Yes! It wasn’t explained at all, how Bucket came to suspect Hortense. I expected some revelation about the shawl, that it didn’t belong to Lady Dedlock, or the quality was inferior and she wouldn’t be caught dead in it, or that it smelled like Hortense, etc. 
We didn’t see anything that would lead Bucket to suspect her, except for her presence at the funeral of a man she hated. Was that it?
I have now found this in an article about the writer Charlotte Smith :-
These personal tragedies were compounded by Smith’s treatment at the hands of her dissolute husband. Richard Smith was well aware of his son’s shortcomings and financial imprudence. When he died in 1776, he left much of his fortune (approximately £36000) tied up in trust for his grandchildren. Unfortunately, the will was heavily disputed and a settlement was only reached in 1813, seven years after Charlotte Smith’s own death. (Dickens may well have had Smith’s lawsuit in mind when he wrote Bleak House).
They explained it, it was just easy to miss.
Remember when, a few episodes ago, Tulkinghorne and Bucket brought Hortense in so that Joe could maybe identify the lady he led to Nemo’s apartment? When she left, Bucket made her write down her address on a slip of paper.
In the last episode, Bucket received several notes reading “Lady Dedlock, Muderess.” He recognizes the handwriting, and in one scene pulls out the slip of paper Hortense had written her address down on and compares it to the writing on the “Murderess” slips. It matches.
Now, how he got from Hortense attempting to frame Lady Dedlock to Hortense really being the killer (other than accusing her and having her break down and confess) is a bit of a mystery to me.
I picked up on the handwriting in the notes, but yeah, how’d he get from that to there?
Maybe it’ll be in the book.
He also had her followed, and the constable following her saw her dispose of the murder weapon.
Ah! That’s it. I’d forgotten all about that part.
Thank you.
Come on. She’s French. Isn’t it obvious?
I recently finished watching this series on DVD and had to come and post about it, because it’s one of the best Masterpiece Theatre productions I have ever seen, and I found it so exciting, and I want to share my excitement! pant
Ah, John Lynch! I thought he was used masterfully: he barely said a word, he was in (what?) 2 episodes? – but what an impression he made because of that face! The misery and degradation and woe he conveyed just with his hooded eyes…brilliant.
I thought Anna Maxwell-Martin was just perfect as Esther. I have cough skimmed the book and I know she was supposed to be the spitting image of her mother, which in this production she is not…and I have read criticisms and posts on other message boards taking her to task for the non-resemblance and, worse, the plainness of her features…but I thought she did a wonderful job bringing Esther to life. She wasn’t the cloyingly sweek, dismally-low-self-esteemed creature of the novel: she was practical and modest and loyal and warm and true, and I loved her. And I loved Mr. Jarndyce, and my poor heart was wrung in two when he gave her up at the end. I didn’t shed a tear for the doofus Richard, but when Mr. Jarndyce told Esther he couldn’t marry her, I couldn’t stop myself from crying along with her. Dear, sweet man! I’m glad Mr. Woodcourt was fleshed out the way he was in the miniseries (more so than in the book, IIRC) – handsome and self-sacrificing and kind-hearted and good to Esther, and I couldn’t fault her for loving him. But I wish Mr. Jarndyce’s story could have ended happily. Or that I could have married him, but never mind that.
I loved the very last scene, though, with everyone waltzing together on the sunny lawn, even Mr. Squod. Which brings me to another reason I loved this miniseries so much – so many of the more minor characters were interesting and delightful in their own right, even Guppy’s silly mother. (Loved Guppy.) There were no boring parts or side-plots you couldn’t care less about…everybody was in on the drama.
And “Shake me up, Judy!” has become a catch-phrase in my house. 
Um, read “sweek” as an amalgamation of sweet and meek.