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Now that Gabriel’s soul and conscience felt as if they’d both been cleansed, he was ready to resume his investigation of the case.
And none of it would have been possible without Mary in his life. The knowledge of that boggled his mind. She was different than any woman he’d ever known, and absolutely nothing like his wife had been. Where Sarah hadn’t cared about much past herself or how anything might have affected her, Mary worried about those around her. She sympathized with everyone’s struggles and encouraged others where she could. Hell, already his son was half in love with her, and Adelaide was unconsciously imitating her fearless nature.
Additionally, the fact that she could dress his brother down without batting an eye or breaking into tears afterward betrayed her strength and determination. The only times he’d seen her emotional was when she shared her history with him... and when he told her of his.
God, she’s just a brick of a woman!
As he led Mary from the library and into the empty corridor beyond, he breathed a sigh of relief. Though he didn’t mind sneaking about in order to be with her, he would like to try and protect her reputation for as long as he could. Most of the people beneath this roof could go to hell and he wouldn’t miss them at all, but protecting Mary was now part of who he was, and he would continue to do so for as long as she would let him.
“You are uncommonly silent, Bright,” she whispered from behind him as he felt along the paneling for the hidden door that would open into the servant’s staircase. It didn’t matter that he’d spent years of his life in this manor house, he could never remember exactly where that mechanism was located.
“Perhaps now that I’m no longer a man defined by his secrets, I have nothing more to say.” He glided his fingertips along wallpaper that was stripes of trailing ivy and tiny pink flowers stamped on ivory paper. “Which if that is true, it’s a sad commentary on my life in general. Unless, of course, you wish to hear me ponder the advisability of continuing with Bow Street and Whitehall at my advanced age.” Never more had he mulled over retirement than he had this week after meeting Mary. Ah, there it is! With his forefinger, he pressed on a slightly raised knot, and then the hidden panel swung inwardly open.
“If you think you were only interesting for the secrets you keep, you are doing yourself a huge disservice.” She smiled when he glanced at her from over his shoulder, and that gesture went straight to his stones. “I find you absolutely and explicitly fascinating just as you are, and there is still quite a lot I don’t know about you.” Then she winked. “And if you think two and forty is too old, you’re heading the right way for another dressing down from me, Inspector.”
Why the hell does she make me so damned hard?
Heat prickled over his skin, for he wanted nothing more than to carry her off and lose himself in her for the rest of the night. It was slightly disconcerting, for he’d felt that way about his wife before he’d married her, and everyone knew how that had turned out. Would it be different with a completely different woman? It was too great a risk, though. “I thought you said you weren’t going to feed my ego?” Then he slipped into the dark passage beyond, which was little more than a narrow landing.
“I decided to give you a little nudge. After all, it’s nearly Christmas.” The sultry sound of her whisper in the small space she’d followed him into shivered over his skin. As the panel slid back into place, she rested a hand on his back. “At least until we are completely alone.”
Dear lord, the woman was trying to kill him, yet there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t respond to that blatant teasing. Turning abruptly around, Gabriel caught her head between his hands and treated her to a searing kiss he hoped would make her forget her own name for a time. Her petal soft lips cradled his while her hands came up to clutch his elbows. By the end of it, his knees had the strength of cooked porridge. When he released her, he couldn’t help a grin as she sagged against the wall.
“Better hope we solve this case tonight, my enchanting widow, because we both deserve a few days left to our own devices, whatever that might entail. Don’t you think?” Then he plunged down the shadow-filled narrow staircase, and his bootheels thudded on every wooden tread.
The soft inhalation of her breath echoed in the small space. “I rather like how you think.” Fabric rustled, and the faint tap tap of her heeled slippers indicated that she followed.
At the bottom of the stairs was a door with an actual handle. When he depressed the handle, the latch released, and he pulled the panel open. “I’ll need a candle.”
“I’m sure there is one around here soon.” Mary stepped past him and went into the servants’ hall proper, that housed a long table where the staff took meals together or enjoyed leisure activities such as card playing, embroidery, whittling, or other handiwork. As of yet, there wasn’t anyone in the room, for most of the servants were undoubtedly waiting on the ball guests or getting other rooms readied for Christmas on the morrow since some of them would enjoy the day with their own families. A candle burned in a brass holder on the table. She fetched it and brought it over to his position. “Are you looking for blood traces?”
“Yes, though it has probably been cleaned by now.”
Mary gathered her skirting in her free hand and then kneeled at the first step. A tiny glimpse of a stocking-clad ankle nearly proved too much for him. “I’m not seeing anything here.” She indicated a section on the wall where there might have been a red speck. “Is this a splatter?”
“Too difficult to tell. Let me examine further.” Gabriel took the candleholder from her. Tread by tread, he examined the wood up and down the staircase. “There are a few light smears, as if skirting did indeed trail through here.” He moved the flame nearer to the wall. “Some droplets here, near the tread.”
“But why? Was Mr. Alderson stabbed down here and went upstairs for some reason?”
“That’s a good theory, and could very well have happened, since I have a feeling this crime was between the domestic staff. Or perhaps someone ferried the murder weapon through here in an effort to remove it —and themselves—from the scene in a hurry.” As he came down the stairs and joined her at the bottom, Mary stood with concern in her eyes.
“Who do you think killed the butler?” She put a hand to her throat in an act of protection.
“I have an inkling, but let us discover if my hunch is true.” With cold foreboding twisting down his spine, he led the way through the common room. They weren’t going down the corridor toward the residence rooms. Instead, he turned down the corridor toward the left wing of the house that would lead to the kitchen and storerooms. The closer they came to the kitchens themselves, the more prominent savory and sweet scents wafted through the air. “I rather think the buffet dinner will be wonderful.” It was scheduled to be put out at ten o’clock.
“These aromas make me realize I hadn’t really eaten much at luncheon, and I skipped tea.”
“Perhaps I can charm my way into some food from Mrs. Cochran.” He glanced at his companion. “Do you think Henry and Adelaide are enjoying themselves?”
“That is the hope, but if my niece grows bored, she’ll simply retire for the evening or head to the drawing room to decorate the Bavarian tree.”
“And Henry will head to the library. The boy intends to study to be a barrister at the end of his education.” It gave him some degree of pride to tell her that. “He’ll do well at the position.”
“If he’s anything like his father, he can put forth a convincing argument.” She smiled at him in the way she had that made him feel as if he could do anything.
It was quite an unusual sensation with the power to knock him on his arse for the first time in his life. While he marveled at that, Gabriel nodded. “I appreciate that.” Then there was no more time to converse, for they’d entered the kitchen.
Festive holiday swags decorated the doorways here, and the red satin ribbons entwined with the pine boughs gave the rooms a jaunty look. The sharp scents of evergreens wafted to his nose as he came further into the kitchen.
Compared to the other areas of the servants’ hall, these rooms were bustling with activity. Mrs. Cochran’s matronly form pulled several trays of pastries from the ovens while kitchen maids arranged other finger foods artistically on silver serving trays. The assistant cook—a mousy woman with spectacles—quietly directed the maids and warned everyone to mind the hot trays and pots. A few footmen waited off to the side, and once the trays were finished, they whisked them from the kitchen and vanished through yet another servant’s staircase. No doubt the trays were bound for the dining room where the buffet supper would be served. Scullery maids shuttled dirty pots and pans to the area that housed sinks where more maids worked at scrubbing piles of soiled dishes.
Hardly anyone glanced up when he and Mary entered. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have minded, but tonight was different, for one of the people in this room had killed Mr. Alderson. With a nod to Mary, he strolled forward and flashed what he hoped was a charming smile at the women present. Some of the maids blushed and giggled, and when Mrs. Cochran turned about, her round face was wreathed in a pleased grin.
“Inspector Bright! It’s good to see you this night. I thought you would be busy dancing the evening away.” The welcome was as warm and cordial as any he’d been given each time he’d visited, but this time, he swore he heard a tiny, false ring to the words. Then her gaze shifted to Mary. “And Mrs. Tomlinson! Welcome. Would the two of you like a bite?”
He looked at Mary, who shrugged, but her eyes said she would very much like to eat. “That would be lovely. Thank you.” And somewhat awkward, for when they finished, he would have no choice but to make them all halt their frenetic preparations and answer his questions.
Hand pies with a crispy exterior and soft, savory, warm interior were given over. Both the kitchen maid and the cook plied him with smiles and teasing as if this were an ordinary visit. Pastries were abundant to sample, as were small mince pies. Cups of tea were procured, and for the next quarter hour, it was a merry time in the kitchens amidst the hustle and bustle of a house preparing for a Christmas Eve buffet dinner. Eventually, though, he took the last sip of tea and swallowed the last bit of a honey cake.
Time to return to the investigation.
“As always, the fare from this kitchen is second to none.” He followed the praise with a grin he knew would set them all at ease. “However, if I could pull you aside from your work for a few moments, Mrs. Cochran, I would like to ask you some questions regarding Mr. Alderson.”
Immediately, the attitude in the room shifted. Gone was the joviality of before. In its place came an undeniable tension that seemed to infect all the members of the staff.
“It’s hardly necessary, Inspector,” the cook said as she wiped her hands on her already stained voluminous pinafore-style apron. It matched the mobcap sitting on her graying black curls, the cap with the same two tiny bloodstains in the lace that had been there each time he’d visited her in the kitchens this whole week. “The man is gone. We should let his memory rest in peace.”
Gabriel chuckled, for it was a classic game of deflection. “I wish I could do that, Mrs. Cochran, but I need to do my position justice, and if the butler was indeed murdered by a violent hand, I must discover that too.”
As was her wont, Mary brushed the crumbs from the front of her gown. She gave the cook a sympathetic glance. “I know it’s concerning and quite terrifying to have a man from Bow Street invade your personal space. Especially a man you have watched grow from a boy.” When she turned her head and sent him a soft smile, his chest tightened, for she was the addition to his investigations he never knew he needed. “The sooner the inspector can conclude his work, the sooner we all can enjoy the holiday season.” She dropped her voice. “And perhaps you might feel better after you talk to him.”
Did she suspect the cook of having a hand in the murder?
For long moments, the cook stared at him while most of the frantic activity in the room slowed. Then she nodded. “We will utilize the housekeeper’s sitting room since she is busy abovestairs. No need to interrupt operations here else Lady Stanwick will have a fit her dinner wasn’t finished, and she has already been in a temper this week.” She glanced at the bespectacled assistant cook. “Will you take care of the rest, Eliza? I’ll take Molly and Matthew with me.”
“Of course, ma’am.” The thinner woman nodded, and with a curious glance at Gabriel, she issued a set of orders in a quiet voice, and the whole kitchen returned to the frenetic pace of before.
“Follow me, please.” Mrs. Cochran came through the kitchens with one of the maids and footmen trailing behind her.
Gabriel put a hand to the small of Mary’s back as he guided her back through the narrow corridors toward the other side of the servants’ hall. He put his lips near her ear. “Thank you for your assistance. I don’t know I could have done this as effectively without you.”
A faint blush stained her cheeks. “It has been quite exciting, and exactly the adventure I needed for this time in my life.”
Then they entered the housekeeper’s suite, and with so many people in the small sitting room, a crowded feel soon crept up on him.
Pulling a wooden chair with a spindled back to the center of the room, Gabriel waved a hand at the cook. “Please sit, Mrs. Cochran.” With a glance at the maid and the footman, he realized how similar in facial structure and eyes they looked to each other, as well as the cook. “Can I assume you are Mrs. Cochran’s children?”
“Yes,” Molly replied with the shake of her head. Over her pinned back dark hair, she wore a lace-trimmed cap similar to the one he’d found in the mill. “I’m nineteen, and the youngest of five. Two of us work here at Stanwick Hall.”
Matthew, the footman, cleared his throat. His face had gone white, and he had the air of someone who would bolt. “I’m the middle child at three and twenty. Been employed here for a few years.”
“It’s good to meet you both.” With knots of foreboding in his gut, Gabriel once more put his head close to Mary’s. “We’re entering into the end, and there might be complications. Please stand at the door to block a premature escape as well as to summon assistance I will no doubt need.”
She nodded but peered at him with speculation in her eyes. “I can’t imagine things will grow violent.”
“One never knows in these situations, especially if desperation was the motivation.” Once Mary skirted about the group and took up a position at the open door. He focused his attention on the cook. “Did you get along with Mr. Alderson?”
She snorted while clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “Mr. Alderson was a difficult pill to swallow most of the time.” A hard light entered her eyes. “For a man who was supposed to be the best and most proper of the males attending to this household, he was nothing but a lie. He was a schemer, nosy, a gossip, and a scoundrel.”
“In short, Inspector Bright, the man was a proper prick,” Matthew interrupted with a decided shake of his head. “He got what he deserved.”
Gabriel kept his own counsel. “Why would you say that?”
“He spent the bulk of his time chasing maids while preaching against that very sin to all who would listen.” The young man’s stiff posture suggested he held onto a fair amount of anger. “I’d wager everyone beneath this roof hated him.”
“While I understand that, the reason you are all here is to tell me if you hated him, and was that emotion strong enough to make you act upon it.” Gabriel slid his gaze to the maid. “What of you, Molly? How did you get on with Mr. Alderson?”
Where he assumed she would be as surly as her brother, dread and embarrassment went through the maid’s expression before tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t care for him, and never a day went by where I wasn’t harassed by him.” She sniffled. “I couldn’t get away from him; there was nowhere to hide, and he was always threatening to do horrible things if I didn’t fall in with his plans.”
“Did you?”
“No! I’m not the kind of girl, Inspector.” She shook her head. “Please don’t blame my mother.”
Mary widened her eyes at him from her position. The widow came away from the door and wrapped an arm about the maid’s shoulders. “Calm yourself. Nothing good will come of growing hysterical.” The soothing tone of her voice had Gabriel relaxing his own muscles. “Why shouldn’t Inspector Bright blame your mother? What happened?”
“I can’t tell you!” The girl sent a frantic glance at the cook. “I’m sorry, Mama, but this secret is killing me.” She covered her face with her hands. “It’s too horrible.” Then she turned into Mary and sobbed while the widow held her close and gently patted her back.
This was rapidly getting out of hand, and he needed to regain control. “Perhaps you should explain, Mrs. Cochran.” When the young man attempted to creep toward the door, Gabriel clamped a hand on his arm, led him to the only other wooden chair in the room, and gently pushed him into it.
“I suppose it was wrong for me to expect my children to bear all of this. I was only trying to protect them; they’re still so young.” Mrs. Cochran fussed with her apron. Finally, she sighed. “I tried to warn you away, Inspector, so you would stop asking questions and to just let the dead rest. Mr. Alderson wasn’t a good man.”
The seemingly random pieces of the puzzle were now sliding into place. “Did you sabotage the runner of the sleigh?”
“I did,” Matthew admitted. He was rather green about the gills. “Mama was concerned that you were coming too close to the truth. I said I would saw the runners which would cause an accident and hopefully keep you away from the servants’ hall.” He shrugged. “No one ever truly sees those of us who toil for the Quality.”
A snort came from Mrs. Cochran. “Unless they want to scratch a carnal itch, then suddenly they don’t care about class divide.” Bitterness wove through her words.
“So I’ve discovered over the course of this investigation.” He met Mary’s gaze. The concern reflected there enhanced his own. “Fortunately, Mrs. Tomlinson and I weren’t harmed, and her ankle is healing nicely.”
Matthew nodded. “I’m truly sorry, Inspector.”
“I have a feeling that wasn’t the only assistance you rendered during this charade, was it?”
“No,” he said on a whisper while Molly continued to sniffle, and Mrs. Cochran stared with a stony expression. “I tossed the knife.”
It was the beginning of the end. “Where?” If the inquiry was much sharper than he’d intended, Gabriel couldn’t help the fact. It had already been a vexing week.
The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow. “One of the rubbish bins in the root cellar.” He threw a frantic look at his mother. “I’m sorry.”
She gave him a small smile. “I should never have involved you or Molly in any of this.” Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. “It was the only way I knew to make everything stop.”
Reminding himself to harden his heart against what would happen next, Gabriel approached the cook’s chair. “Did you kill Mr. Alderson, Mrs. Cochran?”
“Yes.” The admission was propelled on a broken whisper, followed by a gasp from Mary. “I had no choice, Inspector. There was no other way to protect my daughter.”
This was beyond difficult, for none of the people in this room were criminals and neither were they layabout lords and bored peeresses who had evil in their hearts. “Walk me through what happened shortly before the butler’s body was found in the dining room.”
The cook nodded. “Dinner was ready to be served. I was bringing up the soup tureen through the servant’s staircase because the footmen were occupied elsewhere. Molly was already in the dining room ahead of me. She’d counted the linens wrong, so we were short by ten serviettes, and she had to bring up the remainder.”
When the girl in Mary’s arms sobbed, the widow tried to calm her. “Hush, dear. We all make mistakes, and no one is blaming you.” She wiped at the tears on the girl’s face. “What happened after you brought the linens into the dining room?”
“He came in.” Horror dripped from that short statement, but Mary continued to encourage the girl. “Mr. Alderson entered from the door at the opposite side of the room.” She rubbed at the moisture on her cheeks. “I tried to go around him; he always tried to put his hands on me, touch my breasts.”
Gabriel’s chest remained tight, for he could well imagine what had occurred. “Though this may trouble you, I truly do need to know what happened.”
The girl nodded. “I told Mr. Alderson I needed to return to the kitchens. He cornered me between himself and the end of the table. When I tried to get away, he grabbed me, said I’d been teasing him too often and that it was time to reap those consequences.”
Mrs. Cochran sent her daughter a look of concern. “Hush, dear. I’ll tell the rest.” She held his gaze. “I came into the room at the exact moment Mr. Alderson shoved my Molly over the table with her skirting up over her head and his shaft on prominent display.” Slowly, she rose to her feet as her face twisted with anger. “He would have raped my girl right then, while the Quality was entertaining in the next room!”
