Rose sighed and quickened her pace. It did not do to dwell on the matter any further. She must focus on what was important. Without a doubt, that was to commence her own investigation before the way forward was barred to her and she was all but turned out on her ear. She was a woman of considerable substance but with little hope of obtaining the cooperation of the servants in the event her identity became common knowledge. They would consider themselves to be of a different class. On the surface they might treat her with deference, while underneath they would simmer with resentment and anger, quite rightly considering themselves having been cruelly tricked and deceived.
The constable stood in front of the closed door to the servants’ hall, looking bored and preoccupied with his own thoughts. His presence brought Rose up sharp so that she found herself lingering idly in the passage unsure whether or not to continue on her journey. However, the matter was resolved for her before she was forced to make a decision, for the door suddenly opened from the inside bringing both herself and the young constable to attention. Quickly she retreated to stand further down the passage, where she was partially hidden in the shadows, a nondescript servant who would incur little interest.
‘I suppose we should speak to the girl who found her,’ Inspector Connor was saying to his sergeant as he emerged into the passage.
Sergeant Perkins, Rose noticed, was following a little behind in their wake, much as if he were their collective shadow. She was inclined to try and get his attention, but thought better of it.
‘Poor little mite, frightened half to death, she is,’ muttered Sergeant Harris. ‘Scarce more than a child. Reminds me of the wife’s niece.’
‘Awful thing to happen to the girl,’ agreed the inspector, with sympathy. ‘But we’ll have to talk to her sooner or later all the same. Though perhaps we’ll give her a little longer to compose herself.’
‘I wouldn’t mind speaking to the butler first,’ said Sergeant Harris. ‘Get the lie of the land and all that. He seems a sensible sort of a fellow from what little I have seen of him, honest too.’
‘Not forgetting Mrs Grayson-Smith,’ said Inspector Connor. ‘We’d better see her for form’s sake as soon as we’ve interviewed the butler. Not that I expect she can tell us much. Still, I expect she was one of the last to see the deceased alive. She’ll be able to tell us what time she dismissed the woman for the night, if nothing else.’
Rose, lurking in the passage, could not believe her luck. She waited until the policemen had disappeared up the staircase before she made her way to the scullery. Pearl was not there. Neither was she in the kitchen where the cook huffed and puffed over the stove.
‘Where’s Pearl?’ Rose whispered urgently to Edna.
It appeared that she had not spoken quietly enough, or perhaps the cook possessed particularly good hearing, for it was that woman who answered. She had turned away from the stove and was standing heavy and squat, facing Rose. She wiped her hands on her apron in a brisk fashion before resting them on her hips so that she resembled something of a teapot with two handles.
‘I’ve sent her to her room, not that it’s any business of yours, I might add. Agnes is with her now. The poor girl couldn’t be left alone, could she? Not after what she’s been through. And I couldn’t spare Edna here, much as I’d have liked to. As I said to Mrs Field, when she was all for making a fuss, there’s still meals to be made whether or not anyone feels like eating. And likely as not them upstairs won’t notice if a room’s not been swept, or a desk polished. But they’ll need food to keep up their strength at a time like this, even the mistress, who eats scarce more than a bird at the best of times. It’s a pity the master isn’t here. He has a healthy appetite, he has, and he’s always encouraging the mistress to eat a little more.’
Having had her say, the cook returned her attention to the stove and barked one or two orders to Edna, who threw Rose a furtive glance. An apology of sorts was written in the expression on her face. Rose, feeling herself to have been suitably dismissed by the cook, turned tail and returned to the staircase, where she made her way slowly up the endless stairs to the attics above. It was something of an unseen blow that Edna had remained in the kitchen while Agnes had been sent in her stead to nursemaid Pearl. She wondered how the two girls would take her sudden and rather unexpected appearance in the little attic room. Her presence was unlikely to be welcomed and certainly would be considered a little strange, particularly as she was only a visiting servant. That she would be intruding on some private grief, she felt sure, and it left rather a nasty taste in her mouth. But it could not be helped, she told herself. The best thing that she could do for them all was to find out who had killed Velda Cooper. Until they knew that, the servants’ hall would forever be in the possession of a troubled soul, and behind the twists and turns of the darkened staircases, enclosed and shut off from the passages as they were, a threatening menace might lurk still in the shadows ready to strike. Fear would linger in the air, much like stale tobacco, until it seeped its way into the very wood itself so that it became as much a part of the fixtures and fittings as the battered stairs and the cracked and broken linoleum.
Chapter Twenty-one
Rose had not been precisely sure which was Pearl and Edna’s room. She had envisaged being obliged to look in at the open door of each room that she passed, or to open the doors that were closed until she found the right one. In practice, however, this proved unnecessary, for she heard the soft murmur of voices as soon as she had reached the attics and had proceeded down the passage.
Each sound that her feet made on the bare wooden floor seemed to echo and vibrate about the place in an alarming fashion. There was an eerie silence about the rooms as she passed them. Due to the sparseness of furniture and lack of decoration they appeared unoccupied and abandoned; only one or two had personal touches which made them appear a little lived in. Pearl and Edna’s room, she discovered, was one of the latter, for rudimentary attempts had been made to make the room appear homely. In dimensions it was only a little larger than the one which had been allocated to Rose, and shared the same dull sage green painted walls. However, the drab colour had been relieved somewhat by the addition of one or two illustrations torn from the pages of magazines, which had been affixed to the walls by the means of soap. A small bunch of flowers, now rather wilted, resided in a crude earthenware vase on the top of the chest-of-drawers and a bright crocheted blanket was folded neatly at the end of one of the small, single beds, which added a splash of much needed colour.
On the other bed a quilt of the patchwork variety was draped around the shoulders of a girl she took to be Pearl. The girl herself sat crouched on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, and her arms hugging them to her for all she was worth. Beside her, in the only chair that the room possessed, sat Agnes, looking on in a disconcerted fashion, a cup of warm milk clutched in her hands. It was apparent from her actions that Agnes was trying to persuade Pearl to drink the milk and equally obvious that the girl was oblivious to her efforts, despite Agnes’s soft words of encouragement.
Rose hovered awkwardly in the corridor, a few feet from the open door. She felt she was intruding, trespassing on a scene that was not meant for her eyes. The two girls had been too preoccupied to be aware of her approach, so now she looked on helplessly, unsure how to proceed. She wondered whether she should cough or clear her throat, or give any other unobtrusive sign that would announce her presence. But, as it happened, she was obliged to do neither. Perhaps Rose cast a shadow on the wall, or perhaps Agnes heard her breathing, for suddenly, as if on a whim, she looked around, her face showing signs of panic.
Agnes leapt to her feet, almost spilling the cup of milk in her haste. Even little Pearl was persuaded to look up from her pursuit of staring at her bed, her arms still clasped about her knees.
‘Miss Denning,’ began Agnes, ‘I … oh, you did frighten me –’
‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ Rose said quickly. ‘Please, do sit down. C
ook told me you were here. I thought I might be of some help. I have a little experience in this sort of thing. Dealing with shock, I mean. And Lady Lavinia doesn’t require me at present. So you see, I’m rather at a loose end …’
‘Very kind of you, I’m sure,’ muttered Agnes, though her voice sounded anything but grateful and she glanced nervously back at Pearl as if she feared that the girl might make some sort of protest. Certainly Pearl, her eyes large and puffy from crying, looked a little scared. She bit her lip anxiously.
‘Here, you’d better have my seat,’ said Agnes, looking at Rose with barely concealed hostility, and beckoning rather reluctantly to her recently vacated chair.
‘Not at all,’ said Rose, ‘you have it. I’ll perch myself here on the end of the bed.’
She edged herself down on to the little wrought iron bed, slightly nervous lest Pearl should recoil from her, viewing the move as an imposition. When she looked up, however, much to her surprise, she found that Pearl was looking at her keenly, all traces of fear having disappeared from her face. Instead the girl appeared to be eyeing her curiously. Agnes, it seemed, still harboured some reservations. Gone was the careless chatter associated with their first meeting, when the girl had only to concern herself with showing Rose to her room and changing her uniform from the blue cotton twill dress of the housemaid to the black alpaca dress of the parlour maid. In its place was a quiet, sullen girl, who gave her the odd suspicious stare.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ said Pearl, smiling shyly. ‘Edna said you were ever so nice.’
Agnes looked from one to the other of them, shrugged her shoulders and got up from the chair.
‘Will you be all right if I go to the lavatory? Pearl doesn’t want to be left alone, but seeing as you’re here and she’s happy to see you …’ Agnes allowed her words to drift off, her eyes still showing some signs of wariness.
‘We’ll be quite all right, won’t we Pearl?’ said Rose firmly, taking Agnes’s seat before the girl had a chance to change her mind. Inwardly she cheered; she could not believe her luck. ‘I’m only glad to be of assistance, do my bit and all that.’
Pearl waited for Agnes to disappear down the corridor before she leaned forward and spoke to Rose in a confiding manner.
‘Gone to the lavatory, my eye! She’s sneaked out to have a fag. I just hope Mrs Field don’t catch her. She’s ever so old-fashioned about women smoking. Don’t hold with it, she don’t.’
Rose ardently hoped that Pearl was correct. If Agnes had crept out into the kitchen courtyard to smoke an illicit cigarette, then she might be afforded a little more time to question Pearl in private than she had initially thought. Certainly every additional second counted; she would do well to make best use of her time.
It was while she was trying to make up her mind how best to proceed without Pearl becoming suspicious as to her uncommon interest in the murder, that the girl in question cut through her thoughts with something of an exploding rocket.
‘I’m ever so glad to see you,’ she said. ‘Edna’s told me all about you, you being an amateur sleuth, I mean.’
Rose looked up appalled. For a moment she was lost for words. It had not occurred to her that Edna would not keep her word. That the girl had revealed her true identity so casually and quickly was a cause for concern. Rose wondered who else she had told.
‘Oh, you needn’t worry,’ said Pearl, as if she could read the other’s thoughts. ‘She’s only told me, no one else, and I won’t say nothing to no one. And she only told me this morning, in case you’re wondering, after I’d found the … Miss Cooper. She wouldn’t have said nothing otherwise. Only, she could see how scared and upset I was, and she said as how she knew someone who could help.’
‘I see,’ said Rose. While it would certainly make questioning Pearl a great deal easier, it was worrying to know that the number of people aware of her real purpose for being at Crossing Manor was steadily increasing. It was surely only a matter of time before the murderer got wind of the truth. ‘Look here, Pearl,’ she said urgently, gripping the girl by the arm in such a manner as to make her wince, ‘it’s very important that you don’t tell anyone else why I’m here.’ She took a deep breath before continuing, to emphasise the point. ‘It could put my life in danger. Do you understand?’
Pearl stared at her with eyes like saucers. Rose felt the girl’s arm tremble beneath her fingers and immediately she felt guilty.
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ Pearl whispered. ‘Strike me down if I do.’
‘Good,’ said Rose, releasing her hold on Pearl’s arm. ‘Now, I should like you to tell me everything. About finding the body, I mean.’
Pearl obligingly proceeded to give an account of the discovery. She was not one for embellishing her narratives, adhering to the facts as far as was possible, though she perhaps gave slightly more emphasis to her feelings of foreboding than she had experienced at the time. Certainly she gave voice to her fears of the shadows and her impression of the presence of ghosts of long dead servants who prevailed over the passages and kitchen in the early hours, when the rest of the house was still.
‘At first I thought she was just asleep. Miss Cooper, I mean.’
‘Oh?’
‘Of course, miss,’ said Pearl, ‘I didn’t know it was her at first.’ She paused a moment, as if conjuring up again the awful image before her. ‘You see I could only see the back of her head.’
‘So it could have been anyone?’
‘I suppose it could have been. Though I realised it was her as soon as I went up to the body. The black hair, it was ever so thick, good hair. But … oh, it was awful,’ Pearl covered her face with her hand. ‘I could tell it was smeared with something, something that was sticky. I don’t know why I did it, but I put out my hand to touch it, the sticky patch, that is. I knew she was dead and I still did it, stretched out my hand and touched the … the blood.’ She held out the offending hand in front of her, almost as if she thought it had a will of its own and might still be stained red.
‘What did you do then?’
‘She came and got me,’ said Edna who, unobserved by either of them, had appeared at the door. Rose resolved to listen out more carefully for Agnes’s return. ‘Mrs Field is giving Agnes ever such a talking to,’ continued the kitchen maid. ‘She caught her smoking in the yard. She was crouched behind one of the bedsheets. Mrs Field says it will have to be washed again ’cause it smells of smoke.’
‘What nonsense. The fresh air will get rid of that,’ said Pearl, making a face. Her posture had relaxed, however, and a smile had lit up her face. The effect was to make her pretty in a waif-like fashion. It was abundantly clear to Rose that Pearl was keen to return her thoughts to the more innocuous and routine matters of the house.
‘Anyway, I thought I’d take my chance and see how you were doing. Cook got caught up in the argument, you see. She as good as told Mrs Field to leave Agnes alone and let her smoke, so she won’t miss me for a while.’
‘I know this is hard, Pearl,’ said Rose, keen to return the girl’s thoughts to the murder and to continue with her interview. ‘But you’re doing ever so well. Tell me, you didn’t stop to look at the body or search for the weapon?’
‘No. I just ran up here as fast as I could and woke Edna.’ She gave a small, frightened smile. ‘I’m surprised that I didn’t wake the whole house, I made that much noise.’
‘She could hardly speak, poor thing,’ said the kitchen maid, sitting down beside her friend and putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Shaking and crying, she was. It took an age to find out what was wrong, and then I thought she’d only had a bad dream.’
‘Yes, you told me this morning,’ said Rose rather brusquely, keen to progress the interview lest the admonished housemaid return. ‘Edna, you went down and viewed the body, didn’t you? Before you went and got Mrs Field, that is? Is there anything you didn’t tell me about this morning? Anything additional that you can remember, no matter how small? It may be important, you se
e.’
‘No … I don’t think so. Oh, miss, I can’t quite remember what I told you.’ Edna put a hand to her head and screwed up her eyes in concentration. ‘I was in such a state, so I was. I could hardly think straight. I really thought Pearl had had a bad dream, I did really. She has them every so often, you see. I never thought there had been a murder and in the servants’ hall of all places. It was ever such a shock seeing the body there. It gave me an awful fright, it did.’
‘If you can remember anything –’
‘I don’t know … oh, wait, I think I can.’ Edna’s eyes became large and expressive, her mouth forming the shape of an orange. Her brow was no longer furrowed and a light had lit up her eyes so that her whole being appeared animated. ‘There is something. I didn’t tell you about what was used to kill her, did I, miss?’
‘Ah!’ exclaimed Pearl, who looked on the verge of fresh tears. Certainly she shivered and her bottom lip trembled. With half fumbling fingers she pulled the quilt tighter around herself.
‘Sorry, Pearl, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said Edna, touching the girl’s arm affectionately, ‘but that’s the sort of thing you want to know, isn’t it, miss?’
Murder in the Servants' Hall Page 19