A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(60)
I’d barely had time to take it all in before there was a rap at the door followed by Bree’s entrance, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of tiny sandwiches, which I attacked with relish. Gage and Henry followed swiftly on her heels.
“An excellent idea, darling,” my husband declared as he crossed the room toward me. His voice was light, but his gaze was watchful, scrutinizing me for some indication of how my conversation with Aunt Cait about my mother had gone. I offered him a tiny smile of reassurance. “I was just going to suggest something similar.” He dropped a kiss on my brow before snagging one of my sandwiches. There were plenty of them—more than I could eat—but I rolled my eyes nonetheless, for he and my brother were both notorious for filching food from my plate.
He flashed me a grin around his bite of food before turning back toward the door as Anderley slipped inside. If the valet felt any concern about my having overheard part of his and Bree’s conversation earlier—as he must have heard Bree talking to me after she left the dressing room—he didn’t show it. However, I did note he cast a glance in Bree’s direction before focusing on Gage.
“I’m sure you can all guess why we’re here,” Gage began after polishing off his sandwich in two bites. “So, while Mrs. Gage finishes her meal, I’d like to hear from Miss McEvoy and Anderley. Did you learn anything of interest from the Poltalloch staff?”
Anderley looked to Bree again where she stood with her hands clasped before her. I wanted to urge them all to sit, but there weren’t enough chairs. “I’m not sure there’s much to tell,” he said. “It seems Mairi was well-liked.”
Bree snorted, cutting him off before he could say more.
His brow furrowed irritably, at either her rude interruption or her contradicting him. Perhaps both.
“No’ by the other maids,” Bree insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “O’ course they said they liked her. Most people aren’t so rude as to speak ill o’ the dead. But they were a slovenly bunch. Stains on their aprons, tears in their sleeves, missin’ caps. At any other house they woulda received a scoldin’ or worse for presentin’ such a careless appearance.”
I lifted my gaze to catch Gage’s eye. “Mrs. Kennedy, the housekeeper, did indicate they have difficulty keeping staff. That she relied on Mairi a great deal.”
Bree nodded. “I figured as much. ’Twas her job to train the others and keep ’em in line, and they resented her for it.” She paused. “But I dinna think they killed her for it. No’ even by accident.” She turned to Anderley, her mouth curling derisively. “No’ wi’ the way they were carryin’ on, terrified they would be poisoned next.”
Anderley joined her in her disdain. “Two of them even claimed they felt ill but seemed to feel well enough after I’d escorted them to the servants’ yard.”
What precisely he meant by that, I didn’t know. And for Bree’s sake, I decided not to ask.
“It could all be a clever ruse,” Henry pointed out from where he leaned against one of the bedposts.
“Maybe,” Bree admitted, sharing another look with Anderley. “But I doubt it.”
“Did the maids say anything about Mairi’s regular duties? Or whether they’d seen her eat anything that morning before she left?” I asked, before taking a sip of tea to wash down the cucumber-and-watercress sandwich.
“They said she ate the same food as the rest of them,” Anderley said. “And as to her duties, she seemed to do a bit of everything.”
“Had her hand in everythin’,” Bree contributed with a nod. “That’s the way they put it.”
“Did they mention Miss Margaret preferring her?” I pressed.
“Oh, aye,” she replied with a humorless laugh. “We heard plenty aboot what a jammy assignment that was. How Miss Margaret would make ye putter aroond her room, doin’ nonsensical things or fixin’ her hair three different ways, just so she could talk to ye. Sometimes she’d even ask ye to sit and share her tea tray.” Something that was not often done, except perhaps with the housekeeper, depending on how close of a relationship she had with the lady of the manor. “Or so they claimed,” she added, seeing my arched eyebrows.
It sounded to me like Miss Margaret was lonely. What must it be like to be generally limited to the same building all of one’s life, with mainly your sister and the staff for company? Her sister Anne at least got to ride out across the estate and to the neighboring village, but Miss Margaret was largely confined to the walls of Poltalloch. I felt my heart stir with empathy for her, and I wondered how hard she would take the news of Mairi’s death. Perhaps we should have insisted on speaking with her.
Gage perched on the edge of the writing table, propping one leg over the corner. “What of you, Henry?” he turned to ask his half brother. “Anything to report?”
Between Henry leaning against the bedpost with one leg crossed over the other and Gage half-on and half-off the desk, I could only surmise that the fine art of perfecting the elegant slouch must be a family trait. In my husband’s case, I knew he employed it whenever he was giving something or someone a great deal of deep consideration but didn’t want to seem as if he was doing so. I studied Henry’s countenance, wondering if his motivation was similar.