In this world, when a master of the house tumbled a maid, it was the maid who was turned out with a stain on her character. Servants were expected to be impeccable, no matter what the goings-on above stairs.
Mr. Davis gave me a look of sympathy, but Mrs. Daley gazed at me in exultation. She’d won. Or so she thought.
“Go ahead and tell the master about the wine, Mr. Davis,” I said, my voice cool. “I doubt it will do any good. Mrs. Bywater will simply find a way to keep her on.”
“That is so,” Mrs. Daley said with confidence.
Mr. Davis’s lip curled. “You are no doubt correct, Mrs. Holloway. But I will be watching you.” He pointed at Mrs. Daley. “You take another sip of the master’s brandy, and I will write to Lord Rankin. He laid down this cellar, and he’ll be less than pleased to learn a trumped-up servant is draining it for him.” He turned his back and strode away.
Mrs. Daley watched him go, and smiled.
“And you will leave Tess out of your machinations,” I said to her. “If you say anything to get her the sack, I will make certain you regret it. Deeply.”
Mrs. Daley trained her too-confident gaze on me. “Why? Is she your daughter too?”
I gave her a disparaging look. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
I followed Mr. Davis’s example and stalked haughtily from the room. Behind me, the parlor door slammed and the lock clicked.
Mr. Davis, who had returned to his pantry across the hall, beckoned me inside and shut the door.
“What are we to do?” he asked in a quiet voice. “We must do something.”
“Leave it to me, Mr. Davis.” I already had a few ideas in my head.
Mr. Davis obviously longed to ask me what, but he refrained. “Why didn’t you tell me about your daughter?” He sounded hurt.
“Fear, Mr. Davis. Pure and simple.”
Mr. Davis sighed. “Ah well, I know about that. Facing down your enemies is usually best. I understand your caution, but be ready for the knowledge to come out. Don’t trust that woman to keep her silence.”
I shivered but nodded. He spoke wisely.
I wondered very much about the skeleton in Mr. Davis’s closet, the one he’d called “that old chestnut,” but now was not the time to ask.
I thanked him, said good night, and left him muttering about the wine cellar.
* * *
• • •
The next afternoon, after luncheon was served and before I had to prepare for tea and the evening meal, Tess and I went with Lady Cynthia to visit Bobby. It was Tess’s day out, so she’d already left the house, and we met at the hansom Lady Cynthia had procured.
Bobby lived in a flat of rooms in Duchess Street, a narrow lane that opened a little past where Regent Street curved around All Souls at Langham Place. The rooms were modern, with polished paneled walls, simple but comfortable furniture, and a glowing stove to keep us warm.
Lady Roberta was delighted at our invasion. She produced a folding table from a back room and Cynthia and I helped her pull various chairs to it.
I had warned Tess to mind her manners, and I wondered if she’d be intimidated by sitting down with Bobby—she was comfortable with Cynthia, but she didn’t know Bobby. Tess, however, looked perfectly at ease as she assisted with the chairs. Bobby might be highborn, but she was eccentric, which I supposed made her easier to take.
Mr. Thanos arrived not long after we did, with Daniel in tow. I saw James nowhere, and I assumed he was working at his odd jobs.
“I invited Sutherland,” Mr. Thanos said after he’d greeted us all. “But he’s lecturing today. It’s a paying crowd at the museum, so he couldn’t bunk out.”
“Does he have anything for us?” Daniel asked.
Daniel held my chair for me, settling me gallantly before he took his seat. Cynthia, in a gentleman’s suit once more, thwarted Mr. Thanos’s attempt to hold her chair by turning said chair around and straddling it. Bobby tipped herself back in another chair and regarded us in enjoyment.
“Nothing more than he’s already told us.” Mr. Thanos gave up trying to assist Cynthia and sat down. “He’s worried about Mr. Li.”
“As am I,” I said. “Daniel, have you heard from him?”
Daniel shook his head. “Not at all. McGregor is not happy with me for having lost track of him. McGregor hasn’t yet accused me of smuggling the man out of the country, but he’s strongly hinted at it.”
“Why should you?” Bobby asked. “Unless you were in cahoots with this Chinaman.”
“Exactly what McGregor thinks,” Daniel answered. “He is always itching to arrest me.”
“Not very gracious of him,” I said. “With all the help you’ve given him.”
“McGregor is not a gracious man.” Daniel smiled his dry smile.
“Quiet now.” Lady Cynthia raised her hands. “Mrs. Holloway brought us here for a reason. She’s found out some things.”
“So have I,” Tess said. “Oh, have I.”
“Mrs. H. first,” Lady Cynthia said. “Then Tess.”
Tess readily fell silent, which made me worry a bit. I launched into my tale of Lady Cynthia’s chat with Lady Harkness and companions, then told of Lady Harkness falling ill, most likely dosed with an emetic by one of the companions, and finally, my conversation with Mr. Pasfield.
When I finished, there was a silence.
“Mrs. Finnegan is a deep one, ain’t she?” Tess said in awe. “If she marries Mr. Pasfield, she’ll be in clover. He has money, I hear—not as much as Sir Jacob, but he’s plenty comfortable.”
“Mr. Pasfield confessed it was his habit to go below stairs to find someone to talk to,” I said. “He said he wasn’t a gentleman and never would be. If he and Mrs. Finnegan make a match, I wish them happy.”
“As long as neither is a murderer,” Mr. Thanos put in. “Mr. Pasfield had the run of the house without anyone questioning it. And Mrs. Finnegan could have let him in the back door on the night of the murder.”
“I have not ruled it out,” I said. “I admit they both had good opportunity. And I suppose their motive would be the same as everyone else’s—to take what was valuable from Sir Jacob’s collection. But Tess is ready to burst. Do tell us what you know, Tess.”
Tess sent us a mysterious look and then plopped her elbows on the table and launched into her tale. “As I told ya, Mrs. H., I have my ways of getting information. One of the footmen fancies me, so he’ll tell me much, but there’s also a constable who walks the beat on Mount Street, and he was patrolling the night of the murder.”
I was impressed she’d made friends with the constable—Tess who feared and loathed the police. “And what do these two resourceful young men have to say?” I asked.
“Well, Caleb, the constable, says that when he was walking his beat, he swears the window at the Harkness house weren’t open at nine o’clock—the one everyone says was open. That window would be hard to climb through, he says, as it’s behind the railings and high off the ground. The burglar would need rope and hooks and such, and there was no sign of that. Caleb didn’t notice it open until half past ten that night, but he never saw anyone coming or going through it.”
“Jove,” Mr. Thanos said, looking excited. “A blind.”
“No, it has curtains,” Tess said, and laughed out loud. “Just teasing ya, Mr. Thanos. Looks like someone opened the window to make us think the killer came in and left that way.”
“Which means he—or she—was admitted to the house through a door, and likely remained after Sir Jacob was killed,” I concluded. I’d always thought the window must have been opened to suggest a burglar, but it was nice to have my theory confirmed.
“And no one ever used the window,” Daniel said, the satisfaction in his eyes matching mine.
“But the drawing room was a wreck,” Cynthia said. “I saw it. Tables overturned,
drapes torn . . .”
“Which could also have been done deliberately,” Mr. Thanos said, his cheeks growing red as Cynthia turned to him.
“Anyone in the house that night could have killed Sir Jacob,” I said, touching my fingers as I listed names. “Lady Harkness, Mrs. Knowles, Mrs. Finnegan—the rest of the servants as well, including Mrs. Redfern and Sheppard. Mr. Chancellor arrived, but claimed he departed once he learned Sir Jacob was abed. Did the servants see him go?”
“No one saw him but Sheppard, so the footman told me,” Tess said. “Caleb watched Mr. Chancellor go in, but never saw him come out. Though Mr. Chancellor could have left when Caleb was around the corner.”
“And what the devil has become of Sheppard?” Cynthia asked.
“A reasonable question,” Daniel said. “Mr. Pasfield might also have been at the house that night, let in by Mrs. Finnegan. He was on the spot quickly in the morning.”
“Very quickly,” Tess agreed. “Within the hour of Sir Jacob being found, according to the footman. But no one saw him arrive.”
“There you are, then,” Cynthia said. “It was Pasfield. Had to be.”
“There’s one other,” I said slowly. “Two, really.”
“Zhen Harkness,” Daniel said, catching my eye.
“And Mr. Li,” I finished. “I do not want it to be him. But he came to see me, was on the street, and I don’t know where he went after he disappeared into the mist toward Berkeley Square. I swore to Inspector McGregor that he never returned to Mount Street, but I can’t know that, can I? If we speculate that the window wasn’t the means of entry, Sheppard or Sir Jacob himself might have let Mr. Li in through the front door after I went back to my kitchen. Mr. Li could have quarreled with Sir Jacob and killed him, opened the window and lay down the furniture to make it look as though a burglary had been committed, then slipped out another way.”
I ceased speaking, sorrow in my heart.
19
Daniel squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. “The same can be said for Zhen, Kat. Sir Jacob would have admitted him—his son—possibly himself, to not draw attention to the lad. Or else Sheppard was sworn to secrecy. Zhen was young and athletic—he could have left by the window even if he didn’t enter by it.”
“Sir Jacob often did answer the door himself,” Tess said, eager to return to her report. “So footman says. Drove Mrs. Redfern spare. Footman says Sir Jacob had several visitors that day, but as Sir Jacob admitted them himself, he doesn’t know who they were.”
“Sheppard would know, presumably,” I said. “A good manservant is a gentleman’s shadow, always on hand to provide coffee or brandy or a hat, anticipating his master’s every need. He’d see who came and went. Probably why he’s missing,” I finished glumly. “Unless he did the deed himself.”
Cynthia broke in. “Hang on, now. You’re saying a chap visited Sir Jacob earlier in the evening, waited around until he went to bed, stabbed him to death, then crawled out a window—or out a door after opening the window to throw the police off the scent—and toddled off home.”
“It’s possible,” Daniel said.
“Or a woman did it.” Tess rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Mrs. Knowles was there. She could have rushed down and opened the window and knocked things about. Caleb, the constable, says he tried to tell the sergeant the window weren’t open at nine or even shortly after, when Sir Jacob was getting himself killed, but the sergeant wouldn’t listen. And Caleb weren’t allowed to speak to Inspector McGregor.”
“Foolish,” I said. “But I cannot be surprised. Those with a small amount of power are inclined to abuse it.”
Mr. Thanos peered about morosely. He’d not put on his spectacles, probably because Cynthia was there, and he rather squinted at us. “So we are back to the fact that anyone connected with Sir Jacob could have done it. Only Mrs. Tatlock was not in residence, correct?” he asked Tess.
“No, she were there,” Tess said with confidence. “She came with Mrs. Knowles. Said she had a headache and could she lie down in a spare bedchamber? Was asleep when all the ruckus happened, and missed it, so she says. She departed quietly later in the night.”
“Oh.” Mr. Thanos looked even more crestfallen. “And I haven’t helped at all with this case. Though I could have a look at Sir Jacob’s pottery with the inscriptions, see if there is anything in that. Mr. Li might have found something worth killing for, even if he didn’t do the killing himself.”
I gazed at my hands resting on the tabletop, work worn, with one finger pink where I’d brushed it against a hot roasting pan a few days ago. Mr. Thanos was close to the mark, but I did not want to mention the stolen tea in front of Bobby.
“I think Zhen was killed because he saw whoever it was come out the window . . . or out of the house by other means,” I said. “I believe he did come from China to find his father, whether to ask for money or help, or just to speak to him, we will never know. I wager it was he Sir Jacob went to Kew Gardens to meet that night, perhaps to keep Zhen from the house—or perhaps Zhen wanted to meet there for some reason. But Zhen followed Sir Jacob home. He arrived between nine and half past ten and saw the killer going in or out. Zhen might have understood what he saw, or he might not have. Either way, he was tracked down and killed.”
“At the Temperate House in Kew Gardens in the middle of the night,” Mr. Thanos said. “Interesting place for a murder.”
“He’d know his way about if he met his father there,” Daniel said. “He and Sir Jacob might have rendezvoused at Kew more than once. The murderer could have lured him there, promising him money for silence, or to try to explain away what Zhen saw.”
Or Zhen could have been searching for Mr. Li’s tea, I mused. If he’d learned of its existence, he’d realize it would be worth a fortune.
“Murdering Zhen at Kew points to the Chancellor fellow,” Cynthia said. “He’d have access to the Temperate House. Not everyone in London has a key.”
“Locks can be picked,” Daniel said. “But yes, Chancellor looks very suspicious. Of course, the murderer might have chosen the place to point to him.”
Bobby, who’d listened in silence, sipping a large glass of port, now said, “What a mess. This Zhen chappie is dead because he saw something. Sheppard is missing, probably for the same reason, as very likely is your Mr. Li. Sounds like the murderer is picking off any witnesses. Lady Harkness will be next, I’ll wager. How can the killer be certain she saw nothing?”
“She takes a tonic,” I said. “Before bed. It’s a sleeping draught. I saw the bottle on the night table, from an apothecary. She’d have been fast asleep, as she claims.”
“Her friends are dosing her,” Tess said abruptly.
We turned to her, Tess waiting for our attention.
“Dosing?” I prompted.
“Giving her something to make her tired and compliant. Like laudanum. Would that be in a sleeping draught?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Chamomile and lavender can soothe one to sleep. But laudanum would make her tired all the time, yes, and eventually some grow to depend on it.”
“There you are, then.” Tess looked pleased. “The footman had it from the upstairs maid that she’s seen Mrs. Tatlock put drops of something in the tonic quite often. The two ladies have been heard talking about it, how they have planned for—oh—two years now to make her leave everything to them in her will.”
Lady Cynthia’s eyes widened. “They talked of this openly? Are they mad?”
“In secret, so they thought. But there’s ways to hear.”
“Jove, I ought to look out what I say in my house,” Cynthia said, half in jest. “But they’d know servants hear everything, wouldn’t they? I can’t imagine them being so careless.”
“Oh, a servant didn’t hear that.” Tess’s grin widened. “I had a secret informant. Name of James McAdam.”
Daniel went v
ery still. “Oh?”
“He were happy to help. He’s been hired on for odd jobs up and down the street, so it were easy to convince the groom or Mrs. Redfern to bring him in from time to time to haul coal or clean out the garden shed or brush the horses. Mrs. Knowles and Mrs. Tatlock liked to have their chats in the garden, and James could be in the shed or on the other side of the wall. Those two planned to take her for everything she had.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened in shock. “They said so? That blatantly?”
“They did. Mrs. Tatlock is always on her ladyship to hand over money for her missionaries, though her ladyship has resisted so far. The charitable cause is her own pocket, I’d say. Mrs. Knowles touches her ladyship for a little bit here, a little bit there, even invented a niece who needs money for looking after. Ain’t no such person.”
“Ah.” Cynthia rested her boot on her chair and hooked her arm around her slim leg. “So I’m right that when I prodded Lady Harkness to sell up and go home, and she made clear she’d take my advice, they did make her sick so she couldn’t.”
“The harpies,” I said angrily. I always believed in speaking respectfully of my betters, but as Tess had pointed out, not everyone above one’s station in life is necessarily better. “I believe I will present all this to Mrs. Redfern, and she can tell Lady Harkness. Perhaps you could be there when she breaks the news, Lady Cynthia, to give it even more credence. Well done, Tess.”
Tess beamed under my praise, eyes sparkling.
“I wondered why I hadn’t seen much of James lately,” Daniel said in a mild tone. “Now I find he’s been snooping about a house in which a murder occurred, where, if Lady Roberta is correct, the witnesses are being killed or put out of the way.”
“James weren’t there when the murder happened,” Tess said quickly. “I didn’t ask him until days after. And it’s no different from what you do.”
“I am aware of that.” Daniel’s voice was dry. “But I believe I’ll have a chat with James. Please, tell him not to go back to the house for a bit.”
Death in Kew Gardens Page 20
