Behind the Shattered Glass

by Tasha Alexander

  “You should have told us at once, Lily,” Colin said. “Your case will be much more difficult to defend because you did not. Have you washed and mended the dress you were wearing that night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s very bad. Did you have any marks or bruises after the altercation with Montagu?”

  “I was quite bruised up.”

  “Are any of the bruises still there?”

  “Just one, on my hip, from when he threw me on the ground.”

  “Emily, send for the doctor immediately. I want him to document the bruise.”

  I rang the bell and did as he asked. Before long, the doctor had arrived and examined Lily with me standing by as witness. He wrote up a report at once and told us he was prepared to testify as to what he had seen. Unfortunately, though, he could not make any strong statements about how Lily had got the bruise. He, too, scolded her for not having come forward sooner, but there was an edge in his voice that suggested his opinion of her was lower for what she had suffered.

  “Do you think there is any hope for her?” I asked Colin when we were alone again.

  “It is going to be very difficult,” he said.

  “I have an idea. How willing are you to exploit your reputation as an agent of the highest discretion who is particularly skilled in matters concerning the reputations of the aristocracy?”

  “My dear, do you not know me at all? I am extraordinarily willing. Tell me your wicked plan.”

  Downstairs

  xxi

  Mr. Davis’s room was set up as a comfortable space to read or smoke or drink or whatever it was men did when they were finished with work. Pru had never spent much time in it, as it would not have been appropriate for the butler to entertain a kitchen maid. Sometimes she heard him and Mrs. Elliott having a laugh over a cuppa tea in there, but that was different. Mrs. Elliott was the housekeeper. Pru had always thought it was a large room, far bigger than any one person really ought to need all for himself, but then, she would remind herself, every room above stairs would have dwarfed the butler’s space. Some people, she thought, were bent on always having more than they deserved.

  Now, however, as Mr. Davis, Mrs. Elliott, and Johnny came into the room, where she had spent heaven knows how long locked in, the place felt cramped and overcrowded. It wasn’t the people so much as the anger filling the air. Pru looked at Johnny, who looked away from her, and she felt tears smart in her eyes. He had ratted her out, the ungrateful louse. That was the only explanation, and Pru hated herself for having ever trusted him. She should have known better. She wished she could fling herself to the ground and have a good cry, but that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Her life was ruined now, and that wretched Lily was going to come out on top, bright as sunshine, getting everything Pru had ever wanted. Lily didn’t deserve a bit of it.

  Mr. Davis looked at Pru and then at Johnny, his lined face stern and foreboding. “You are both incredibly fortunate to work for such a generous and understanding family as the Hargreaveses,” he said. “Johnny, you have lied and revealed yourself to be someone who cannot be trusted. However, the head groom tells us your work is good and has offered to keep a close eye on you. You will not lose your position, but for the next six months will have no days off, and should you show even the slightest hint of misbehavior—you take my meaning—or slacking off you will be gone without a character.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Johnny said. “That is more than I could have ever expected.”

  “That’s quite right,” Mr. Davis said. “Furthermore, Mr. Hargreaves himself is going to be checking up on you and will meet with you once a week when he is in residence to make sure you are not going off the rails.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Johnny had never looked so humble.

  “He believes you should have a second chance instead of being flung out with no hope of going anywhere but to the streets. I do hope you do not squander this opportunity.”

  “I won’t, Mr. Davis, sir. I promise.”

  “As for you, Prudence.” Pru tried not to squirm as he turned to her. “Your offenses are far more grave than Johnny’s. You cannot retain your position in this house. However, Lady Emily has decided to sponsor you at a school for girls of your station, where you will receive an education that she hopes you will put to good use. You will also be taught needlework, a skill that will broaden the scope of jobs for which you may be qualified. She said to tell you it is nearer to your mother.”

  “Sir! I don’t deserve it,” Pru said.

  “No, you do not, but Lady Emily feels strongly that you will never learn to do good until someone has first done it to you.”

  Pru didn’t know what to say, and she couldn’t keep herself from crying any longer. She sobbed, great, wet, heaving sobs.

  “Stop that at once,” Mrs. Elliott said. “Go upstairs and pack your things, you useless girl. You will be leaving before breakfast in the morning.”

  “I must thank Lady Emily,” Pru said.

  “She would like you to write her when you have learned to do so,” Mr. Davis said. “In the meantime she is far too busy to be troubled with you any further.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pru said. “Please do tell her I’m grateful and that I won’t let her down. Not again, that is.” She gave Johnny a long look, realizing she’d never see him anymore, and went upstairs, wondering how she would explain this news to her mother. She couldn’t tell her the truth, not the whole truth anyway. Not the part about how she’d lied. She’d tell her she’d been Lady Emily’s favorite and that she’d been treated almost like one of the family and that … no. Pru’s heart sank. What if her mother wrote to Lady Emily? She’d be caught in even more lies, and Lady Emily wouldn’t forgive her again. The truth would have to do.

  22

  Colin and I spent the bulk of the night setting our plan into motion. Once the search for Fanny Gifford in France had ended, he had redirected his efforts and focused instead on marriage records. That afternoon, with the help of Scotland Yard, he had at last found her, tracking her through a marriage license issued at Gretna Green. Once he knew the name of her groom, she had been easy enough to find in Richmond, where her new husband practiced law.

  “Mr. Gifford will be pleased about that,” I said, “but furious that his sister let him worry for so long.”

  “She knew he would be angry at the elopement, especially after what had happened with Archibald Scolfield,” Colin said. “She decided—against the advice of her husband, I might add—to wait until they had been married a month to send word to her brother. Apparently she felt that was long enough to convince him the marriage was real.”

  “Was there ever any doubt that it was?”

  “No. Her husband should have taken the matter more firmly in hand. “

  “I did not expect things to have turned out so well for her.”

  “Nor did I,” Colin said. “Apparently she did meet her husband at one of Mrs. Chelmsford’s dreadful dances. He tried to call on her thereafter, but wasn’t allowed.”

  “Mrs. Chelmsford would not have wanted anyone coming in without having given enough notice for her to make the school look less horrendous than normal.”

  “He thought it rather odd, so he started writing to Miss Gifford. They fell in love, and he proposed, still via letter. He was horrified by what she had told him about the school and arranged to spirit her away in the night. He seems a most decent man. I think she will be happy.”

  “My ownership of the school becomes official next week. Mrs. Chelmsford will be let go the moment the papers are signed. I am very much looking forward to it,” I said. “The solicitors have found a building for us, an estate near Hampstead that has fallen into a bit of disrepair—the family ran out of money. We can get it for a good price, and have it ready for the girls by the spring.”

  “What about a head teacher?”

  “Already taken care of,” I said. “I’ve been reading letters of application almost since the day I first met Mrs. Chel
msford. The solicitors have been a great help, as has your mother. She had a host of useful suggestions. Now, what about the rest of our plan?”

  “The former Miss Gifford will meet us in London tomorrow. Have you heard back from Mrs. Tindall and Mr. Porter?”

  “Yes, they both sent wires in reply to ours. We can count on them. Miss Fitzgerald will travel down with us.”

  “Very good,” Colin said. “This is taking shape nicely. So nicely, in fact, that I believe we need not think about it anymore tonight. It has been a rather trying day, though, don’t you think?”

  “Quite,” I said, thrilling at the way his eyes danced when he asked the question.

  “So trying that I find myself in dire need of distraction. Can you think of anything that might work to put the events of the day out of my head? If not, I don’t see how I shall be able to sleep for even a moment, and I do need to be sharp in the morning.”

  “I see,” I said. “So if I can’t distract you, I would be putting at risk everything we are trying to accomplish?”

  “Precisely.” He pulled me out of my chair, drew me close to him, and kissed the back of my neck, sending delicious shivers through my entire body.

  “It sounds almost as important as Crown business,” I said.

  “Quite possibly even more important.”

  I turned and kissed him, very slowly and very deliberately, and then took him by the hand. “Come upstairs, my dear, as I am most concerned. You look in dire need of immediate assistance. For the sake of the Crown, of course.”

  *

  The next morning, almost before the sun had come up, we went to London by special train, coaching Miss Fitzgerald during the trip. Lily was with us as well, but she sat in a separate compartment with Davis. When we arrived at Park Lane, Davis and Lily went downstairs, while Colin and I went into the library, where Mr. Porter and Mrs. Tindall were already waiting. We spent over an hour explaining to them what was going to happen and having them practice their testimony so that it would go smoothly when it counted. Soon thereafter, Miss Gifford—now Mrs. Ross—and her new husband joined us. We took the two of them aside, into Colin’s study, to speak with them privately, wanting to be certain of the precise narrative of their story before continuing. Every detail needed to be right. We were fortunate to be in a circumstance where the truth was all we needed, but clarity was essential to achieve our goal. To ensure that, we wanted our guests—our witnesses—to feel at ease and well prepared.

  At one o’clock, Davis brought in Sir James, a gentleman I had never met, but had heard mentioned more times than I could count. So far as I had been able to tell, he was Colin’s contact, if that is the right word, when it came to matters that concerned the Palace. Sir James reached out to him when the Crown needed his assistance, and Colin reported back to Sir James. I had, on more than one occasion, suggested that my husband invite his colleague to dinner, but Colin had always refused, saying they preferred not to be linked together unless absolutely necessary. The fact that Sir James was now in our house was indicative of the serious nature of the circumstance before us. He and Colin shook hands, exchanged a few quiet words, and sat down across from our assembled guests.

  “You understand how difficult this all is,” Colin said. “The Scolfields have suffered a terrible loss, and while of course we all want justice, in this case the publicity that would stem from a public trial would only serve to hurt the family more. As a result, we thought it best to give you a taste of the testimony in private, before you decide how to handle the remainder of this extremely delicate situation. I know we all want to avoid scandal. This is a situation that requires an extraordinary amount of discretion.”

  “Proceed,” Sir James said.

  “Mrs. Ross, I should like to start with you,” Colin said. “Would you please relate to us all that happened between yourself and Mr. Archibald Scolfield?”

  Mrs. Ross shot a pained look at her husband, who nodded to her and squeezed her hand. “I was living near Munich, you see, where my brother runs an inn. We moved there shortly after our parents died. I met Mr. Scolfield—he told me to call him Archie—when he and that gentleman”—she pointed at Mr. Porter—“were guests in the inn. They stayed with us for quite a while, though I can’t tell you the precise number of days. During that time, Mr. Scolfield struck up a friendship with me. He told me he was so pleased to see an English rose after having spent so much time on the Continent. I’d never before had a gentleman pay that sort of attention to me, you see. I wouldn’t have expected one to.” She hesitated and looked at her husband, who squeezed her hand and nodded as if to reassure her. She took a deep breath before continuing. “The long and short of it, Sir James, is that Mr. Scolfield seduced me and used me in a most notorious manner before throwing me over and refusing to have anything further to do with me. It was the worst thing that could ever happen to a young lady.”

  “I appreciate how difficult this is for you to discuss, Mrs. Ross,” Sir James said, “but I am afraid I am going to need a few more details. Would you step over here with me? A bit of privacy may make things easier for you.” He took her across the room, where no one else would be able to hear what she said, and kept her there for more than half an hour. When she returned to us, we could all see the signs of upset on her stony, pale face. She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes, her cheeks were bright red, and her hands were shaking.

  “Mrs. Tindall, we will hear from you next,” Colin said.

  “I, Sir James, am mortified that I ever let Mr. Scolfield into my inn. I run a very respectable establishment, you see, and never thought a member of one of our nation’s great families would do such evil to a poor maid.” She told, in riveting if overdramatic detail, of the seduction and ruin of her employee. When she had finished, Mr. Porter spoke, detailing his experience at Oxford and the subsequent falling-out with the man he had considered his closest friend. Then Miss Fitzgerald reported her experience of the decidedly ungentlemanly behavior of Archibald Scolfield. Through it all, Sir James revealed not an iota of emotion. He was the picture of an impartial judge. He was respectful and considerate—he pulled Miss Fitzgerald to the side when he required additional details from her—but gave no indication of what his verdict, if we could call it that, would be. When everyone had finished, an uncomfortable hush fell over the room. I rose from my seat.

  “Thank you all for agreeing to come to us today. I know how difficult it is to discuss such private and painful things. Your candor is much appreciated. I do hope this scene does not have to be reproduced in public.”

  They all dispersed quietly, and we were alone with Sir James.

  “It is time you speak to the girl herself,” Colin said. “Come with me.”

  I had wanted to accompany them, and had argued about it the night before with my husband, but in the end had to agree to whatever would produce the best result for Lily. Much as I wanted to provide her emotional support during what would be a difficult interview, it was more important that Sir James feel everything had been conducted in the proper way. So I waited for more than three-quarters of an hour while the gentlemen spoke with Lily and Davis below stairs.

  It was juvenile, I suppose, but I sat on a chair I had pulled near to the top of the servants’ stairs in the great hall. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation, but I would be aware the instant their boots hit the steps, signaling that they were finished. Once it was evident they were coming, I scrambled to return the chair to its normal location and ducked back into the library. I heard their voices, muffled by the door, then I heard more footsteps, and then I heard the front door of the house open and close. I peeked out the window to see Sir James making his way down Park Lane.

  “Devious girl,” Colin said, entering the room. “Spying on us, were you?”

  “Of course I was,” I said. “It was beastly to be left out of the final bits. What happened?”

  “Sir James feels strongly that no good could come from smearing the Marquess of Montagu’s go
od name after his terrible death. After hearing how Archibald had behaved with so many other girls, he had no difficulty believing Lily’s testimony of what happened before the murder. He agrees she is not guilty by reason of self-defense, and, in the circumstances, the Crown will not file charges against her.”

  I let out an enormous sigh. “That is a much-welcome relief.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You seem less pleased than I,” I said.

  “Not at all. I’m more pleased than you can imagine to have been able to twist the special favors granted to the upper class to get justice for Lily.”

  “Yet it still troubles you that there are people who get any special favors?”

  “It would trouble me more if I didn’t know how to manipulate the system to the benefit of justice,” he said. “Right now, however, I want to get back to Anglemore. I need to speak to Flyte.”

  We left, almost at once, on another special train, this time traveling in the same compartment with Lily and Davis. Three of us were jubilant, but Lily’s spirits were low.

  “It doesn’t feel right,” she said. “I killed a man and I’m not being punished.”

  “Lily, you killed a man to save yourself,” Colin said. “That is a very different thing from murder in cold blood.”

  “I still killed him.” She screwed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. “I took a life and will never be able to forgive myself.”

  “God will forgive you,” Davis said, his voice all business. “No doubt he already has. One can only imagine a deity has far more nefarious things with which to concern himself. Now, I cannot have you distracting yourself from your work with this, Lily. The State Rooms need a complete cleaning, and I cannot trust anyone else with the details of that but you. The woodwork is a diabolical mess after one of the footmen tried to polish it. You know how intricate the carving is. It requires an expert hand to keep it in tip-top shape. You will come to Mrs. Elliott in the morning and discuss what can be done to improve the condition of the woodwork in the King’s Bedroom.”