A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(48)

“See what you can learn about her,” I told them. “And whether she knew Mairi. But don’t let her know you’re asking.” The less she believed we knew about her, the more easily she might slip up.





Chapter 14




We were surprised to discover that news of Mairi MacCowan’s death had already reached Poltalloch before our arrival. When asked, Calder the butler told us one of the tradesmen who had called at Barbreck earlier in the morning had shared the sad report. While possible, I couldn’t halt the suspicion it might have been Liam who’d shared the distressing tale. A suspicion which was only heightened when Calder told us that Miss Campbell had ridden out to speak to one of her foremen but that he’d been instructed to allow us to speak to the staff about Mairi if we wished.

As that was exactly one of the things we’d hoped to do, we seized the opportunity before it could be rescinded. Bree and Anderley went to the servants’ hall to speak with the lower servants, while Gage and I were invited into the housekeeper’s spartan sitting room. A ladder-back chair from somewhere belowstairs was added to the two stiff armchairs, the cushions on their seats worn so thin they might have been nonexistent. The rug was serviceable, but neither plush nor attractive, and the small bookshelf looked rather forlorn with just half a dozen books perched on it. The sole ornamentation was a rather crude watercolor of a nondescript landscape and a delightfully incongruent porcelain pig with a garland of roses around its neck. I found myself wanting to ask questions about the porcine figure and had to force my thoughts away from it, as the housekeeper began prattling on about Mairi the moment we settled into our respective chairs.

Mrs. Kennedy was a spare woman with a neat bun of white hair perched on her head, and evidently an aversion to clutter. In regard to objects, that is. In the case of words, it seemed there could never be an overabundance.

“Puir lamb. To die so young and so terribly.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief before leaning forward to vehemently add, “The lass didna deserve it, I can tell ye that. Mairi was a good girl. A hard worker. Best maid I had.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “The others are helpless. A lot o’ scapegraces who couldna find work elsewhere. But Mairi was different. I was groomin’ her to take my place.” She sighed. “Noo, it’ll have to be Kady.” Her mouth puckered. “Or an outlander.” I remembered that Kady was the name of the maid who had dropped the tea tray during our last visit, but apparently the prospect of someone foreign to this area was far more horrifying.

“Your porcelain might be safer, but who knows what else might be at risk,” I quipped dryly.

“Exactly!” she declared, but then her brow furrowed, plainly trying to decide if I was speaking in earnest or mocking her.

“What of Liam Gillies?” Gage asked, distracting her. “Was he known to the staff here?”

“Aye. And when I heard he was suspected o’ the crime, I couldna believe it. No’ Liam. He doted on Mairi. Wouldna harm a hair on her head,” she declared with finality, and the gimlet glare she cast on us dared us to tell her otherwise.

“We don’t actually think Liam is the culprit,” Gage replied, and was awarded with a nod of approval. “We’ve been able to deduce that Miss MacCowan was dosed with the poison that killed her before she reached Barbreck. Most likely before she even reached her father’s cottage. Which means she probably ingested it here or between Poltalloch and Barbreck.”

Mrs. Kennedy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Poison? I thought the lass met wi’ violence.”

“No. The effects of the poison were not pretty, but it was definitely poison that killed her,” Gage stated. “Do you know when Miss MacCowan departed from Poltalloch? What did she eat that day? Did she take any food with her?”

Mrs. Kennedy continued to stare at us in shock. “I . . . I dinna ken. I’ll have to ask.”

I nodded. Those were things it was more likely the cook or maids would know. “Has anyone else been ill?”

She blinked rapidly, understanding the implication. “Nay, no’ that I ken.” Stiffening, she sat upright. “Should we be worried?”

“We can’t say for sure,” I answered honestly. “But at this point we have no reason to believe anyone else is in danger.” Her face was pale with uncertainty, but I could offer her no further reassurance.

“And yer certain it wasna somethin’ she ate or drank at Barbreck?”

“It wasn’t.”

“Because that would at least make some kind o’ sense.”

Gage and I shared a look.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

Her mouth clamped shut, and her eyes darted back and forth between us. “You mun’ ken. Aboot the broken engagement between Miss Campbell and Lord Barbreck?”

I nodded in encouragement, hoping to overcome her evident resistance to speak of the matter, likely born out of habit.

“Weel, Barbreck came here no’ three nights past, raising a right stramash aboot some paintin’ and reopenin’ old wounds. We all heard him,” she emphasized. “Everyone. We couldna keep it from the lower servants, and their mouths run like deer when there’s somethin’ that shockin’ to share. If Barbreck’s staff didna already ken, they woulda kent wi’in a day. Maybe two.”