrs. Hicks cocked her head. “Well, except bringing home one of those dreadful tins of food. He knows I won’t eat what he makes. Unnatural, it is.” She gave a delicate shudder, one Marie agreed with wholeheartedly.

“A tin of food?” Lady Mary straightened. “Do you still have it?”

“I suppose.” Mrs. Hicks stood and went to the wall. She pulled the servant call. “What does a tin of food have to do with anything?”

The same man who’d opened the door for them appeared. He was the Hickses’ sole servant, and Marie wondered if the widow would keep him on. Without her husband in the house, for some reason it didn’t seem quite proper just him and Mrs. Hicks.

Mrs. Hicks asked him to retrieve the tin, then sat back down next to Lady Mary.

“Perhaps it has nothing to do with the murders,” Lady Mary said. “But if it wasn’t his habit—”

“It wasn’t.” Mrs. Hicks pressed her hands to her lap. “I tried each of the types of food he canned as he asked me, but I told him no more. I didn’t want it in my house.”

“—then I find it of interest that your husband behaved so out of character,” Lady Mary finished. “Perhaps there is something besides food in the tin.”

The servant returned, a tin in his hand. He held the rim between just two fingers as he passed it to his mistress.

She examined the rims and shook the tin. “It looks and feels like any other can of food. Or at least what Fenton thought passed as such.” She handed it to Lady Mary.

“Hmm.” She adjusted her spectacles. “It does appear….”

“What is it?” Marie asked.

Lady Mary squinted at the top. “The date. Mutton soup. This is the tin that should have been destroyed that I found under the table at the factory. Why would he bring it here?”

“Destroyed?” Mrs. Hicks leaned back.

“It was produced the same week as the batch of contaminated food that killed those soldiers.” Lady Mary rolled the tin between her hands. “Your husband said every tin canned that week was supposed to be destroyed but this one somehowescaped that destiny.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you mind if I take this?” Lady Mary asked her.

“Please, take it from my house.” Mrs. Hicks held up her hands. “That’s all I need, someone getting sick. First the intruder, then Fenton dying, then….” She swallowed. “Well, I guess nothing compares to Fenton dying.”

Lady Mary shoved the tin in her reticule. “What intruder?”

“Last night.” Mrs. Hicks picked at her skirts. “While I slept, someone broke into the house and rummaged through my husband’s things in the next room. I was just in the next room,” she emphasized.

“How did he get in?” Marie asked. “Could it have been your husband?” Before he’d gone to the factory and gotten himself killed, that was.

Mrs. Hicks pointed at the wall. “It wasn’t Fenton. A window was forced in the next room. My manservant noticed the bottom sill was damaged when he went to open it this morning, plus some dirt was trod into my new rug.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t until later that I noticed that Fenton’s room had been gone through. Whoever did it hadn’t been concerned with keeping things in order. Clothes were strewn everywhere.”