by Rebecca Kent
“Please, Meredith?” Essie leaned forward, her forehead creased in concern. “We can’t lose Olivia and Grace. We just can’t.”
“Very well.” Meredith lifted a finger and shook it at the cook. “I’ll speak to Miss Fingle. You will be responsible, however, for keeping those girls out of trouble in future. You will have to be firm with them, and make sure they understand the consequences if they disregard your orders. I might be able to persuade Miss Fingle to be lenient, but I will not interfere a second time. Is that clear, Mrs. Wilkins?”
“Quite clear, Mrs. Llewellyn.” The cook smiled tearfully at her. “Thank you, m’m. I’m ever so grateful, I am.”
Meredith waited for the door to close behind her, then let out her breath on a grunt of disgust. “I detest having to go against Miss Fingle’s wishes.”
“I don’t blame you.” Felicity got to her feet again. “She’s a formidable old bat, but ultimately you are in charge and she will have to abide by your ruling.”
“She won’t be too pleased about it.”
“She’ll come around.” Felicity glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I’m going to retire to my room until supper. I have some work to catch up on.”
“Me, too.” Essie jumped to her feet.
Following them out into the hallway, Meredith felt suddenly weary. A quiet evening in her room would have been wonderful. But first she had to tackle Miss Fingle—something she was not looking forward to at all.
Chapter 18
When Meredith entered Miss Fingle’s office a few moments later, the housekeeper dropped her pen and pushed her glasses higher up her bony nose. “Mrs. Llewellyn! I thought you were still in the village.”
“No, I returned here as soon as I heard about the problem with the students.”
Miss Fingle’s sharp eyes glowed with anger. “Those two wretched maids have gone too far. I’ll be glad to be rid of them.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Without being invited, Meredith took a seat in front of the desk. “I think we should reconsider sacking them.”
The housekeeper shot up on her chair. “I beg your pardon? You surely jest? Those girls have brought nothing but disgrace and ridicule down on this school. What Mr. Hamilton will say when he hears of this I shudder to think.”
Meredith winced. “I was rather hoping we wouldn’t have to bother Mr. Hamilton with this.” Borrowing Felicity’s words, she added, “After all, no real harm was done.”
“No harm?” Miss Fingle’s harsh voice rose a notch. “No harm? Do you have any idea the uproar their little prank caused? To say nothing of the damage wrought upon the public house.” She twisted her nose. “Not that I have any regard for such an establishment. In my opinion, public houses are nothing more than dens of iniquity, providing liquid evil that befuddles men’s minds and turns them into drunken beasts.”
Casting her mind back to the glass of cider she’d enjoyed in the outside garden of the Pig and Whistle in Witcheston, Meredith cleared her throat. Her choice might not have been the strong ale that the men usually consumed, but it had carried quite a punch, all the same. “I am perfectly willing to reimburse the Dog and Duck for the damage they sustained, which I believe was no more than a few glasses.”
Miss Fingle pinched her lips together. “That’s for Mr. Hamilton to decide.”
“No,” Meredith said firmly. “That is my decision. I see no reason to involve Mr. Hamilton in this matter. This is a domestic issue, and as such, shall be resolved by us. I hope you are in agreement.”
For a moment the housekeeper looked as if she would protest, but then she gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. I will contact the publican”—she shuddered before continuing—“and ask for a total amount of the damage.”
Meredith let out her breath. “As for the maids, I don’t think I have to remind you how difficult it is to find good help these days.”
Miss Fingle snorted. “That’s obvious, judging by the caliber of our present servants.”
“Olivia and Grace have been with us since they were fourteen,” Meredith said quietly. “For the most part they have been reliable and trustworthy. Everyone makes mistakes.”
Miss Fingle narrowed her eyes. “This, in my considered opinion, is one mistake too many. With all due respect, Mrs. Llewellyn, you do not deal with them on a day-to-day basis. I find them both, but especially Olivia, to be insubordinate to an extreme. I am quite sure that we would be making a grave mistake by keeping them employed in this establishment.”
“Nevertheless, I feel that we would be better off with the devil we know.” Meredith rose to her feet, signaling an end to the discussion. “I’m quite confident that you will find a way to control their behavior in the future. Give them whatever punishment you deem fit, but we will continue to employ them. Thank you, Miss Fingle.” Leaving the outraged housekeeper sitting there open- mouthed, Meredith quickly made her escape into the corridor.
Well, she thought, as she made her way back to the room, that didn’t go quite the way she had envisioned, but she had achieved her purpose, though not without raising the housekeeper’s ire.
She wouldn’t want to be in the maids’ shoes for the next few days, but perhaps some stern treatment would temper their enthusiasm for getting into hot water.
All that evening, while working in her office, Meredith tried not to think about Stuart Hamilton dancing at the May Day ball. In spite of her good intentions, every now and then her mind wandered, and she imagined herself dressed in an elegant gown, floating across the floor, her hand clasped in his.
When the images became too frequent, and much too vivid for comfort, she decided to retire early. It had been an exhausting day, and something told her that James would once more be disturbing her sleep.
She made her decision while preparing for bed. The very next time the ghost appeared, she would tell him she had failed in her attempts to clear his name.
Failure did not sit well with her, but she saw no other course of action. To continue would not only be fruitless, it would be disruptive, and she could no longer afford that kind of intrusion into her life.
If she had been paying more attention to what was going on around her, the incident in the Dog and Duck might have been avoided. From now on, she would attend to her duties, and James would simply have to find another way to redeem himself.
She had barely fallen asleep before waking again to a chilly room. At first she thought something else must have awakened her, since the room remained dark and still. Since she had trouble falling asleep, however, she reached for her lamp, intending to read a few pages of her Sherlock Holmes novel in the hopes of relaxing her mind.
With the faint glow of the lamp falling across the bed, she opened the book. Moments later she felt, rather than saw a presence in the room. She looked up, braced for the confrontation. The pink cloud hovered nearby, the figure of James quite clear in the center.
“I’m glad you came.” Meredith set the book down and pulled the covers up to her chin. She felt somewhat vulnerable talking to a man while sitting up in bed. Even if he was dead.
James gestured with his hand, and she guessed he was asking a question.
“No,” she said, “I did not discover who killed your father. I thought at first Pauline Suchier had killed him, but it seems she left before your father was shot. I also thought it might have been your mother—”
She caught her breath as the mist turned dark red and James’s furious face glared back at her. “I know, I know. I just can’t bring myself to believe she would let you die for a crime she committed.”
Meredith waited until the mist had turned pink again before adding, “So, if you aren’t the culprit, I can’t imagine who the killer can be. I’m sorry. I can’t help you anymore. I’ve done the best I can. I’m not very good at this detecting work, as you can see. Besides, I have my own work to do and I can’t waste any more time on wild goose chases.”
She watched the mist turn red again, reminding herself over and
over that a ghost couldn’t hurt her. It shocked her, however, when James lifted his hand, pointed a finger at her as if he held a gun and crooked his finger around an imaginary trigger.
He had vanished before she had fully recovered. How immature of him. Surely he must know the gesture was highly inappropriate, given the nature of his father’s death. What was he trying to convey, for heaven’s sake? That she had disappointed him? That she was ineffective? All true, of course, but she had done her best.
Just the idea of him pointing a gun at her, even if it wasn’t real, chilled her to the bone. She could understand how Winnie must have felt, when Lord Stalham’s visitor had pointed the gun at her.
Still shivering, Meredith lay down, reluctant yet to turn down the lamp. Instead, she mulled over her last thought.
Lord Stalham’s visitor. With a gasp she shot up in the bed again.
Of course. How very obtuse of her. That was it. That was what she had tried to remember. Winnie telling her how the visitor had taken the gun from the cabinet the day before Lord Stalham was shot.
Concentrating now, she went over everything that she’d learned at the estate. Now that she could see it all clearly, she couldn’t imagine how she had been so oblivious to the obvious. For now, without a doubt, she knew who had killed Lord Stalham.
Meredith awoke early the next morning, filled with determination. She didn’t know if James would return after her outburst the night before, but nevertheless, she intended to see that his name was cleared and that the real killer paid for the crime.
“I am going to pay a visit to the Stalham estate,” she told Felicity and Essie, as they sat in the teacher’s lounge after having attended church. “I’d very much like you both to come along.”
Both women stared at her in surprise. “I thought you’d given up on all that,” Felicity said, her teacup held in the air. “Didn’t you tell us yesterday that you had reached an impasse in your investigation and could go no further?”
“I did.” Meredith reached for her cup and sipped the hot tea, letting it soothe her uneasy stomach. “However, I finally worked out who really killed Lord Stalham, and I need to set the record straight. Not just for James’s sake, but for the sake of justice. The culprit must pay for the crime.”
“You know who killed Lord Stalham?” Essie’s eyes were wide as she stared at Meredith. “You mean that James didn’t kill his father after all?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“So who is it?” Essie demanded. “Do tell us.”
“I’d rather not at this point.” Meredith replaced her cup in its saucer. “It will make things a lot simpler if you don’t know that for now. I don’t want the killer to realize I know the truth until the proper moment.”
Felicity frowned. “Don’t tell us you are actually going to confront the murderer.”
“I am.” Meredith smiled. “Which is why I want both of you to come with me. I need your help.”
“Don’t you think”—Felicity leaned forward to accentuate her words—“that it would be wiser and a good deal safer to tell Inspector Dawson what you know and let him handle it?”
“Definitely,” Meredith agreed. “But the inspector can’t investigate further without solid evidence, and unfortunately, there is none. I need to get that evidence so he can arrest the right person.”
Felicity rolled her eyes, while Essie looked frightened. “I hope you don’t want me to talk to that awful butler again.” She gasped. “Is he the killer? Oh, I just know he is.”
“I promise you will both know everything just as soon as I feel I can tell you.” Meredith looked from one to the other. “For now, however, all I can do is ask you to trust me.”
Essie still looked as if she would rather climb a mountain on her knees than do any such thing. Felicity, on the other hand, nodded. “I just hope this is all worth the risk.”
Meredith put her cup and saucer back on the tray and stood.
“My sentiments exactly. In any case, it’s time to find out. Reggie is most likely waiting outside for us, so if you ladies are ready, I’d like us to be on our way.”
“What exactly do you want us to do?” Felicity followed her to the door. “I hope it’s not anything too strenuous. Thank heavens it’s Sunday. At least we won’t have to account for our whereabouts. I trust Sylvia will be able to manage, seeing that the students are still confined to their rooms.”
“I certainly hope she keeps a better eye on them than she did yesterday.” Meredith stepped outside and glanced down the corridor to make sure there were no stray students wandering about. “I had a word with her as we were leaving the church this morning. She seemed willing enough to watch over everything until we return. To put it in her words, she had nothing better to do with her time. Though if you ask me, she’s anxious to make up for her incompetence yesterday and wants another chance to prove her worth.”
“I just hope I don’t have to talk to the butler,” Essie said, joining them in the hallway.
“You might have to, I’m afraid.” Meredith led the way to the front door. “He has forbidden me to come back to the estate, so if we manage to get inside the mansion I might need you to keep him occupied long enough for me to carry out my plan. Also, we will have to find another way into the building. We can’t go through the front door and I’d rather avoid bumping into Mrs. Parker. I have a feeling she’s not about to let me in the house, either.” She glanced back at Felicity. “I might have to make use of your skills at opening locks.”
Felicity grimaced. “At least my spell in jail taught me something useful.”
Essie shuddered. “I still can’t believe they put you in that awful prison simply for protesting.”
“I’m afraid that’s where our maids will end up if they insist on fighting for women’s rights.” Meredith reached the front door and opened it. “Ah, there’s Reggie. Come, ladies. Let us see if we can trap a murderer.”
Half an hour later Reggie halted the carriage down the lane from the Stalham estate, as Meredith had ordered. “We will walk up to the mansion and go in the back entrance,” she told the other two as they set off down the road.
Instead of walking up the driveway, Meredith cut through the trees, holding up her skirt so that the brambles didn’t snag the fine wool. Following close behind, Essie asked nervously, “What will happen to us if we are caught trespassing?”
“Don’t worry,” Meredith told her, with a great deal more confidence than she felt, “I have a friend in high places who will help us if that happens.”
“If you’re talking about that morose Inspector Dawson,” Felicity said, stomping along behind them, “I wouldn’t place too much trust in his ability to protect you. After all, he has to uphold the law, and we are trespassing.”
“He will think it justified when I hand him Lord Stalham’s killer.”
“How are you planning to do that?” Essie asked anxiously. “You can’t just walk up to a murderer and demand he confess to the crime.”
“There are other ways to get a confession.” Meredith lowered her voice. “Now be quiet. We are nearing the mansion and I don’t want to be caught by the grounds-keeper before we even get inside.”
She led the rest of the way in silence, and eventually emerged from the woods at the rear of the house. “We have to cross the lawn to the French windows,” she said, pointing to where the glass doors were almost hidden by a trellis of vines. “If we are quick about it, we should be able to get there unseen. Felicity, you go first in case the doors are locked. Beckon to us when you have them open.”
Felicity’s usual confidence seemed to have deserted her. Frowning, she stared at the seemingly vast stretch of lawn between her and the doors. “Wouldn’t it just be more simple to go to the front door and demand entrance? If all three of us barge our way inside, we should be able to overpower that malicious little butler.”
Meredith shook her head. “For my plan to work, I have to make it look as if I have been allowed admittanc
e to the mansion.”
“I think it’s time you told us what your plan is, so we can at least be prepared.”
“My plan,” Meredith said quietly, “is to talk to Winnie alone in the library.”
Felicity raised her eyebrows. “You hope to do this without Smithers finding out?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find out. I’m just hoping my plan works before that happens.”
“But why—”
Meredith held up her hand. “I don’t have time to explain it all now. Please, Felicity, just trust me and open those doors for us.”
Felicity hesitated for a few more seconds, then nodded. “Very well. Just remember, I’ve already done one spell in prison. I don’t relish the thought of doing another.”
“You won’t,” Meredith assured her, praying she could keep that promise.
She drew Essie back into the trees while Felicity sprinted across the grass to the mansion. “Essie, once we are inside the library, I want you to keep a lookout for Smithers. If it seems that he will discover us, I need you to talk to him long enough to allow Felicity and me to get out of sight. Just tell him the housekeeper let you in, and that you are looking for your parasol that you left behind the last time you were here.”
Essie looked confused. “I didn’t have a parasol.”
“Yes, well, let’s hope that Smithers doesn’t remember that. Whatever you do, keep him away from the library.”
Essie looked about to cry. “What if I can’t?”
Meredith patted her arm. “Just do your best, dear.” She looked across the lawn to where Felicity stood waving frantically. “Oh, my. We had better go. Come on, Essie. Stay close behind me.”
The distance across the grass was farther than she’d thought. By the time she reached Felicity she was out of breath, and Essie’s cheeks burned with the exertion.
Felicity simply pointed at the doors, which stood ajar. “They weren’t locked,” she whispered.