He shot another glance around when a clock chimed farther down the gallery. “Should be getting back to my duties, my lady.”
Was he serious? “Ben, you need to tell Fisk what you just told me. Michael might have been murdered by someone in this house.”
He held up his hands as if to hold me off. “No, ma’am. I’m just saying no one on the staff would give tuppence for him, but I don’t believe for a minute any of them would think of murdering him.”
I was still reeling from his revelations. “If none of the staff cared for Michael, why on earth did you all cover up for him? I can understand the maids fearing the loss of their positions, but why didn’t someone report his drinking?”
“I thought about it, ma’am. But we get quite a bit of liberty here, and I was afraid Mr. Crocker would just tighten the rules for all of us when it was only Michael who took advantage.” He let out his breath in a huff. “When we cleaned up the office the other day, he finished off the drink from the gentlemen’s glasses. And him still on duty.” His teeth dug into his lip as he shook his head. “Michael was a bad one, he was, and I can’t believe he behaved any better in the village than he did in this house. You might find someone there who’d want to kill him. The police should look there. Now, I really should get back to my work, ma’am.”
I allowed him to return to the servants’ hall, my head full of this new and shocking information. Yes, perhaps someone in the village did want to murder him, but he couldn’t have gone to the village since Thursday. If Michael O’Brien didn’t die accidentally, the murderer was in this house.
Chapter 13
I resolved on two things as I made my way upstairs—I’d let George decide what to do about Ben’s information, and I’d interview the maids again, this time in private. It would have to be later in the day though as Lily and Rose were having dress fittings and Lily had asked me to stop in. I’d just turned into the south hallway at the top of the stairs when I caught a glimpse of a man slipping out of one of the guest rooms. He closed the door carefully and quietly, then moved away from me to the servants’ door midway down the hall. Behind it was a stairway to the gallery below. In only trousers and a shirt, his coat draped over his arm, I couldn’t tell if he was a gentleman or a servant.
Odd though. All the gentlemen were still out in the field; at least they were supposed to be. And why would a guest use the servant’s stairs? Stupid question. Because he didn’t want to be seen, that’s why. For some guests, the entire point of a house party was to carry on with someone other than one’s spouse. But in this case, the guests were all family, or at least soon to become family. That led me to assume the man was likely a servant. But who was he visiting?
As usual, I had far too many tasks to juggle. I’d have to file this bit of information away for consideration at another time. With a tap on the door, I let myself into Lily’s room.
“Frances! Please do come in.” Though one glance told me Lily felt much better than she had this morning, her voice was strained, as if she were trying very hard to control some emotion. Whatever was wrong? I glanced around the large room, done up in white and rose. Sunlight streamed through the south-facing windows and glowed like a beacon on my mother. Perhaps what Lily was trying to control was her temper.
She stood on a footstool while the seamstress made some adjustments to her waistband. Rose and Mother were seated on the bench at the end of the bed, Rose smiling and swinging her legs, my mother, with brows lowered and lips pursed. Ah, yes, she did appear to be the source of Lily’s distress.
I stepped forward. “Leo is going to love your gown, dear. You look absolutely breathtaking.”
“Hmph! A waste if you ask me.” Mother punctuated her opinion with a snort. A snort! Good heavens, what was wrong with her?
Lily turned around, causing the poor seamstress to scramble forward or risk tearing the dress. Clearly, I’d walked in on an argument.
I held out a hand to Rose who bounced off the bench and with a sniffle, came to my side. “How was your ride this morning?”
She wrinkled her nose and sneezed. “We saw a ruined castle.” She shrugged. “But the ride was fun.”
I handed her a handkerchief. “Why the sniffing and sneezing, dear? Are you feeling well?” She nodded, and I put a hand to her forehead, which felt cool enough.
“All right then, your gown is in my dressing room. Why don’t you go there and ask Bridget to help you find it?”
She looked back at Lily and Mother as if she might balk—this was rather juicy stuff for her. “Now?” she asked.
“Now would be best.”
She shuffled so slowly to the door, one might think she was headed for the gallows. When I still hadn’t stopped her by the time she turned the door handle, she sighed and left the room.
I turned to my mother. “Is it the gown you object to?”
She gave me a cold, hard glare. “The gown is divine. The groom is questionable.”
I seated myself beside her. “I can’t stop you from arguing with Lily about her choice of a husband, but my daughter sees this wedding as the most romantic thing she’s ever experienced. And no matter what you say, Leo will very likely become her uncle Leo, so I do not want you disparaging him in her presence.”
Her eyes widened to the point I worried they would pop. Then, something happened that I would later refer to as akin to a miracle. She backed down. My mother, the woman who always believed she was right, did not pick up the gauntlet. Instead, she dropped her gaze to her hands and sighed.
Then she patted my hand and uttered words I have never heard pass her lips.
“You are right, dear.”
It was all I could do to keep from gaping.
“I should not have spoken out in front of Rose, but I do feel it’s my duty as a mother to counsel Lily in choosing a husband. I’d assumed you or Hetty would have taken on that responsibility in my absence.” She sighed and gave me a disappointed look, which put an end to my gaping. This was much more like the woman I recognized as my mother.
She squeezed my arm and continued. “Do you remember the fun we had during your come out? We made quite a splash in London society. Why, to think you had a prince ask for your hand.”
“I don’t believe he was truly a prince, Mother. I never found the principality he was supposedly from on any map. And he didn’t actually ask for my hand.” What he had asked for was so insulting, I’d slapped his face, thus putting an end to his pursuit.
Mother released my arm and swept hers in a dismissive wave. “Perhaps not, but the point is you and I worked so well together. You understood your debut was about improving our standing in society. Lily always drifted from wanting to find an aristocrat to wanting to fall in love. She had no focus.”
“Lily is standing right here, you know.” Lily scowled from her footstool and crossed her arms, which hiked up her hem and caused the seamstress to sigh. “I can hear every word you say.”
Mother seemed lost in her memories. “I felt she might work better with you as her sponsor, but I’d expected you to guide her.”
“Frances did guide me and so did Aunt Hetty. They are both pleased with my choice. You are the only dissenting voice.”
“Is that so?” Mother gave me a look of inquiry. “Just what was your counsel, Frances? Find the only commoner among the aristocrats and marry him?”
I opened my mouth, but Lily was faster. “She told me to follow my heart.”
Mother’s nostrils flared. Her lips twitched as she forced a bitter smile. “Is that so?”
Not exactly.
“We investigated each of Lily’s suitors carefully, Mother. I didn’t want her to fall under the spell of some fortune hunter.” Like that so-called prince. “There were two such men chasing after her.”
“I assume they were aristocrats?”
Another difficult question. I didn’t want to go into detail about either gentleman’s background; that could take hours to explain. Instead, I shrugged. Let her think wh
at she will.
“You married an aristocrat. Didn’t you consider your sister worthy of such a man?”
Lily raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and started speaking to the seamstress about her hem. I gave my mother a scowl. “Of course Lily is worthy of any aristocrat, but more importantly, she is worthy of a man who will love and care for her. Leo is that man. The two of them will have a happy marriage, unlike mine.”
“Happiness.” She batted the notion of happiness aside with a swipe of her hand. “Marriage does not make a woman happy. It gives her status, or money, or position.”
“None of those things are worthwhile with a husband who makes you miserable.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be so dramatic. A woman can find happiness in her children or even society. Miserable indeed. With your father’s money and your husband’s title you had all of London at your feet.”
It was my turn to sigh. My husband had left me at the family home in the country for the years of our marriage. I visited London once or twice a year and never did anyone fall at my feet. But my mother preferred her fairy-tale version of my life.
“I don’t understand you, Frances. Lily has always been backward—”
A groan emanated from Lily’s direction.
“—but you seemed to understand how marriage works in our circle.” She gave me a searching look. “You are so changed now that I barely recognize you.”
I had changed, and it wasn’t just due to my failed marriage. It was falling in love with George. It turned my view of the world on its head and showed me I was worth more than just my dowry. Loving him was everything I didn’t know I needed, and it occurred to me if my mother didn’t recall her feelings for my father, she’d be very lonely once her children were all settled.
“All I’m saying is it isn’t too late, perhaps, to postpone the wedding.” She emphasized the word postpone with a fanning of her fingers. “That is all. There were two single men at dinner last night, both from aristocratic families, one of them heir to a title. Both of them were attractive, and one in particular was very interested in Lily.”
Lily blushed at the allusion to Ernest Treadwell. I’d have to make sure to keep him far away from Mother over the next few days. Between the two of them, they might just devise a way of postponing the wedding. The other man I assumed was Percy Bradmore.
“Lily has made her choice, and with the wedding just a few days off, I do believe it is too late to call it off or postpone it.”
“Nor do I want to,” Lily added, glaring over her shoulder.
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, Frances. I can’t find one drop of ambition between the two of you girls.” Raising her chin, she glanced at me. “And what are your prospects? Have you considered a second marriage?”
My head reeled at the sudden change of subject. I hadn’t expected such a direct attack. I felt my face flood with color and quickly turned to my sister for help. I could see she wanted to come to my aid, but her desire to protect me warred with her reluctance to engage our mother in yet another battle. Before I could form a suitable reply, Lily decided in favor of the battle.
“Frances still has to get me to the altar, Mother. At least wait until after my wedding before you pounce on her.”
This set Mother into another tirade about ungrateful children and why fate hadn’t blessed her with all sons. As she raged on, I caught Lily’s eye in the mirror and mouthed the words Thank you.
* * *
I was so grateful for Lily’s defense I convinced my mother to leave her in peace and join me for the picnic lunch Fiona had planned. We were to be joined by the ladies from the Stafford estate where the gentlemen were shooting.
“I had no idea the British were such outdoorsy people,” she said, wrinkling her nose and picking her way across the gravel drive to the open carriage. “What is the point of having such an enormous house if everyone spends all their time out of doors?”
“You’ve just spent all morning indoors, Mother. A little fresh air will do you good.”
She released a heavy sigh but pasted on a bright smile for Fiona, who directed everyone to one carriage or the other. “Ah, Mrs. Price. We’ve saved a nice spot for you here.” She turned my mother over to the groom who assisted her into the Staffords’ carriage and settled her in next to Eliza Durant.
“The carriage appears to be full up now,” Fiona said with feigned regret. “Why don’t you come with me, Frances? A few of us are planning to walk to the site. If we cross through the meadows, it’s not far.”
The thought of a walk and the chance to avoid my mother’s impertinent questions sounded perfect. Four of us set off on foot—Lottie, Anne, Fiona, and myself—first down the lane that wound past the maze and the steward’s and gamekeeper’s cottages, then through the open meadow where the cool breeze threatened to run off with our hats.
“How is Charles faring today, Lottie?”
“Well enough to chase me away,” she replied with a twist of her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t make a very competent nurse. He’s propped up in bed with pillows to cushion him everywhere and keep him from rolling onto his wound. I adjusted his dinner tray last night then knocked it over when I sat on the bed.” She winced. “We had to get him up to change the bedding. This morning I was bringing him a book when I stumbled over the carpet and landed on his injured—area.”
This time I winced.
“He kept the book but sent me off. I’m hoping he’ll be able to join us this evening after dinner. He says his pain has subsided quite a bit.”
We all agreed it would be a pleasure to see Charles up and around again. Anne engaged Lottie in conversation, and Fiona and I allowed the younger ladies to outstrip us.
“I must bring you up to date about the rest of my morning,” I said, quickly relaying the gist of the interviews and my subsequent conversation with Ben the footman.
“Yes, he must tell the police. But I’m not surprised as it coincides with the information I managed to pry from my maid,” she replied.
“Your maid?”
She nodded. “I was devastated I couldn’t sit in on the interviews with you, but it occurred to me Jonesy, my maid, might have overheard some talk below stairs since the footman passed away.”
“Clever, Fiona. I shall have to talk with Bridget, too. I’ve already asked her what she knew of Michael, but never considered asking her opinion of the rest of the staff. What did Jonesy tell you?”
“It seems Michael O’Brien was quite the ladies’ man, at least he thought so, and the younger girls were foolish enough to swoon over him. One of the housemaids told Jonesy of how he dallied with both the kitchen maid and a scullery maid at the same time.” She shook her head. “It was inevitable that one would find out about the other. That gave rise to a row unlike anything the housemaid had seen before, and it took her and the cook to break it up and calm both girls down before Mrs. Ansel or Mr. Crocker found out about them.”
I sucked in a breath. “None of that came out during Fisk’s interviews. Either girl would have had access to the rat poison. Do you suppose they were angry enough for such an act?”
“Perhaps, but this happened a good six months ago. According to Jonesy, both girls decided he wasn’t worth their jobs or their friendship. Particularly since they believed he’d taken up with someone in the village.”
That sounded too convenient to me. “He played the two girls off one another, and neither of them bore a grudge? They were content to work together, and with him?”
Fiona shrugged. “Jonesy seems to think they’ve quite resolved their differences.”
“And the object of their difference is now dead.”
“You can’t imagine one of them poisoned him?”
“Why not? Someone did. Why not them?” I worried the button at the top of my jacket as I considered the situation. Six months is a long time to plot retribution. “How did they react when Michael’s body was discovered?”
“I have no idea, b
ut I’ll see what Jonesy can find out. Is Ben the only one you were able to speak with alone?”
I nodded. “He sought me out, and we had a very brief conversation. I thought he’d strain his neck watching over his shoulder for Crocker all the while. After that, I was stuck in Lily’s dress fitting with my mother. No, that’s not true.” I latched on to her arm and glanced up to ensure the younger girls were well ahead of us. “On my way upstairs, I saw someone leaving one of the guest rooms two doors down from Lily. Do you recall whose room that is?”
Fiona furrowed her brow in thought. “Two doors down would be Eliza Durant. Her husband is in the connecting room to her right. Why?”
How interesting. I sidled closer to her. “A man, who I can definitely say wasn’t Arthur Durant just based on his height, slipped out of her room in a very surreptitious manner.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Eliza’s been carrying on with the under-butler almost from the moment she arrived here.” She released a tiny tsk. “With Arthur gone every morning, she thinks no one will be the wiser. But I know. The staff knows. It won’t be long before everyone knows.”
“The staff knows?”
Fiona lifted a shoulder. “It was my maid who told me about it. She pretended outrage, but it was clear she could barely contain her excitement in telling me. It seems there’s plenty of devilment going on in my brother’s house, but the staff is careful to avoid detection from Mr. Crocker.”
“I understand he wouldn’t tolerate such goings-on if he knew about them. Ben told me they’d be dismissed on the spot, probably without a reference. I suppose I understand why they’d protect one another, but I’ve never seen a household where everyone seems to be up to something.”
“I think it’s because the earl is so rarely here. He’s either in London or traveling. The staff is free to do as they please.”
Fiona took my arm to steady me as I stumbled over a stump, buried in the tall grass. “About Eliza Durant. Why would she risk a liaison with a servant? She can’t claim an absent husband. He’s right here with her.”
A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder Page 15
