Rodney made a little bow in her direction. “I shall leave you now with my deepest apologies, Boudica. Emily, I do hope I am not imposing too greatly on your goodwill to continue my stay at your house?”
“No one wants you anywhere near here, Mr. Scolfield,” Matilda said. “If you are trying to make me feel bad about not wanting to see you live at Montagu, don’t bother. I feel no compunction in that regard. You have no one to blame but yourself for the inconvenience of your presence.”
“I know when to surrender,” Rodney said, removing his mask with a flourish and bowing low in front of his cousin. “I shall, however, return for a rematch.” Matilda scowled as he left the room and then stood at the window so that she might continue to glower at him as he made his way on horseback down her drive. Once he had disappeared from sight, she removed her fencing kit, smoothed her skirts, and led me to a charming little room nearby, where we sat on a long window seat below a leaded-glass bay that overlooked the pond behind the house.
“My grandfather wanted to turn the pond into a moat,” Matilda said, “but the engineering proved too difficult. Shall I ring for some tea?”
“You might want something stronger than that after you have heard what I have to say.” I handed Charlotte’s diaries to her. “I have discovered an irregularity in the Montagu line, but not where you had hoped.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. She went very pale when I started to tell Charlotte’s story, then turned deep shades of red as I got to the end. “So I am the one descended from a bastard?”
“It doesn’t matter, Matilda,” I said. “Everyone accepted Charlotte’s son as her legitimate heir. No one denies your rights in the family.”
“It does weaken my case against Mr. Scolfield, doesn’t it?”
“You never really had a case against him,” I said. “Much though I regret to say it.”
“You mean you don’t like him either?”
“It is not a question of like or dislike,” I said. “I understand perfectly not wanting to feel forced out of a house you love so well, particularly when you thought it belonged to you.”
“It is a good thing they found him, though,” she said, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “I do not deserve to be marchioness in my own right.”
“I don’t agree,” I said. “Rodney’s position aside, you are just as legitimate as every marquess who followed Charlotte. You know it is bad manners to point out an illegitimacy when everyone has already decided to accept it.”
“I don’t know what else I can do,” Matilda said. “I have been a beast to Mr. Scolfield.”
“And he would be a cad not to have sympathy for your position. He has made it clear you can stay at Montagu.”
“I might consider doing so if I did not find everything about him so very disagreeable. The man is vile.” She frowned. “Promise me you won’t tell him about Charlotte?”
“If you’d like, but I don’t see how it matters.”
“I do not want my position in regard to him undermined in the least. So far as I am concerned, he is marquess only because of the deep prejudice the nobility has against women. I am much more closely related than he to every marquess in the line, but relation matters less than gender.”
“I will not recite for you all the reasons it was arranged that way, but only because I agree completely that it is outrageous.”
“Tell me about something more cheerful,” she said. “Where has the investigation of Archie’s death led you?”
*
When I returned to Anglemore, I found Colin and Simon entrenched in a game of chess in my husband’s study. They were using his favorite chess set, with delicate pieces carved out of ivory that his father had bought for him on a visit to India when Colin had been only nine years old. My husband stood, gave me a kiss long enough that Simon had to pretend difficulty in lighting his pipe so as not to appear having noticed, and then greeted me with news of Miss Gifford. A lady fitting her description had booked passage two days after the murder on a Channel ferry from Dover.
“How many ladies in England could fit Miss Gifford’s description?” I asked.
“Countless, no doubt,” Colin said, “but this one was a bit odd. She claimed to be traveling on her honeymoon, yet bought only one ticket. She said her husband already had one.”
“That is odd.”
“Quite. The clerk remembered her precisely because of it. He does not often see a young lady traveling unaccompanied.”
“Her husband was not with her at the ticket counter?”
“Apparently not, and neither was anyone else.”
“So she might have left school, murdered Scolfield, and fled the country,” I said. “After carefully waiting two days, lest the police be checking the ferries. Why two days?”
“A schoolgirl’s guess as to how long is long enough?” Colin suggested.
“Can we do anything to track her beyond—”
“Calais?” Colin finished for me. “I have a good man on the task already. Now do tell us about your day.”
“You must admit it is rather alarming that Matilda considered a murder investigation more cheerful than primogeniture,” I said, after recounting for them all that had happened at Montagu.
“Alarming, yes,” Colin said, “but not wholly unexpected. Perhaps your initial instincts were correct. Do not forget you strongly suspected she had Montagu killed so she would inherit.”
“I know I did,” I said.
“Do you repent now?” Simon asked. “Or is it that as you have grown to know her better, you find her less and less capable of such a crime?”
“Nothing of the sort,” I said. “I am looking at evidence. Yes, Matilda had motive—at least she believed so at the time of Archibald’s death—but we know she could not have murdered him herself. Countless witnesses placed her at Montagu for a good hour before and after the murder. Furthermore, we have uncovered nothing to suggest she had hired someone to do the job for her.”
“Quite right, Emily,” Colin said. “Focus on the evidence.”
“I just wish less of it were circumstantial,” I said. I left them to their chess and started to go through my mail. Most of it was unremarkable, but I did, at last, have a response from the Scolfield family’s housekeeper.
Dear Lady Emily,
I was distressed by your letter as it made me fear you think Mr. Archibald’s death could have been, in a way, the result of some character flaw of his own. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. I have known Mr. Archibald—do please forgive me for continuing to refer to him by the name by which he was known in this house rather than his new title—from birth, and have never seen him exhibit the slightest disrespect to any of his family’s servants. No maid has ever come to me with a complaint about his behavior, and his father would never have tolerated the attitude of entitlement that often leads young gentlemen astray when it comes to such matters.
Do not think, however, that I gave your missive anything short of the greatest and most serious consideration. I have spoken to the steward and the underbutler, as well as all of the maids, the cook, and the girls who work in the laundry, and no one has experienced or heard anything that would impugn Mr. Archibald’s reputation as the finest sort of gentleman.
Had I learned otherwise, I would not hesitate to pass the information along to you, as I consider it one of my most important duties to protect and take care of the household staff. I would never stay in a house where inappropriate behavior on the part of the master’s son was allowed. Furthermore, I would share with you anything I uncovered because, no matter how terrible that sort of behavior is, it does not merit death as its penalty. I, like everyone here, want to see Mr. Archibald’s killer brought to justice.
I am your humble servant &c.
I drew my eyebrows together and considered her words with the utmost care. She seemed credible, I decided, and then I thought more about Archibald. Before I could make any headway on a study of his character, Davis entered the ro
om and asked to speak to me in private.
“Do forgive me, madam,” he said after we had retired to the library, “but I thought this matter required your immediate attention. One of the kitchen maids, Prudence, has informed Mrs. Elliott that Lily has been”—he cleared his throat—“seen in a compromising position with Lord Flyte.”
“Dear me, Simon?” I was aghast. “Are you quite certain?”
“Not quite, madam, which is why Mrs. Elliott has done nothing more than give Lily a sharp talking-to. Prudence has a deep dislike of the girl, and should not have been in a position to witness what she says she did. She ought to have been in the kitchen when it occurred. None of the other members of the staff saw anything out of the ordinary.”
“What does Lily say about it?” I asked.
“Lily admits to having something of a friendship with Lord Flyte, madam,” he said. “As I am sure you can understand, I find this sort of thing most alarming, as it can never lead to a good end for the girl.”
“No, of course not,” I said. “Lord Flyte has a habit of being overly familiar with his own servants, though I assure you never in the way that Pru is suggesting. I shall speak to him at once and ask him to leave Lily alone.”
“Thank you, madam. I was hoping you would offer as much. Lily is a good worker, and, if you’ll forgive me, while I do believe you are sincere in what you say about Lord Flyte, my own experience has shown again and again that one never can be sure what sort of gentleman might trifle with a maid. I would not want to see Lily ruined.”
*
Simon moaned, sending Iphitos tearing from the room, and threw an arm over his face when I returned to the study and relayed the details of my conversation with Davis to him.
“Emily, Simon would never—”
“I am not saying I doubt Simon,” I said, “but—”
“No, no,” Simon said. “I appreciate that you both trust me, but I do admit to having taken liberties of conversation with Lily. I would never have tried to corrupt her, but I do like her exceedingly well and want to know her better. Did you know that in London she used to go to the National Gallery on her free afternoons? That she is a self-taught artist, who has learned by copying great masterpieces? She is trying to make something of her natural talent. Are you aware that she dreams of becoming a lady’s maid so that she might travel?”
“I do not believe you are in need of a lady’s maid, Flyte,” Colin said.
“I am not attempting to be lighthearted,” Simon said. “Lily is a woman of undeveloped talents. I want to enable her to make more of her life than she can as a housemaid.”
“I agree, Simon, that she has much promise,” I said. “Nanny thinks that if Lily were to receive an education she would make an excellent governess. There is no doubt she has the capability to be more than a maid. She has a sense for the aesthetic that not many in her position possess. Her eye for beauty, her talent for drawing, and her voice—she sings like an angel—are extraordinary. Furthermore, she possesses a natural elegance of movement that complements her extremely attractive features. I cannot say I am shocked that you should find her appealing.”
“I want to know her better,” Simon said.
“Flyte, you know you cannot do that,” Colin said.
“I don’t see why not,” Simon said. “It’s not as if I am trying to seduce her.”
“You cannot have a friendship with a maid,” Colin said. “What would it do to the poor girl other than distract her from her work, which can lead to all kinds of trouble and spark jealousy, as it has already done?”
“More than that, though, Simon, it gives her false hope,” I said. “It is not as if there is a chance you would marry her.” I paused, studying his face. He was not entirely composed. His complexion flushed, and a deep crease showed between his eyebrows. There was a general air of nervousness about him. “Is there?”
“How can I know if I am not allowed to spend more time with her?”
“Flyte, you cannot possibly be suggesting—” Colin started, but Simon raised a hand to silence him.
“I know I have been remiss,” Simon said, “but isn’t it time that we admit our servants aren’t so far below us? I want to know Lily better. I should like to spend her next afternoon off with her, walking the grounds at Anglemore together. What harm is there in that? Who is to say I can’t have a meaningful friendship with her? I would hardly be the first gentleman to embark on such a journey.”
“Sir Henry Meux married a woman who was generously described as an actress,” I said, “and we have all heard stories of gentlemen who became … entangled, shall we say … with their children’s governesses.”
“A governess is a far cry from a housemaid,” Colin said, “despite what Nanny may feel about Lily’s potential.”
“I am not married with children,” Simon said. “Surely what I suggest is more respectable?”
“Do either of you remember the story of Sir Harry Fetherstonhaugh? It happened years ago. He fell in love with a dairymaid on his estate. I believe it was her singing voice that first attracted him.” I raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Simon. “He proposed to her almost the moment he learned her identity from his housekeeper.”
“Did she accept?” Colin asked.
“Of course she did!” I laughed. “Can you really think anyone would prefer dairy work to being mistress of an estate? She was sent to Paris for some time before the wedding and given an education, and after the marriage they were notoriously happy.”
“Was she accepted by her husband’s friends?” Colin asked.
“By some,” I said. “The enlightened ones. Ones like you. As for the rest, and, I imagine, some of the servants, the arrangement was viewed as a catastrophic mistake.”
“If the couple were happy, what matter the views of the rest?” Simon asked.
“I will not argue that it matters in any fundamental way,” I said, “but it does make for a more difficult road.”
“A fact of which I am well aware,” Simon said.
“If you are determined to spend more time with Lily while you are at Anglemore, what will happen when you go back home?” Colin asked. “Where will that leave her?”
“In the same position it leaves you, Hargreaves. We can write to each other.”
“It is different with a lady than with a man,” Colin said.
“That’s not necessarily true,” I said. “I have gentlemen with whom I correspond in a completely nonromantic way.”
Colin started to pace. “I do not want the girl trifled with.”
“Nor do I want to trifle with her,” Simon said. “She has a sharp mind and a desire to see the world. I can tell her what life is like beyond the shores of England. In fact, I have already started to do just that. I gave her a book.”
“A book?” I asked.
“I should have told you before,” he said. “It was nothing much, just a small series of sketches of places abroad. If you could have seen the way her face lit up when she opened it…”
“Flyte! What can you have been thinking?” Colin asked.
“I should have asked your permission, perhaps,” Simon said. “Though I must confess I did not think she was your feudal serf.”
“Point taken,” Colin said. “Emily, do you object to this friendship, so long as it crosses no bounds of propriety?”
“No, I can’t say that I do, and I shouldn’t think you, with your radical views about the evils of aristocratic society, would either.”
“Then, Flyte, you have my feudal—or futile—permission,” Colin said. “But act with extreme care.”
“Of course,” Simon said. “You have my word as a gentleman.”
“Perhaps…” I paused, hardly knowing how to continue. “If things go well between you and Lily, and you both—it is essential you both agree on the matter—desire to continue the acquaintance, we might be able to arrange things in a more suitable fashion.”
“How so?” Simon asked.
“I am t
hinking of Sir Harry and his dairymaid,” I said. “Perhaps we could find a situation that would enable Lily to acquire the social graces necessary to you furthering your acquaintance while also making it possible for you to court her in a more traditional manner.”
“Have you something in mind?” Simon asked.
“Colin, your mother is preparing to set up house in London, is she not? She might appreciate having a companion with her, specially as she has been out of society for so long. Lily does have an aptitude for art and music, both of which your mother appreciates, and might very well get along famously with her. I could write to your mother and see if she would consider Lily for the position.”
“You think Lily would make a suitable companion for a well-respected widow?” Colin asked.
“I do,” I said, “considering your mother’s borderline revolutionary views about most political matters. Lily is polite and attractive and would benefit enormously from the sort of education your mother could offer. Your mother would derive great pleasure from the scandal her choice would cause among the old dragons of London society.”
“My mother would very much enjoy having someone to educate,” Colin said, drawing his brows together, “and enjoy even more tormenting the ton.”
“Companions are often ladies from families whose financial fortunes have turned. Lily is not so very different from them, is she?” Simon asked.
“She is in service, Flyte,” Colin said. He had started to pace. “That is an altogether different thing. I agree, however, that she is, so far as I can tell, as worthy of the position as anyone else society would deem acceptable.”
“Darling,” I said, touching his arm, “your mother would be mortified if she thought you believed she wanted a companion deemed acceptable by society. She would much rather view herself as Lily’s rescuer.”
He nodded. “Quite right.”
“I shall write to her when the time comes,” I said, “assuming the time does come. Simon, you shall have to be very, very charming.”
Downstairs
xiv
Lily was thankful it was so easy for her to avoid Pru, and for the first time since her arrival at Anglemore Park took great and almost smug satisfaction in the knowledge that her own position in the household was so far above that of kitchen maid. It was uncharitable, she knew, but Pru got nothing less than what she deserved. She could have taught herself, as Lily had, to behave in a way that would have enabled her to work upstairs, or she could pay better attention to Cook and start making her way up in the kitchen. If she had any ambition, she might already be a pastry cook or be doing sauces. Instead she whinged and meddled in other people’s lives. Then there was the matter of Johnny. It was only a matter of time before Pru’s antics in the stables got her in real trouble.
Behind the Shattered Glass: A Lady Emily Mystery (Lady Emily Mysteries) Page 18
