Whatever his feelings, Barrington would not express them in front of the servants. I sensed, however, that Harriet had gone a little too far. He had a long memory, and while he might forgive a born lady for being cantankerous, he might not excuse a woman he still clearly thought of as a social inferior for being so blunt. On the other hand, he might relish a bit of bravery from the ranks. I did not know him well enough to guess. I did think, however, that he was sufficiently pragmatic not to want to rid himself of one third of his enquiry team – two thirds, because I would certainly step back if he was disrespectful to my wife.
Smiling down at her, I tucked her arm into mine, and we set off together. Who would we have to sit next to? I was glad to see young Webbe pull back a seat for her and be thoughtfully attentive. Poor young Turton sat the other side. Meanwhile I was claimed by Lady Pidgeon, who had managed to conjure from somewhere a complete outfit of deepest black. The other guests and all the servants had to be content with black armbands, hurriedly handed out by Mason to those still lacking them. What did the faces about me reveal? Lady Pidgeon’s suggested a deep weariness I had not noticed before. On others, there was a lot of puzzlement, and definitely irritation – perhaps the early hour accounted for some of that. There was also some of the huffing Barrington had so accurately predicted, though the women were more subdued than Harriet had expected.
Looking about him to see that all his guests were there, Barrington took his place at the top of the table and touched a water-jug with a spoon. The silence he requested came raggedly: his guests were too busy speculating aloud to their neighbours on what he might say to listen to what he actually did.
At last he coughed his way into their awareness. ‘You are all sensible people,’ he said. ‘You know that a dreadful crime has been committed and that the murderer must be found. To that end—’
‘So why is she no longer locked up?’ a woman’s voice demanded. ‘Why is she eating and drinking with the other servants?’
There was a rumble of agreement – no, less than a rumble than a dawn chorus, since most of the assent seemed to be female.
‘My enquiries so far show that the maid in question could not have committed the crime. In fact, I haven’t quite got to the bottom of how she came to be imprisoned in the first place. A bad business, very bad.’ The tone of his voice, his posture, reminded us of his successful military career. No one was going to argue with a commanding officer like this. ‘I repeat, the real murderer must be found, and since the police are unlikely to be able to reach here for some time I have deputed two people to help me. I ask for, no, I demand, your total cooperation. They may ask questions you do not like, but they have my personal authority to do so. Is that clear?’ There was a subtle pause between the three words of his question. ‘You will speed matters up by writing a complete statement of all your activities yesterday – times, places, people you talked to. Even people you saw but did not speak to. Each bed chamber will be provided with stationery and writing equipment.’
This time there was a rumble. Male voices were demanding a chance to ride or shoot some damned pigeons.
Barrington responded with a snort of laughter. ‘My dear chaps, in this weather? And in these floods? No, duty calls. Many of us have been officers; every one of us is a gentleman. And I put you on your honour to stay in the house and write your statements.’
‘Who is going to read them?’ asked a young lady I couldn’t see. ‘There may be …’ She tailed off.
‘There may be matters we prefer to keep private. We don’t want prying eyes going over what we write,’ someone finished for her.
There were a couple of girlish giggles.
Then came a more adult voice. ‘A servant poking her nose—’
To my astonishment, Lady Pidgeon laid her hand on my wrist, raising her index finger in warning. ‘Let me address that inanity, if I may. If you allude, Caroline, to Mrs Rowsley in such terms, then let me tell you do yourself, not her, a disservice. She is a woman of considerable intelligence and absolute discretion. Mr Rowsley, our host’s cousin, is a professional man, with huge responsibilities for other people’s property. It was the Rowsleys who risked their lives in yesterday’s storm to see me safe. Have you heard a word of that from them? Did they tell you how ridiculous I must have looked? Of course not. They are not cheap gossips. Give respect where respect is due.’
Even as I murmured my thanks, I heard resentful whispers, catching the information that she was one of those wanting votes for women – as if that in any way detracted from her opinions.
Webbe, of course, had to chip in: ‘I for one cannot imagine any friend of Lord Halesowen being anything other than the soul of discretion. I am sincerely glad too that Clara has been released and trust that the experience has not harmed her.’
‘My dear fellow, she’s just a servant! Too.’
But the cheap comment got no support. Barrington simply stood as tall as he could and stared the idiot down. ‘Now, breakfast is about to be served. At the end of the meal, I expect you to disperse and carry out your ord— my requests. To the letter. Turton, you’re the nearest thing we have to a padre on the premises. I’d like a word with you in the sewing room – that’s my temporary HQ – as soon as you have eaten.’
As soon as the other guests started to leave the breakfast table, Harriet got up too. Judging she might want a few moments of reflection, I waited five minutes longer before returning to the sewing room, where she was already installed. Calm and composed she might appear, but she was pale to the lips. Had she eaten? I doubted it, and she had probably eschewed coffee lest anyone hear her cup rattle against the saucer. Her lowered eyes and bowed head almost suggested she might be praying. I took my place beside her, but said nothing.
At last she spoke. But her words came as a complete surprise. ‘I’m so very glad we all treated John Timpson as an equal.’
Timpson had been a clerk in the Thorncroft household, but had a past that none of us cared to refer to – apart from the members of the servants’ hall, who resented his presence and played cruel tricks on him. Why was she thinking of him? The painful reason dawned on me: because, of course, the news about her status and the release of Clara might well have come from the other side of the green baize door.
I took her hand. ‘You did. You led the way. And he has a very good job now, one he couldn’t have dreamt of without his experience with us. Now, you didn’t eat any breakfast, did you? Would you prefer tea or coffee? Look: we have a plate of breakfast scones and – yes – raspberry jam? Yes, Mason – I should imagine it was he? – has augmented our supplies.’
She managed a smile. ‘Bless him, he gave me the most unauthorized wink as he brought them. What a good butler he’ll make one day. Do you remember how resentful he appeared when you asked if he played cricket? Did you ever find out why?’
I snapped my fingers. ‘I had completely forgotten. Should we bother? We have enough things to worry about without discussing a young man’s thwarted ambitions.’ But Mason had showed he might be our ally. On no other grounds than that he was a human being in a house where servants were not happy, I must ask. We heard voices. ‘You’re right. Here are Barrington and Turton. Shall I slip out and thank him for the jam? Unless you would prefer to?’
‘I’ll stay,’ she said quietly. ‘Mr Turton might be less self-conscious in front of me. Possibly.’
To my shame, I was not sorry to be spared the agony of his stammer, poor devil.
Mason seemed surprised to be thanked, and even more surprised when I drew him slightly away from the sewing-room door where he had been hovering.
‘The other day – was it only yesterday? – I assumed that you would be one of the cricket team. I think I touched a nerve – offended you. Am I right?’
He flushed as far as the tips of his ears. ‘It’s not my place to be offended or not, Mr Rowsley, sir.’
I smiled. ‘It might not be your place to have a tantrum and smash the china, but you are allowed feelings, Mason. A straight answer, if you please. Were you disappointed not to be playing yesterday?’
‘Between ourselves? In that case, sir, I was hopping mad. Especially when you saw the mess most of the house team were making of it – with a couple of notable exceptions, sir.’ He bowed at me with a decided grin.
‘Have you any idea why you were not picked?’
‘Ask the Major, sir. Not me. I bowl nearly as fast as you, sir. I’d have … never mind.’ He bunched his hands into fists. ‘And something else – snatching the village’s best batsman and not making use of him? What was the Colonel thinking of? Or, more like, the Major.’ He mimed spitting.
I patted his shoulder. ‘Thank you for your honesty – you have my word I will not breathe a word of what you said to anyone except my wife, who,’ I added with a smile, ‘sent me out here to thank you for her breakfast. You use your eyes and your brain, young man, don’t you?’
He nodded cautiously, as if bracing himself for another – even more awkward – question. He was spared. Our hostess swept along the corridor. Mason and I bowed as one.
‘Thank you, Mason,’ I said. He took the hint.
Lady Hortensia – I had not yet been invited to stop using her title – did not appear pleased to see me, so I asked neutrally, ‘How is young Baby Arthur this morning? I understand some children are afraid of storms,’ I added vapidly, in the face of her continued silence.
She smiled glacially. ‘He behaved as one would hope the son of a distinguished soldier would behave.’
I could think of no immediate response to that, for to remark that a child not yet six months old was unlikely to be aware of his heritage would clearly be inappropriate. All I could manage was a feeble, ‘Excellent.’ I sincerely wished I had never embarked on the topic of children. It would give her an opening, if she wanted one, to comment on what she would perceive as Harriet’s unconventional behaviour at the end of the match. ‘And how are the ladies coping? I hardly had time to speak to anyone at breakfast.’
‘In a ladylike way, I should hope.’
I did not like her smile, or the stress on the adjective. Heavens, was it she herself who had spread the information about Harriet? Not trusting myself to ask, I offered a neutral bow. I had to say something, so it might as well have an element of truth about it. ‘Would you excuse me? I am running an errand for Barrington.’ I regretted my choice of words at once. It demeaned me. Nonetheless, I set off for the servants’ corridors, where I hoped to borrow some suitable outdoor clothes and obtain precise directions to Harrison’s cottage.
The answer to the question I was supposed to ask – did Harrison think that communication with the outside world in general and the rector in particular would be possible today – was tacitly answered by the stable lad who provided me with both a horse and waders. When he greeted me outside his cottage, mercifully on a slight hill, Harrison himself didn’t offer another view, but he seemed almost touched to see me, reaching up to shake my hand. It was easier to talk as equals if I dismounted, however, so soon I was leaning on the gate beside him, watching the ripples on a flooded dip in the field I had crossed.
We exchanged a few platitudes about the weather and the floods – we agreed that he was lucky his cottage had survived untouched – before I felt able to ask, ‘What happened at that match yesterday?’
He turned to look me straight in the eye. ‘A lot of jiggery-pokery, that’s what. And,’ he continued, ‘a lot of money at the bottom of it all, if you ask me.’
‘I do ask you, and I’m interested to hear everything you want to say.’
‘Sometimes I talk better if I listen first,’ he said firmly.
‘Very well. First I assumed that the removal of the best batsman – you! – from the village team was to make sure Colonel Rowsley’s team would stand a better chance of success. It would have tied in with that strange notion that he had to be dismissed three times before he was out.’
‘Don’t you worry your head about that, sir. That’s what we all agreed when he came back so badly injured, poor bugger. He’s a decent man at heart. No, I had the same idea as you: the house team would be able to win more easily if I had to bat for them. Which is why I was so bloody cross. But then when you and I were put right down the batting order, I was more puzzled than cross. Why was the Colonel’s team trying so hard to lose the match?’
‘Because someone was betting on the outcome,’ I replied, suddenly sure that he was right.
He nodded, adding, with a slow smile. ‘Now you just have to find who.’