“What did she say to you when she came to get it?”
He looked at his boots.
“Johnny, this is extremely important.”
“She asked me to help her, madam,” he said, “and I did. We didn’t go walking the night of the murder. I hadn’t taken up with her until after that. I’d been sweet on Alice, you see, but then Pru, well, she came to me and … well, madam, I shouldn’t say any more.”
“I believe we have already discussed the need for you to eliminate those activities from your repertoire,” I said. “Why did you tell me you were with Prudence?”
“Like I said, she was afraid. She had been out walking, and she saw Lily, but she knew that if no one else had seen her, Lily might get away with her crime and come after Pru.”
“So she asked you to corroborate her story?”
“Yes, madam,” he said.
“That was a very terrible, very damaging lie, Johnny.”
“I’m sorry, madam.”
“Had Prudence other sweethearts before you?” I asked.
“No, madam, just me. She was always setting her sights high, you see. She had a cousin who wound up with a nice settlement after having the baby of her employer’s son. I told her it was daft to try to do the same, that things didn’t usually work out like that, that her cousin had been lucky. Eventually she started to believe me, I guess, because she started coming around the stables more and more to talk to me.”
“After the murder?”
“Yes, madam.”
“That’s all for now, Johnny,” I said. “I want you to go to the house and see Mr. Davis. He’ll know why I’ve sent you.”
“I suppose I should gather up my things.” There was a distinct sound of regret in his voice.
“I am not sending you away, Johnny,” I said. “I shall decide what to do about this incident later. For now I need to make sure you do not leave the house.”
We marched him to the house and deposited him with Davis, who was less than amused to hear Johnny’s story. I left them to it and went to see Cook.
“Lady Emily, I’m at my wits’ end with the comings and goings in my kitchen,” she said. “I need a calm space in which to work if I am to uphold this house’s reputation as the greatest culinary center in the country.”
This stopped me in my tracks. When had Cook started talking like this? There was no time to inquire now. “I assure you everything will improve as soon as we have settled our investigation. I need to know something of critical importance now, however. Did you have occasion to send Prudence to Montagu Manor in the days before the murder?”
“I did, madam. Lady Matilda’s cook was running into a host of problems, what with three of her girls down with the influenza. I told her I could spare Pru during the two mornings before Lady Matilda’s party.”
Prudence could have met Archibald when she was at Montagu. Given what we knew of his proclivity for other people’s servants, he could have seen her, taken a fancy to her, and set up a rendezvous in the ruined abbey.
I turned to Matilda. “We need to find Lily at once.”
“If Prudence is the guilty party, why are you so worried about Lily?”
“Can you imagine her frame of mind? I’m afraid she may do harm to herself.”
Downstairs
xx
Pru had to actually bite her tongue, bite it until it bled, to keep from laughing when everyone started frantically looking for Lily. It had been disgracefully easy to set a trap for her, Pru thought, and it was just what Lily deserved. What a delight to see that, sometimes, justice could so easily be served, even if it did require a little manipulation here and there. Pru was pleased as punch, like those puppets she had seen once at Covent Garden in London when her mother had taken the children before she got sick. Things had turned bad for her family shortly after that trip, but Pru didn’t want to think about that now. Now everything was going her way.
At least it had been until Mr. Davis marched into the kitchen and took her firmly by the arm and all but dragged her into his room next to the Pug’s Parlor. She had been waiting there for what seemed like an eternity. He hadn’t said more than six words to her—five, now that she thought about it, Do not leave this room—and then had left her all alone. He had closed the door behind him when he went, and she had heard the lock click, but now there was a great deal of commotion in the corridor. She even thought she heard Lady Emily’s voice. Something had happened. Something bad, and she was in a right heap of trouble, that was for sure.
She looked out the window and then really started to worry. Johnny had better keep his rotten mouth shut. Tears smarted in her eyes, and she brushed them away, angry, with the back of her hand. She didn’t deserve any of this. She hadn’t even wanted to leave her family and had begged her mother to find her a position closer to home, but there was nothing else to be done, not with her mother sick, her father dead, and only two of her siblings old enough to work. Her mother wrote to her every week, but Pru couldn’t read the letters. She’d never learned. Once a month on her day off she took them to the smithy’s in the village. His daughter would read them to her and take down her reply.
She had never let on how lonely she was. Not to her mother. That would have caused her to worry, and the doctor had said worrying would only make the consumption worse. So she had the smithy’s daughter write that she had lots of friends, that she was popular among the staff, and that the girl she shared her room with could read and write and helped her with her letters. It was a small lie, Pru thought, one that didn’t hurt nobody. It saved her mother a heap of concern. She had enough of that at home, specially since Pru’s brother had been chucked out of Her Majesty’s Army.
The sounds coming through the door were becoming more frantic. She heard rushed footsteps in the corridor and banging doors. Ordinarily, banged doors were not tolerated. Then there was a clatter at the door. Mr. Davis opened it, his face grim. He was holding Johnny, who looked quite a lot like death, by the collar. Mrs. Elliott was right behind them, her sourpuss face worse then ever. Pru knew she was in for it.
“I want to talk to you, Prudence,” Mr. Davis said. “Johnny is going to join us.”
21
Davis had Prudence well in hand. She would not be able to flee as Lily had, and I had absolute confidence he could keep both the kitchen maid and Johnny secure until I was ready to deal with them. Matilda and I went upstairs in a flurry, but I stopped in the great hall and leaned against the wall, my nerves strung tight. “Where could Lily have gone?”
“Could Prudence have done something to her?” Matilda asked.
“She was in the kitchen when Lily left, and hasn’t gone out since. I think Lily left of her own volition, but if she was afraid of Prudence—perhaps because she has some evidence against her—she may be trying to protect herself, which is a very different state than running from a murder charge.”
“But wouldn’t she have come forward with evidence of that sort?”
“Not if Prudence had some means of making her think that would be a dangerous choice.” I rubbed my temples and considered everything I knew about Lily. Then, all at once, it came to me.
“Lily is a Roman Catholic,” I said.
“Is this relevant?” Matilda asked.
“Very much so. Come.” We flew to the stables and asked for a carriage. “She is quite discreet about her faith. Doesn’t discuss it much and keeps it to herself. She goes to church in our chapel at Anglemore most of the time, but asks permission once a month to be driven to the nearest Catholic church to hear mass.”
“Of course! She’s sought sanctuary in the church,” Matilda said.
“Not quite,” I said. “Champneys, the Nevinsons’ estate, is barely a mile from the train station. More importantly, it was owned by Catholic sympathizers during Elizabeth’s reign.” I ordered the driver to take us to the house.
“Are the Nevinsons Catholic?”
“No, I don’t believe so,” I said, “but there is a pe
rfect place in the house for her to hide, unnoticed, until she can slip out tomorrow and get to the train. That would be safer than trying to go tonight, when she would know Prudence would be sure to be looking for her.”
Champneys loomed above us, a baroque monstrosity. The butler seemed confused at finding us unexpectedly on his master’s doorstep, and asked us to wait in the hall while he informed Mr. Nevinson of our arrival. A few minutes later, he led us into an oak-paneled library, where the master of the house greeted us.
“Lady Emily,” he said. “This is a delightful surprise. You are very wicked to call without warning me. Mrs. Nevinson has already gone up to bed, and she will be so disappointed to have missed you.” Mr. Nevinson was ninety-seven if he was a day, and his wife couldn’t have been much younger. They had been a fixture in the neighborhood since they purchased Champneys sixty-odd years ago when its previous owner, a baron of low character who was both financially and morally bankrupt, sold it to keep his gambling habit afloat.
“You must beg her forgiveness for me,” I said. “I’ve come on a matter of urgent business. You know, of course, about the murder of the Marquess of Montagu?”
“Oh yes, quite a dirty business, that,” he said.
“I have reason to believe one of the people important to the case is hiding in your house.”
“I say! You don’t think Mrs. Nevinson has murderous tendencies?” He gave me a pat on the arm and grinned.
“Far from it. It is not someone from your family or household.”
“We’ve had no visitors for many weeks, Lady Emily. I think you must be mistaken.”
“It is one of my maids, Mr. Nevinson. She’s not a suspect, but we believe she may have information critical to solving the crime.”
He rang for the butler, who confirmed that no one had entered the house that evening.
“She would have been very careful not to be seen,” I said. “Would it trouble you for me to look for her? I have a fair idea where she would have gone.”
“This is quite more excitement than I am accustomed to. Lead on, dear lady. I shall accompany you, and do anything necessary to protect you from this murderous miscreant.”
I looped my arm through his, and we stepped into the corridor. “Will you take us to the priest hole?”
“Blimey, that is of course where you would hide in Champneys, wouldn’t you?”
We made our way through corridors and room after room and up stairs until we reached a chamber in the back of the house on the second floor. Red silk hung from its walls, and white pilasters stood in each corner.
“Now then,” Mr. Nevinson said, “I just have to remember which of these it is.” He pulled at one of the pilasters, then shook his head and went to the one opposite. “Here we go.” It opened like a door, revealing a small room behind. There, crouched in the corner weeping, was Lily, clutching the small bundle of her possessions.
I stepped through the opening in the wall and went to her, kneeling at her side, and took her gently in my arms. “It’s all right, Lily,” I said. “You must tell me everything that happened.”
“Are the police here yet?”
“No, Lily, we haven’t sent for them.”
“I can’t face it, madam, I can’t face what I did.”
“Lily, we know about Prudence,” I said. “It’s going to be all right. We know she destroyed your book and that she took your painting.”
“None of that matters, Lady Emily,” Lily said, trembling out of control. “I killed him, madam. I killed Lord Montagu, and God will never be able to forgive me.”
*
Mr. Nevinson offered us tea, exclaiming he’d never before had occasion to entertain a murderess. I thanked him but made our regrets. I wanted to get Lily back to Anglemore. Once home, I installed her in the library, sent Matilda to the white drawing room, rang for tea, and asked Lily to tell me exactly what had happened the night of the murder. It took half an hour to get her calm enough to speak. Eventually I called for a glass of brandy, hoping it would steady her nerves. Either it did, or enough time had passed that she was again in control of her senses.
“Please don’t accuse Pru of anything worse than she did,” Lily said. “We’ve never got along, and probably never would have, but she’s guilty of nothing like my sins.”
“Tell me what happened, Lily.”
“I should have never gone out that night,” she said, “but the moon was so beautiful, and I’d finished up with most of my work. I still needed to do your dressing room, but I knew you’d be up late as I’d heard you arguing with Lady Bromley before dinner. Forgive me, madam, but I’ve noticed that whenever she upsets you, you stay downstairs until at least midnight. I thought I had time, you see, and I went for a little walk.”
“To look at the moon?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t want to go too far, but was so taken with it that I kept on walking, on and on, as if I would perhaps reach it. The moon, that is.” She drew her eyebrows close together. “Eventually I came to the old abbey and it was the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen. The moon so bright, reflected in the lake and on the crumbling stone walls. I stood there for a little while, and then I realized I wasn’t alone. I smelled cigar smoke.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Not at first,” she said, “but I thought it would be best to go back to the house. I didn’t know who was out there, but I figured it must be a gentleman, given the cigar, and I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to be outside alone with whoever it was. So I turned around and had only taken two or three steps when he grabbed me from behind and pulled me tight against him.”
“Who was it, Lily?”
“It was Lord Montagu,” she said, the tears flowing again. “He said I looked like I wanted a kiss and I told him I didn’t and to please let me go, but he wouldn’t. I tried to squirm loose, but I couldn’t get away, and it only seemed to amuse him. He said he likes girls with spirit.”
“Horrible man.”
“He took me real firm then, dragged me into the old abbey, and threw me down on the ground just in front of the ruins of the altar. That made him laugh.”
“I am so sorry, Lily,” I said.
“I was desperate, madam, desperate,” she said. “He was coming towards me again, and I reached around for the first thing I could find to defend myself. I could just get my hands on that piece of stone, and he was back, pushing himself on me. I kicked him as hard as I could and whacked him over the head. I never meant to kill him, I just wanted him to stop. If I had known he would die, I would have just let him do what he wanted.”
My heart broke for the girl. “What happened then?”
“I was so scared I could hardly think. I went back to the house to finish my work, but my dress was all dusty and torn in one place, so I had to go change my uniform before getting to your dressing room, madam. That’s why I was late in finishing.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone what happened?”
“Who would’ve believed me?” She was sobbing now. “I didn’t know he was dead. All I could think was that he’d never admit what he tried to do, and that no one would take my word over his. I’m just a maid, madam.”
“I would have believed you, Lily.”
“When he came into the house, madam, I just about died myself. I knew then God would never forgive me. It was a sign, him dying here.”
“It was the nearest place he could go,” I said. “There was nothing more to it than that.”
“Then I thought maybe I should tell you, but then Lord Flyte was so sweet, and I wanted to believe that he really did like talking to me just because he liked me, not because he likes his girls with spirit, if you get my meaning. I thought if he knew what happened, he wouldn’t speak to me again. Not that he will now, anyway.”
“But you had to know someone would eventually be blamed for the murder?”
“I could never have stood by and let someone else take the blame for what I did. I can’t imagine anyt
hing worse than allowing an innocent person to suffer for my hideous misdeed. I know what I’ve done is unforgivable. I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. I suppose I just hoped that in the end no one else would be put in harm’s way, that the police would decide it was an unsolvable case. They never caught Jack the Ripper, did they? Still, I have behaved disgracefully. I’ve caused so many problems and made so many people upset. I am more sorry than I will ever be able to say.”
“What you did after you returned to the house was very, very bad,” I said, “but no one could fault you for what happened at the abbey. You were defending yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m going to hang.”
“I will not stand for any histrionics, Lily,” I said. “Mr. Hargreaves will know what to do.”
“I can’t accept any help from him.”
“I said no histrionics, Lily. Tell me, why did you say you saw someone coming towards the servants’ entrance after the murder?”
“I was trying to give myself an alibi,” she said, “and I thought by saying it was a man, it would throw suspicion away from me. I know it was a terrible thing to do, but Pru said she saw someone, so I thought I’d just go along with her. It seemed like less of a lie because of that.”
There was a sharp knock at the door, and Colin stepped inside. “Davis rode out himself to find me. He’s a fine horseman.”
“Davis is full of surprises,” I said. “I think you should sit down. Lily has quite a story for you.”
She managed to get through it without tears this time, and I quite admired her bravery. It was not an easy thing to tell, especially to a gentleman one knew one would have to face again and again. Colin sat across from her, leaning forward, his arms casually crossed, and didn’t take his eyes off her for an instant while she talked.
“Why did you run away?” Colin asked. “Why now?”
“I changed back into my uniform after the picnic, and was heading downstairs when Pru came bounding up to me. She told me new evidence had been found and that the police knew who the murderer was. I already thought she suspected me—I thought that’s why she was so vicious about Simon, I mean, about Lord Flyte—and I panicked. I couldn’t bear to face him, not after that wonderful day, and let him know the awful thing I had done.”
Behind the Shattered Glass Page 26
