Mr. Wyatt had said Ellen was sickly. But Simon wondered what the other servants might have to say about it. “Thank you, Doctor. Mr. Wyatt, I would like to speak to the other servants, particularly Ellen’s brother. I believe his name was Thomas?”
Mr. Wyatt turned from the window at last. “I am afraid you will have to return tomorrow, Mr. Page. Thomas has been given leave to accompany his sister’s body. He left with the undertaker and curate.”
Simon hissed in a surprised breath, stunned by their audacity in having removed the body before a policeman even arrived. “When was this?”
“They kindly waited until I had finished my examination,” Dr. Shaw said, smiling gently. “As I concluded there was no need for an inquest, there was likewise no need to delay.”
Simon hoped the grinding of his teeth wasn’t audible. “Very well, Doctor, thank you.” He waited to speak again until the kindly, unhelpful old man gave his sympathies to the master of the house once more and departed. “Mr. Wyatt, you have said you were home all day, is that correct?”
“It is. I have spent my time going through my father’s papers.”
“And have you been down to the kitchens or the servants’ quarters at all?”
“Of course not. I can only imagine how in the way I would be down there.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
Frank raised his brows, surprised. “Any number of servants. I never go belowstairs, so my presence down there would certainly be marked. You may ask them, if you like.”
Simon regarded him silently for a long moment, his own expression giving nothing away. Captain Hartley still had not discovered, one way or another, whether Frank was telling the truth about his movements the night his father died. But now, as then, he met Simon’s eyes with perfect ease. He was either a superb liar or he was telling the truth. And Simon was determined to find out which it was.
“Has your cousin been by at all today?”
“Percy?” Frank looked surprised, then frowned in thought. “He was here this morning, if I recall. It is a little hard to keep track of the days at the moment. Everything feels so strange. But I think it was this morning that he wanted to see my brother.” He lowered his voice. “We are all doing our best to keep an eye on him these days. Just in case, of course.”
The back of Simon’s neck prickled. “Just in case?”
Frank looked uncomfortable. “Of course, none of us believe these rumors that Arthur was responsible for my father’s death. People will say anything. But … it is hard to shake the thought once it has been put in one’s head, wouldn’t you say?”
Simon wondered whether Frank had brought up the rumors so that he might tell the constable not to believe them or to make sure that the constable had heard them and was taking them into account. But he let none of his thoughts show on his face as Mr. Wyatt continued.
“And now with Ellen gone, we shall need to decide how to look after Arthur properly. It is a tricky business. And distressing, on top of everything else that has happened.”
“How would you describe your relationship with your brother, Mr. Wyatt?”
Frank hesitated, then sighed. “To be quite honest, sir, it would be a stretch to say we have one. Arthur, as far as I can tell, lives in his own world. And it is not one into which I am invited. I will do my duty by him, of course, for my father’s sake, but it is rather hard to love someone who doesn’t even seem to know you are there.”
“If there are rumors that Arthur might have been responsible for your father’s death, do you think he might be responsible for Ellen’s death as well?” Simon didn’t for a moment think there was a chance of that, but he wanted to see how Frank would react.
The younger man stilled, looking suddenly nervous. “If he hurt one person … No.” He shook his head firmly. “There was no sign that anyone was responsible for Ellen’s death. She became unwell, and she died. It was a deep tragedy, but there it is.”
“And what does Lady Wyatt think of the matter?”
“I believe she is yet unaware of Ellen’s death. She has been staying with her family in Hans Town for the past two nights.” Frank grimaced. “I imagine she will soon be moving back there permanently.”
“Since she received so little from your father’s will?”
“What do you know of my father’s will?” When Simon said nothing but merely raised an eyebrow, Frank sighed. “Well, in any case, yes. They had no children, so my father wasn’t obligated to provide for her beyond a small maintenance. It is plenty for a widow to live on, I am sure. And I cannot imagine it will matter for long.” He shrugged. “A woman like Lady Wyatt can find any number of suitors.”
“And what did Mr. Percy Wyatt think of your father’s will?”
“You would have to ask Percy that,” Frank said, his voice suddenly stiff. “He has not shared his feelings with me. Was that all? I have a busy day ahead of me yet.”
* * *
“Lily, we have a call to pay.”
Lily glanced up from her book, shocked to find her father waiting in the doorway of the book-room, dressed for visiting in his ever-present black and gray, his hat in hand. He cast a critical glance over her own clothes, a pretty afternoon gown of pale blue.
“That will do, I suppose. If you have a black spencer or shawl, though, that would be far more polite for a condolence call.”
“A what?”
He scowled. “I need to pay a call on Frank to discuss several matters concerning Sir Charles’s will. And as you are now acquainted with Lady Wyatt, it would be deeply insulting if you failed to accompany me.”
Lily, still distracted by her distress over Ellen’s death, struggled to keep her irritation in check. “Did it occur to you that I might have plans for the afternoon?”
“Do you?”
Jack had left with Jem shortly after Mr. Page departed, wanting to see if he and the boy could learn anything else at the Wyatts’ house. Lily and Ofelia had waited as long as they could for the Bow Street Runner to return, but eventually Ofelia had felt she must depart. And Lily had been left pacing on her own, wondering what the others were discovering without her.
“No,” she was forced to admit.
“Well, then. I will wait in the front hall for you. You shouldn’t need more than five minutes to ready yourself.”
He left the room before she could protest further. And, other than on principle against her father’s high-handedness, she didn’t really want to.
If Mr. Pierce was paying a condolence call, that gave Lily an opportunity she had no intention of passing up.
* * *
“The inquest into my father’s death has returned its expected verdict, of course.” Frank sighed, settling back into a chair. “It seems we must be resigned to this Mr. Page doing his poking and prying.”
“Ruffians and upstarts.” Mr. Pierce sniffed. “I cannot understand how it has become so commonplace for them to meddle in the business of their betters.”
Lily, perched on the edge of her chair, clenched her jaw to stop herself from uttering anything unwise. She kept her gaze fixed on Frank Wyatt, not wanting to imagine what her expression would look like if she turned it on her father.
Frank’s own expression as he leaned forward was as serious as she had ever seen it. “They have at least given us permission to proceed with my father’s burial, so we will be leaving as soon as we can for Devon. I wanted to speak to you before we go. As one of the trustees responsible for overseeing my brother’s welfare, sir, I need your advice. There have been some … troubling rumors.”
“Yes, of course. I am happy to give whatever advice I might be able to offer,” Mr. Pierce said, his expression grim. “Though perhaps …” He gave Lily a sideways glance.
“Ah, indeed.” Frank looked a little flustered. “Another time, if you think—”
Lily was about to protest—she wanted to hear what Frank might say about his brother—when Mr. Pierce continued. “Perhaps Lily might seek out Lady Wyatt while
we have a more private discussion? Since her presence was of so much comfort before.”
“I should not like to be the reason you delay seeking my father’s advice,” Lily said quickly, trying to sound sympathetic rather than eager. As much as she wanted to stay, an excuse to leave the room and see if she could find the housekeeper was even better. “I am happy to see if I may be of assistance to Lady Wyatt once more.”
Frank hesitated again, then nodded. “Indeed, perhaps you may. Lady Wyatt just returned from her mother’s house, and she is …” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Well, however she is feeling, she has not cared to inform me.” He sighed. “She was not satisfied with the way my father left his estate. I know she and my father were fond of each other, but I cannot help but be pained by how very mercenary she appeared when the will was read.”
“I am sure, Frank, that no matter how much you loved your father, you would be distressed had he not provided for you after his death,” Lily pointed out. Her voice came out a little sharper than she’d meant it to.
“Now, Lily, you’ve no idea how Sir Charles settled things, and it is not your business to know,” Mr. Pierce said, giving her a pointed look as he claimed the most comfortable chair in the room. “Frank, pour us a drink, lad. I shall be happy to help how I can.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Lily, you run along and take care of all that feminine nonsense.”
It took all Lily’s willpower to maintain her bland, polite mask, though it was of some comfort that Frank looked embarrassed on her behalf. “If you will give me a moment, Lily, I will be happy to summon a maid to escort you to her.”
“No need.” Lily rose. “I remember the way to Lady Wyatt’s chambers. And if your staff are preparing for a trip to Devon, I am sure they have more than enough to keep them occupied. I shall be able to manage on my own.”
The low murmur of their voices followed her out of the room. Neither of them watched her go, so Lily paused just on the other side of the door, holding it open the barest amount. It was just long enough for her to hear Frank say, his voice pained, “I am sure he did not understand what he was doing. But what are we to do?”
She closed the door before she could hear her father’s answer.
* * *
A detour of about fifteen minutes, Lily decided, would be manageable. Frank and her father wouldn’t be done before that, and the likelihood that Frank and Lady Wyatt would speak to each other long enough to compare notes on her activity was almost nonexistent.
It wasn’t much time, but it should give her a chance to slip downstairs and find Mrs. Harris, the one who had sent the message that she was suspicious about Ellen’s death and the woman most likely to notice anything strange going on in the house.
The housekeeper’s room was usually near the servants’ hall. In a townhouse like this one, it was likely downstairs, and the easiest way down there would be the servants’ stairs. Those were generally found at the back of the house, and as Lily left the front parlor where her father and Frank were talking, she headed that way. But before she got far, the sound of footsteps in the front hall caught her attention.
Footsteps in a townhouse weren’t remarkable; the Wyatts, unlike her, kept a large staff on the premises. But these steps hesitated, clicking unevenly across the tile of the foyer, then suddenly becoming rapid before they became the muffled thumps of someone heading upstairs. Curious, Lily peered back around the corner and caught a glimpse of Wilkes, Lady Wyatt’s personal maid, going upstairs.
For servants to use the main staircase would have raised Lily’s eyebrows, but a lady’s maid enjoyed a certain privileged position in the household due to her intimacy with the lady of the house. Lily wouldn’t have found the sight of Wilkes on the front stairs too strange were it not for the way she moved: hesitant, a little hunched, glancing over her shoulder, then hiking up her skirts to ascend rapidly out of sight.
Lily bit her lip, momentarily torn, before making up her mind. The carpeted stairs muffled her own steps as she followed after the lady’s maid.
If Wilkes had looked back, Lily would simply have asked for directions to Lady Wyatt’s rooms, where she was supposed to be heading anyway. But the lady’s maid, now that she had made it to the top of the stairs, didn’t look back. Instead of turning toward her mistress’s rooms, she went the other direction.
Wilkes walked decisively toward a room halfway down the hall before turning back to glance on more time over her shoulder. Lily stayed at the top of the stairs, shielded from view by a tall, ostentatiously gilded armoire. If she remembered correctly from her first visit, that was the door to Sir Charles’s study.
The hallway carpet muffled Lily’s footfalls as she made her way toward the door. Hanging back just out of sight, she could hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing, paper rustling, and an occasional quiet curse. And when she inched forward just enough to peer around the edge of the door, she found Wilkes flipping through the papers on Sir Charles’s desk, looking through any drawer she could open and cursing the ones that were locked.
“Where did you put it, you damned miser?” she muttered, just barely loud enough for Lily to hear. Though her movements were as careful and quiet as she could manage while ransacking the desk, there was a frantic edge to them.
And apparently she couldn’t find what she wanted. Bracing her arms against the edge of the dark wood, she let out a shaky, frustrated sigh. She glanced at the clock ticking mercilessly on the wall before straightening her spine and turning toward the glass-fronted bookcases that lined the wall.
Lily backed away, frowning in thought and unable to come up with an explanation. But according to the clock in the study, she had been gone from the drawing room for three minutes already. It was time to find the housekeeper.
She had previously noted the narrow, nondescript door at the end of the hall; a quick peek through it showed her that it was indeed the servants’ stair. Lily slipped inside and was about to make her way belowstairs when she heard soft voices coming from farther up.
She knew one of those voices. Frowning, Lily changed direction and made her way up to the third floor as silently and quickly as possible.
The stairway was empty by the time she gained the top, but the door leading out into the hall was still swinging gently. Lily made her way out, glancing around as she did. This space clearly wasn’t used as much; it had none of the comfort of the second floor, where the family’s private rooms were located, or the ostentatious decor that was intended to impress visitors. The third floor was where children’s rooms would be; above that were attics, which could be used either for storage or for servants’ rooms, depending on the size of the staff and the number of rooms belowstairs.
Lily paused, listening until she heard quiet voices from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. She didn’t try to hide her approach, not wanting to startle the people she knew would be waiting there. Instead she quietly whistled a well-known sailor’s song that had recently made its way into the popular song sheets that hawkers sold for a penny.
The voices fell suddenly silent, and then a curly-haired head poked out of the doorway.
“Missus Adler!” Jem whispered, glancing past her down the hall to make sure there was no one else there before beckoning her to hurry. “Thought my heart was going to leap out o’ my chest afore the captain said it was you. In here!”
Lily gave him an apologetic smile, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder before she slid past him into the room. Inside, Jack grinned at her, one finger on his lips.
“Thank you for warning of your approach,” he said quietly. “Our little scalawag has been hanging around the kitchens enough to win over the estimable Mrs. Harris, and he convinced her that I am a man to be trusted. She agreed to sneak us up here to look around. This is Mrs. Adler,” he added, turning to the woman who was watching them with barely concealed nerves.
The housekeeper was dressed severely in a stiff gray gown, her thinning hair pulled tidily back under a white cap. Her face wa
s drawn and tense as she glanced nervously between Jack and Lily. Jack’s introduction made her relax fractionally, though she still eyed Lily with wary skepticism.
“You’re the one as helped Thomas? That Ellen went to?”
Lily closed her eyes briefly, fighting back a surge of guilt as she remembered Ellen’s hesitant trust, her determination to protect her charge. “I am.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you don’t look like someone as can do much to help us.”
“I shall at least listen, which is more than you can say for many of the people in this house,” Lily said, looking around.
The room they were in was a bedroom, in the spot near the schoolroom and nursery that would normally be given to the nanny or governess. Lily knew there was no one in either of those positions in the household, but the room was still fitted up as a bedroom, with the austere linens and old furniture of a servant’s room. Unlike most servant’s rooms, however, there was only one bed, a luxury of privacy.
“I assume this was Ellen’s room?”
Mrs. Harris nodded. “She slept up here near Master Arthur, so she could be close by in case he needed her in the night.” She glanced nervously toward the door. “If you please, we shouldn’t stay up here long. No one comes up here much, and the head housemaid took Master Arthur to sit in the garden—he likes to draw out there—but there’s no knowing when they’ll be back.”
The housekeeper spoke calmly enough, but her hands twisted nervously in the folds of her apron.
“We shall be quick as we can,” Lily promised. “Jem, will you keep an eye out?”
He gave her a quick salute, then scampered out the door.
Jack was standing near enough to give Lily’s arm a quick, comforting squeeze before he turned back to survey the room. “I had just started going through her things,” he said, gesturing toward the dresser, which had three drawers and a washbasin on top. Next to it on the floor, a tattered valise was open enough to show a pile of old books, mostly novels and histories. On the wall, two pegs held a cloak and apron. “Shall I continue?”
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