by R. J. Koreto
Frances blinked. She realized she had slipped away for a moment, completely lost in her thoughts. A murdered private. An obsessively loyal servant. A visitor the housekeeper didn’t want anyone to know about.
“My deepest apologies, Dr. Mallory. You have been extremely helpful, more than I can ever tell you. Now I must send you back to your wife; I’ve kept you late enough. I’ll have Tredwell drive you home.” And she bid good-bye to a thoroughly bemused Dr. Mallory.
Oh dear, she thought. They’ll be gossiping about me all winter.
Mrs. Scotley put Gladys to work wrapping up some fine ceramics for storage, with severe warnings about being careful.
“I can help,” said Mallow. “I finished with the linens, and from my days as a housemaid to the Marchioness of Seaforth, I learned how to care for fine objects.”
“Well then, Miss Mallow, that would be a great help. Gladys, follow Miss Mallow’s lead in this.”
“Yes, Mrs. Scotley.”
And soon the two young women were busy. Mallow saw the inquisitive look in Gladys’s eye, and it didn’t take long for her to start asking questions.
“It must be very exciting, working in a great house,” she said.
“Oh, yes. It was very strict, of course. We had to do everything just so. But it was exciting when the King came to dine.”
“The King came?” Gladys almost dropped a vase in her astonishment. “Did you serve him at dinner?”
“A maid serving the King? Of course not,” she said with a complete air of superiority. “Only footmen served at formal dinners. But I helped collect the ladies’ cloaks. And I was as close to the King as I am to you now. And the Bishop of London and the prime minister also visited.”
“I would give anything to work in a house like that, Miss Mallow. Nothing ever happened here. No one ever visited. And now, I’m out of a job,” she said with a frown.
Mallow remembered how Gladys had started to gossip when they first arrived, only to have Mrs. Scotley silence her. Lady Frances would want to know what happened—who had come.
“Didn’t you say earlier that someone had come? When we first arrived?”
“Mrs. Scotley said we’re not to gossip,” Gladys said. “And I need her to give me a good reference.”
“If it’s gossip about your late master, you can say it now. You’re allowed to talk about the departed,” said Mallow.
“Really?” said Gladys. She wrinkled her nose as she contemplated an apparent loophole she had never heard of. But Miss Mallow was a lady’s maid from an aristocratic household, no less. She should know.
“If it turns out to be unimportant, my lady will forget it and tell no one. But it may be something important about the Audendale family, and in that case, she needs to know. She’s a great lady and knows about things.” She tossed her head. “And Mrs. Scotley may be cook and housekeeper, but she’s just a servant, too.”
Mallow heard the cart outside. Tredwell was bringing the doctor home, and that meant her ladyship was available to hear the story.
“As my mother used to say,” said Mallow, “tell the truth and shame the devil.” And taking the reluctant housemaid by the hand, she led her to the general’s suite.
Frances was still thinking furiously about the doctor’s revelations when Mallow entered with a nervous-looking Gladys.
“My lady, Gladys has realized she has something to tell you.” And she gave the housemaid a look that was half encouraging, half commanding.
The girl looked so miserable, standing there, Frances felt her heart go out to her. She had been given strict instructions by Mrs. Scotley and now was supposed to disobey them on the words of a titled lady she hardly knew.
“Gladys, you were quite right to listen to Mrs. Scotley. She represented the will of your master. But now, he has gone. And until other arrangements are made, I am the mistress of Egdon Hall. You may tell me anything without any fear of doing wrong.”
Gladys relaxed a little. “Well, putting it like that, my lady, I do have something to tell you.”
“Good. Now both of you take a seat, and I’ll hear your story.”
Gladys sat on the edge of one of the chairs and started to talk. “We had a visitor, a soldier, my lady. At least that’s what he said. But we’ve had soldiers here, and he didn’t look like one.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“Yes, my lady. We have few enough visitors here. Mountjoy. Colonel Mountjoy.”
Frances felt herself tense up but tried to act casually so as not to upset Gladys. “Do you know if he was a friend of your master’s?”
“I don’t know, my lady. The general was a friendly man, but with Colonel Mountjoy, he was just reserved, like one gentleman meeting another. But not angry. Mrs. Scotley brought them some tea, but that’s all I know about the meeting.”
“Did you see Colonel Mountjoy leave?”
“Oh, yes, my lady. The general came down to say good-bye and seemed cheerful. We liked the master and were glad when he had a visitor. That seemed to perk him up.”
There was a hesitancy there. That wasn’t the whole story.
“What happened then, Gladys? It’s all right. You can tell me.”
“You see, my lady, the kitchen is sort of under the front of the house. We were baking a lot that day, and it was very hot, so I stood on a chair and opened the little windows. They’re at ground level, my lady; you can hardly see them if you’re outside.”
Ah. The girl had been eavesdropping on what went on at the front of the house. There were worse sins.
“Of course you did. That was very sensible. And it wasn’t your fault if you heard anything outside. It wasn’t like you were listening on purpose.”
Gladys looked relieved she wouldn’t be criticized and then began haltingly. Frances was so frustrated at the hemming and hawing that she wanted to shake the girl. Gradually, it came out. “Mr. Tredwell had seen the master back up to his room, then came down to drive Colonel Mountjoy to the station. And then the two men had words, my lady. It started soft and then it seemed as if Mr. Tredwell was asking the colonel something and didn’t like the answer. They got louder, and Tredwell kept using words like ‘honor’ and ‘duty,’ and the colonel said ‘government’ and ‘responsibility.’” Frances sensed there was a lot the girl didn’t understand. “Oh, and they said something about soldiers—what was it? Yes, the Empire Light Horse. And a man named Major Colcombe. I remember that name special, my lady, because it was just a month later that the general went to his funeral in London, and he rarely left his house.”
That was all she could drag out of Gladys, but it was enough.
“Very angry they were at the end. The colonel cursed Mr. Tredwell for his impertinence, and that stopped him. It was so odd; Mr. Tredwell was usually so well spoken. Anyway, they drove off, and Mrs. Scotley told me it would be very embarrassing for Mr. Tredwell if their argument came out—embarrassing for the general, too.”
Frances couldn’t blame Mrs. Scotley. An old and experienced servant, she wouldn’t want the hint of a scandal to mar the family name, and if it got out that Tredwell had argued with a guest . . .
“Thank you, Gladys. We can do what Mrs. Scotley suggested and forget the whole episode now. I shan’t discuss it with anyone else, and I see no need to tell Mrs. Scotley that you and I discussed it. Now, I imagine you’ll be out of work shortly. Would you be willing to move to London?”
“Oh, yes, my lady. I’ll stay with my married sister for now, but I would like to work in a great house. Mr. Tredwell, Mrs. Scotley, and the groundskeeper all received nice remembrances from the general and will retire, but I’m young, and I’ll still need to work.”
“I have many relations, and there’s always someone looking for a housemaid. Leave me your sister’s address, and I’ll write you. Thank you for telling me the story.”
“And thank you, my lady,” said a once-again cheerful Gladys, who left to see what other tasks Mrs. Scotley had for her.
“Ni
cely done, Mallow.” It was the last item. Frances could see the whole horrific episode now, with both noble and base motives leading to the same awful place.
“My lady?” asked Mallow, looking concerned.
As with the doctor, Frances had let her mind wander again. “I’m sorry Mallow—I’m being terribly rude today. First to Dr. Mallory and now to you. We’re almost done, you and I. Indeed, I was proved right: we have two criminals and two crimes, one of theft and one of murder. And we’re about to solve both of them.”
She thought of the so-helpful Secret Service colonel, who seemed to know everyone and everything. Everyone wanted something from Lady Frances—but him. He just wanted her to stop investigating, trying to keep her away from the police. But he had overplayed his hand, treating her as a silly girl. She had never liked the colonel, and now she knew why.
He wasn’t a murderer, she concluded. That was another story. But he had a lot to answer for nonetheless.
Frances was lost in thought, but when she looked up, Mallow took heart again. This was the lady she knew, with a glint in those gray eyes, her chin up, and a set mouth.
“Enough of this, Mallow. We have work to do. We’ll have dinner soon, bundle up the general’s papers for the solicitors tomorrow, and catch the last train back home.” Frances looked around the suite. “This is a sad house, Mallow. It’s been sad for a while, I think. There’s no more we can do here. But for General Audendale, for Major Colcombe, for Private Barnstable, there is plenty to do in London.”
CHAPTER 17
By afternoon the next day, Frances had bundled up all the documents for the solicitors, who sent a carriage to pick them up. She saw that Mrs. Scotley had everything else well in hand and promised Gladys again she’d find her a place.
Frances asked Mrs. Scotley to find Tredwell and have him drive them to the station, but the housekeeper sighed. “His leg took up with him badly again, my lady. It comes and goes, more and more as he gets on in years. I took the liberty of telling him to lie down in his cottage and arranged for young Ben Hazzlit, from the next farm over, to drive you. He’s waiting now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Scotley, for everything.”
“A pleasant journey to you, my lady, and you as well, Miss Mallow.”
Mr. Hazzlit was clearly tickled at transporting a titled lady and her maid and had given his wagon a good cleaning. He helped them on and off with all the flourish of a Renaissance courtier, which impressed Mallow and amused Frances. They were on the train, even as the sun set.
The dining car served a very nice late supper. Her ladyship ordered wine for both of them. Mallow had firm ideas on the evil of drink, but when people like her ladyship and her family ordered wine—nothing vulgar like gin—it was perfectly respectable with a meal. And Mallow sipped it slowly.
“When we departed London, you left word at Miss Plimsoll’s that we would be going to Egdon Hall at Grenville?”
“Yes, my lady, as you told me to.”
Very good. The colonel might find this out. And panic.
It was late when they arrived, and Frances longed for her own bed, but she stopped at the small piecrust desk at Miss Plimsoll’s. Two letters awaited her. One was from Hal—she would open it upstairs. The other was in the sharp, strong letters of a decisive man.
Dear Lady Frances,
I do not wish to sound melodramatic, but you are in great danger. I am investigating here, but I strongly suggest you leave London for your own safety.
Your servant,
Zachery Mountjoy
Well, men in general and military men in particular did so enjoy protecting women. But she had just come back to London and had no intention of leaving for a while.
Frances smiled wryly. “Sometimes, Mallow, people aren’t who you think they are.”
Mallow often became confused when her ladyship started talking like that. Was she referring to the old general? A great and good man, his servants seemed to think, but as her ladyship said, you never could tell.
“Yes, my lady,” said Mallow.
Once upstairs, they quickly got ready for bed, and when she was finally under the covers, Frances opened Hal’s letter.
After such an emotion-filled couple of days, it was absolutely delicious to read a love letter in bed.
Right after breakfast the next morning, she called Hal’s office. The deferential clerk told her Mr. Wheaton was in conference with a client, but he took the message that Lady Frances Ffolkes was back in London and would call Mr. Wheaton later. “And please tell Mr. Wheaton it was a very profitable trip.”
After the phone call, Frances went back up to her room. Mallow had finished her breakfast and was quietly catching up on her sewing. She sat at her desk and toyed with her pen. She knew now. She knew everything, or close to it. But the next step seemed beyond her abilities. Frances smiled at the thought of Mrs. Elkhorn throwing up her arms and saying, “Lady Frances can’t figure something out? To think that I was present for such a historic moment!” She thought and jotted down some notes, then thought some more.
Deciding to take another tack, she turned to her maid. “Mallow, how was Tredwell below stairs? Was he upset, worried? Did he talk about leaving the household? He was ill when we departed, if you remember.”
Mallow pursed her lips. “I must say, my lady, that he could be a little sullen and was most impertinent when I sent him to fetch the doctor. He questioned your orders. I couldn’t believe my ears. I can’t imagine what your late mother would’ve done with such an impertinent servant.”
“Impertinence was the least of his sins,” said Frances with a look of deep sadness. “I’m sorry to say, but it seems our Sergeant Tredwell was also a murderer.”
“My lady . . . I don’t know what to say,” said Mallow.
“Neither do I. I have some notes to make and letters to write. And then you and I will talk further.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Mallow busied herself with domestic duties while Frances wrote away at her desk. A solid plan in motion, Frances wrote a detailed note on her good stationery, emblazoned with the Seaforth coat of arms. It always commanded attention. She addressed it to Inspector Benjamin Eastley, Special Branch, Metropolitan Police Service, and then after a moment’s thought, wrote “personal and confidential” on it. She sealed the envelope and headed to the dining room, where the staff was already setting for lunch. She caught the eye of one of the waiters, who supplemented his income as a discreet and reliable messenger. Frances put the letter and some coins into his hand.
“Could you deliver this after you go off duty?” she asked.
He looked at the address and his eyes flickered, but that’s all the surprise he showed.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady.”
Back upstairs, she put her plan in motion. “Mallow, you know how the shop girls talk in the really fine stores. We’ve been to such stores dozens of times. Do you think you could imitate one of those girls on the telephone? That is, pretend?”
“I . . . I suppose so my lady.” What was this about? Even for Lady Frances, this was unusual.
“Good girl! I knew I could count on you. Now, I’d do this myself, but my accent is wrong. I need to find out when a servant is going to be absent. So here’s what you’ll have to say . . .”
A few minutes later, Frances and Mallow were downstairs in the phone room, dialing. Frances handed the speaker to Mallow.
“Is this the valet of Colonel Mountjoy? I would like to speak to your master about an important delivery of goods he has purchased,” said Mallow. She had it down perfect, the superior tone those shop girls used when speaking to servants.
Frances leaned in so she could hear the response too.
“I am the colonel’s valet. The master is not home. I can receive any deliveries. May I inquire where you’re calling from?”
Frances had not anticipated that, but Mallow was surprisingly equal to it.
“You may not,” she said. “I just need to know whe
n you or your master will be available to receive the package during the day.”
“I am home during the day, except for brief periods to run errands for the master,” said the manservant a little stiffly. “And I have a half day off, which is tomorrow, so tomorrow afternoon will not be convenient.”
“Very good. We will give you some notice,” said Mallow, and she rang off.
“Oh, Mallow, that was perfect. Very nice. However, we have to work fast. If tomorrow is his half day, we must proceed now. Back upstairs to pick a dress.”
Frances had hoped to have a couple of days to plan, but perhaps it was better like this. If she gave it too much thought, her nerve might break.
“We’ll be making a call tomorrow. Take out the dress I wore for the Moores’ party again. No, even better, the deep-green one.”
Mallow blinked. Her ladyship never cared about dress before. And now, she was making a choice that was . . . inappropriate. “For a daytime call, my lady? If I may say, it’s rather ornate. It’s more suited to a formal dinner engagement.”
“Exactly, Mallow. I want to be a little bit . . . overdressed tomorrow. See that it is looking its best. Also, check on the back stairs, where old delivery boxes are stored until they’re hauled away. Grab at least three. We’ll want to tie them up as if they were new. That should take care of everything. I have a luncheon meeting today and then another committee before dinner. Then an early night for both of us. Tomorrow is going to be very busy.”
“Very good, my lady.”
When Lady Frances actually said it was going to be a busy day, it was going to be a very busy day indeed.
Frances walked to her various appointments during the day to make sure she was tired enough to sleep during the night. But she was still troubled by dreams, flickers of faces that kept visiting her: Tredwell, the colonel, Hal, and Danny.
She woke up suddenly and looked at her clock. It was early, but that was good. She’d want Mallow to make her look her absolute best today.
Mystified but pleased that her ladyship was for once giving her time to really do her up right without a fuss, Mallow went to work on Frances’s hair.