“Has anyone spoken to Lord Flyte? Or is he too grand to be capable of doing something wrong?” She was crying now. “Lily is the best girl I’ve ever known, and she wouldn’t harm a hair on anyone’s head. Can you say the same about Lord Flyte?”
“This has nothing to do with Lord Flyte, Alice. This has to do with the murder,” Mr. Davis said, handing her his handkerchief. “Dry your eyes. Do you have work to do?”
She nodded and sniffed.
“Best return to it. I shall take care of things here.”
“She didn’t do it, Mr. Davis,” Alice said. “You can’t believe Pru.”
“You’ve nothing to worry about on that count, Alice,” he said. “We all know that we must take Prudence’s word with a very serious pinch of salt. But this—Lily running off—is very grave indeed.”
“It had to be due to something that happened with Lord Flyte. I’m sure of it, Mr. Davis.”
“I shall speak to Lady Emily about it. You, child, get back to work.”
She held his handkerchief out to give back to him.
“Keep it,” he said. “This is bound to be a most trying evening.”
20
Once we knew Lily had vanished, Anglemore descended into a state of near-chaos. Rodney shocked me by asking if I would promise to go to Matilda as soon as reasonably possible and keep her abreast of any updates so he could accompany Colin and Simon when they gathered up a search party of men from the estate and set off to find Lily. They delegated the estate men to comb the grounds while they themselves raced along the roads, stopping every coach and carriage they found. She could not have got far in this short time, so we were all hopeful that she could be located. I spoke to each of the servants again but learned very little. Simon had brought Lily in through the front door, so none of them had seen her return. Only Alice had made a plea on her friend’s behalf. She was convinced, utterly and completely, that Lily would not have fled if something terrible hadn’t happened between her and Simon that afternoon.
“I saw them coming back, Alice,” I said. “Lily was the picture of radiant happiness.”
“When she was passing your window, yes,” Alice said, “but she may not have known everything then. What if Lord Flyte threw her over just before they came back into the house?”
“I would think Lily possesses a strong enough constitution to stand up to being thrown over.”
“Not if he’d compromised her, Lady Emily.”
I could see Alice had been crying, and my heart went out to her. “Lord Flyte assures me nothing of the sort went on between them, and I believe him.”
“You people always stick together.”
Her words stunned me, and I could see they stunned her, too.
“Madam, I’m so sorry,” she said, starting to cry again. “I should have never said that.”
“It’s all right, Alice. We are all under a considerable amount of stress. Now go see if Mrs. Elliott needs you for anything. I promise I shall inform you the moment Mr. Hargreaves finds Lily.”
I felt at loose ends, discontent to be left useless, waiting for news, and was glad I had promised Rodney I would go to Matilda. I called for the carriage and arrived on her doorstep a short while later.
“You’re calling at a rather inconvenient time, aren’t you?” Matilda asked. Her voice was stern, but her face was not. “I’m only teasing. Has something happened?”
“Yes, and Rodney insisted I come to you at once so you would know. He was rather concerned about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “He is concerned I won’t leave him alone once he takes possession of Montagu.” There wasn’t much sincerity in her barb, and I was beginning to suspect her feelings for Rodney were more complicated than she let on. “Now tell me what brings you to me.”
I explained to her all that had happened with Prudence and Johnny and Lily.
“Do you really think she killed Archie?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” I said, “until she ran off.”
“It does seem to be a sign of a guilty conscience,” Matilda said, “and now that I mention it, I must admit that I have one, too.”
“How so?” I asked.
“I did speak to Miss Fitzgerald when she was leaving Montagu the night Archie died. I don’t know what on earth possessed me to lie about it.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing of consequence. She seemed tense and didn’t have much to say.”
“Why did she lie about not having seen you that night?”
“That’s why I paid her, Emily. I was afraid you would suspect we were up to something nefarious.”
“So you bribed her?”
“I’m not proud of it, but I have been brought up to believe I can buy my way out of most trouble.”
“Matilda, this is a disaster! Do you see how guilty this makes both of you look?”
“Of course I do. Once again, I panicked. You were asking so many questions and seemed to suspect me of something or other. I wasn’t sure why Miss Fitzgerald was on my grounds that night. I hadn’t invited her. She looked a shambles, all discombobulated and her eyes swollen—when I thought back on it, I wondered if she had something to do with what happened to Archie. If she did, I worried what might happen to me if it got out I had spoken to her that night.”
“Why did you tell no one you suspected her?”
“‘Suspected’ is an awfully strong word, Emily,” she said. “I wondered what she had been doing, but had no information to justify reporting. Who would believe I had nothing to do with it if I was talking to her—a possible suspect—so soon after the evil deed?”
“This was all very badly done, Matilda.”
“I am well aware of it, but I’ve very little experience when it comes to dealing with murder and trying to preserve one’s reputation. Miss Fitzgerald was somewhat shocked by the money and agreed to take it only with the understanding that it would be used for charity work. It has proven to be money very badly spent, as it doesn’t matter anymore, now that we know who killed Archie. Where do you think Lily went?”
“The men have fanned out, covering as much ground as they can,” I said. “We have also contacted the railway station. As yet, she has not bought a train ticket, but there is still time for her to get on the last train to London.”
“Was she on foot?”
“Yes, but I can’t imagine she’ll continue that way for long. I wonder—could we check to make sure nothing’s missing from your stables?”
“An excellent idea.”
We raced outside and questioned one of the grooms. Nothing was out of place. “Let’s think this through carefully,” I said. “If she is on foot, she can’t have made it very far. It’s miles to the railway station in Melton Carbury from Anglemore and farther still in the other direction to the next village. She could not have reached any of those places on foot in so short a time, and she would know it to be impossible. She could be hiding somewhere nearby, biding her time.”
“Which makes it more likely the men will find her.”
“Unless she has managed to persuade someone passing to give her a lift.” I frowned. “Her family are in Wales. I have already wired them and asked that they contact us at once if they hear from her. What would you do if you were in her situation?”
“I would never be in her situation,” Matilda said.
“That’s hardly helpful.”
“You can’t expect me to know what it would be like to be a maid.”
“Alice is her closest friend, and I do believe she has no idea where Lily’s gone. Lily must feel so alone, and after such a heady day, when it seemed as if everything was right with the world.”
“So you don’t believe she tore up the book?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “Do you have paper? I need to organize my thoughts.” Matilda motioned towards a writing table. I sat down and took out two pieces of paper, labeling one HATES SIMON and the other LOVES SIMON.
“That’
s a bit coarse, don’t you think?” Matilda asked.
“Undoubtedly,” I said, “but I do not want to waste time coming up with something cleverer. Now, if Lily did destroy the book, she may bear a serious grudge against those whose positions in society are above hers. She may have flirted with Archibald, led him to the ruined abbey, and murdered him.”
“And if she loves Simon?”
“Then she came home, found herself on the verge of being accused of murder, and, terrified, ran away. Where would she go?” I tapped the pen on the table. “Simon. If she trusts Simon and cares about him and believes that he cares for her, wouldn’t she seek his help?”
“She didn’t speak to him before she left, did she?”
“No, he had no idea she was going.”
“If I were Lily, I’d be inclined to go to Simon’s estate and find somewhere there to hide,” I said.
“How would she get there? She couldn’t possibly walk all the way to Yorkshire.”
“No, and she couldn’t get a train going in that direction until tomorrow. I don’t think she’s left Anglemore. At least, not the grounds.”
“Then the men will find her,” Matilda said.
“No, I don’t think they will. Want to come with me?”
“Absolutely.”
When the carriage turned into Anglemore, beneath the gate with ELEUTHERIA—ancient Greek for ‘freedom’—carved into the stone at its top, I asked the driver to take us not to the house, but to the path that led to the ruins of the abbey. I knew Colin would have had someone search there, but I wanted to do it again myself. Sure enough, two of the gardeners were leaving as we arrived.
“She’s not here,” they called to us. “We’ve looked everywhere.”
“I don’t doubt you, but there is one place in particular I want to check.” They accompanied us, holding their torches to light our way. It wasn’t yet dark, but the moon had waned after its spectacular showing the night of the murder, and the shadows of twilight were already long. The sun would disappear altogether soon. We picked our way through the rugged stones of the ruins, until we came to a stone spiral staircase that rose up to meet a floor no longer above us. I started to climb it, and the gardeners balked.
“Madam, I don’t think that’s safe, and it don’t go anywhere. She can’t be up there.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “The steps are quite sound. I’ve been up here before.” I was careful, holding one of the torches myself, my other hand balancing on the wall to my left. Halfway up there was a narrow outlet, just large enough for a lady to fit into. I had discovered it during one of my early explorations of the ruins. Because the floor above was missing and the walls rose to varying heights, the space, which was little more than a platform, provided a charming view and a place to sit. I sometimes read there when the weather was fine. In the dark, no one looking up from the ground would notice someone there. I brandished my torch, fully expecting to see Lily.
She was not there.
Deflated, I went back down. “No luck,” I said. “There must be something, though. Something to tell us where she would hide.”
“Most likely she jumped on the first wagon that went by and is miles away already,” Matilda said.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “She would be putting herself at the mercy of a strange man, and that is not like Lily. She’s more cautious than that.”
“Caution goes out the window when one is trying to avoid being hanged for murder,” Matilda said.
“Let’s go back to the house,” I said. “I thought I was onto something, but I was wrong.”
Cook sent up a cold dinner for us, and Matilda and I picked at it while I tried to come up with something productive to do. I did not trust Prudence, but doubted I could get her to tell me anything more than she already had. If she disliked Lily as much as Davis and Alice suspected, she could have taken Simon’s book. She might have torn it up and only then returned it to Lily’s drawer. Of course, I had no proof other than Lily’s word that the book had been stolen. One would think she would have reported the theft to the housekeeper. Unless there hadn’t been one.
Still, something was nagging me about Prudence. I recalled Simon having told me that she had made overtures to him. His ensuing friendship with Lily was ample ground for Prudence to be jealous.
“I have an idea,” I said. “Come upstairs with me?”
Matilda and I climbed to the servants’ quarters. Prudence shared a room with one of the other kitchen maids, and so far as I could tell, they weren’t particularly friendly to each other. Cook was constantly telling them to stop bickering, and Mrs. Elliott had informed me that none of the other girls in the house was close to Prudence.
Their room was on the opposite end of the corridor from Lily’s and Alice’s. I’d done it up in sage green, and the view out the window stretched over the gardens. It was a pleasant space. Prudence’s clothes weren’t quite so neatly folded as Lily’s, but her Sunday shoes were polished like a soldier’s boots. She had a stack of letters from her mother and a collection of newspaper clippings of pictures of the Prince of Wales. There was nothing else.
I went through everything one more time, including the pockets of her spare apron and her coat, and then back to the dresser drawers, scrutinizing everything. This time, I noticed the paper lining in the third drawer of her dresser was pulled away just a bit in the back. I removed the clothes to the bed and tugged at the paper. Underneath it was Simon’s watercolor, which, I had been led to believe, was supposed to have been sent out to be framed.
I turned to Matilda. “Lily did not kill Archibald.”
We descended to the kitchen, where I grabbed Prudence and brought her into Mrs. Elliott’s sitting room, leaving Matilda in the corridor. The housekeeper must have known at once something was seriously wrong. She closed the door, crossed her arms, and shook her head at Prudence.
“What have you done now, girl?” she asked.
“I’ve done nothing but tell the truth,” Prudence said.
“That is not quite honest, Prudence,” I said. I showed her the watercolor. “Would you care to explain to me how this came to be in your possession?”
The girl’s face crumpled. “I was wrong to take it, Lady Emily, I admit that. But it was so beautiful, you see, and I knew I would never have something like it of my own. Lily was lording it over everyone, bragging about how Lord Flyte would do anything for her. She left it on the table in the servants’ hall, and I was looking at it there, so lovely, and I just couldn’t help it. One of the estate men came to collect it, but I told him Lily had decided she didn’t want it framed anymore. I rolled it up and took it to my room.”
“You did not remove it from Lily’s room?” I asked.
“No, madam, that’s God’s own truth.”
“Mrs. Elliott, did Lily tell you the painting was missing?”
“No, Lady Emily, she did not.”
“And she did not report her book as missing either?”
“No, as I told you before, she never mentioned receiving it, let alone having lost it.”
“Why did Lily leave the painting on the table?” Matilda asked. “I should have thought she’d take better care of it.”
“Like I said, she wanted us all to see it so that we’d think she was something more than she is. She doesn’t know her place.”
“I thought you said someone came to frame it,” I said. “Surely that is why Lily had left it on the table. Did you take Lily’s book, Prudence?”
“I am not a thief.”
“Prudence, if you are lying, you will be in a great deal of trouble,” I said.
“I’m telling the truth, madam. I am.”
I did not believe her. Matilda and I loitered in the corridor near the servants’ hall, below the long row of bells neatly labeled with the names of the rooms upstairs, speaking quietly.
“Prudence was very jealous of Lily,” I said.
“That much is evident,” Matilda said, “but do you think s
he killed Archie?”
“I think she may have,” I said. “She made advances on Simon, and heaven knows what might have happened if she had tried the same thing on Archibald in the abbey. I am going to ask Davis to keep an eye on her and make sure she does not leave the house. I want to speak to the groom who claimed to be with her the night of the murder.”
We went out the back door and crossed to the stables. Most of the grooms had gone with Colin to search for Lily, but Johnny remained, in his room above the horse stalls. I rapped on the door and opened it without waiting to be invited. Johnny leapt to his feet at the sight of me.
“Lady Emily, do you need your horse?”
“No, Johnny, I’ve come for a little chat,” I said. “Prudence stole something of Lily’s. Did you know this?”
“Madam, I—”
“You must be honest, Johnny.”
“I didn’t know she was going to tear it to shreds,” he said.
“The book? Prudence took the book?” I asked.
“I told her she should take it. Thought it would be a good joke. Lily was getting so high and mighty what with her attentions from Lord Flyte. Didn’t think it would do any harm. I thought Pru would give it back.”
“Prudence took the book,” I repeated. Things were becoming much more clear to me. “And she also took the painting.”
“I don’t know nothing about a painting, madam,” Johnny said, “and I promise you I didn’t have nothing to do with any of it. I don’t go in the house except to eat, you know.”
“Did she tell you about the book?”
“She showed it to me,” he said. “We hid it under a bale of hay overnight. She was supposed to return it the next day, but Lily hadn’t told anyone it was missing, so we weren’t sure if she had noticed yet and decided to wait on the returning part of the plan.”
“When did she tear it up?”
“Well, you see, madam, she got right scared when you all started asking questions about the murder again, and she was afraid of what would happen if you found out she had taken the book. She came out here after you talked to her in the library. I didn’t see her rip the pages. She must have done that upstairs.”
Behind the Shattered Glass Page 25