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Mary gasped as the truth came out. The girl in her arms shivered either from reaction or emotion, she couldn’t say, but there was nothing to do but let the scene play out.
“I was so frightened, Mrs. Tomlinson, and he was so strong that I couldn’t get away,” Molly said tearfully. “And never once did I flirt with him.”
“Shh. I know. He was a man warped in the mind.” She stroked a hand up and down the maid’s back in the hopes of calming her.
Before she could form a question of her own, Bright was one step ahead of her. “How did you come to stab Mr. Alderson?”
The cook’s body quivered with her anger. “I would not let that man defile my girl. She is destined for something better than working as domestic staff, and it is already difficult enough protecting her from the likes of Lord Stanwick.” One of her hands disappeared into a pocket of her apron. “As soon as I put my tray on the table where the food was set out, I took up the knife from the platter of roast beef and I ran at the butler.”
Mary softly cleared her throat. “Was it you who stabbed him?”
“Yes,” the woman admitted softly with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t think about it.” She shook her head. “When he turned to face me, I just plunged the knife into his chest, used both hands.”
“Ah, that gave you enough force to jam the blade between the ribs to get at the heart,” Bright said as the light of interest went into his eyes. “I’d wondered.”
Mrs. Cochran nodded. “Every day my daughter has been here, she has been plagued by the butler or even Lord Stanwick. Just because a servant has a pretty face and form doesn’t give anyone in the house the right to take what they want from her.”
“Agreed.” Mary set Molly away from her, for she suspected Bright would need her assistance. “Men need to understand that women’s bodies are not their possessions or playthings, that we have the right to say no.” Then she gasped. “Molly was the maid who screamed, which brought the rest of us running into the dining room.”
“Yes.” The girl nodded. “After the butler fell to the floor, my mother told me to set myself to rights, and as Henry took the knife away, she asked me to scream and tell whoever came that I was the one to find the body.”
“How much time passed between when your mother left the room and you screamed?” Mary was in danger of being caught up in the story.
“Mama attended to Mr. Alderson’s appearance for a bit, stuffing that part of him back into his breeches then doing up the buttons.” A deep blush appeared in her cheeks. “By the time she was done, Matthew had returned with a frivolous knife he said he’d found in the butler’s room. He dropped it into the puddle of blood near the body, told me that anyone would think Lord Stanwick killed Alderson. Everyone knew they butted heads.”
“Ah, but then there were complications.”
“Yes, because as soon as Mama and Matthew left by way of the door at the opposite side of the room, Mr. Bright—the younger one—came into the dining room. He asked me for a glass of water because he said the brandy was too strong...”
“And then you screamed.” The inspector cleared his throat to regain the attention of the room. “The fact of the matter remains that Mrs. Cochran killed Mr. Alderson in cold blood; you murdered someone.” He roved his gaze at all three staff members, landing on Matthew. “You threw away the knife?”
Henry dry-heaved. “I couldn’t let my mother be blamed. Alderson was a pig who cared about no one beyond himself.”
“That is not for me to say.” Bright glanced at Mary. “Fetch a footman. Have them comb through the rubbish bins. Since the snow kept the roads impassable, it’s unlikely they were emptied by the collection man yet.”
She had only been away from the housekeeper’s sitting room for five minutes, but when Mary returned, Mrs. Cochran had removed a pistol, presumably from her apron pocket, and now stood with the nose pointed at Bright’s heart. Oh, dear lord! Her breath stalled and her heartbeat raced as she took in the scene.
“Let my children go, Inspector,” the cook said even as the hand holding the pistol shook. “They had nothing to do with any of this and aren’t guilty of a crime.”
“Neither are you, Mama!” Matthew pushed out of his chair with such force that piece of furniture toppled backward with a loud clatter. “You were only defending Molly.”
“I’d hoped you would have left off, Inspector, assumed the case would have taken your attention, and if it didn’t, then Mrs. Tomlinson would have distracted you from all you needed to do.” Never once did her gaze drop as Mary edged along the wall toward Molly.
“But a man was murdered. There must be justice,” Bright said as he raised a hand, palm outward, in the attempt to calm her.
“What of justice for my daughter? What of justice for the other maids he violated during his time here?” Anger rolled through the cook’s voice. “Where is the justice for the maids—and some of the footmen—who are accosted by the lord and lady of the manor whenever the whim strikes? Living every blessed day knowing that one or the other of them will try to get up their skirts and rut with them as if they were nothing?”
“I’m not saying it’s not a problem—”
“I told Lady Stanwick about Mr. Alderson, warned her he would prove a greater problem than even her own husband. She promised she would bring it to her husband’s attention, but nothing happened. If anything, he grew even worse.”
Mary quelled the urge to snort. Nothing happened because Mr. Alderson held the dirty little secrets of far too many people in the household, and it no doubt gave him the feeling of power. She couldn’t rush at Mrs. Cochran, for the impact might make her pull the trigger and thereby shoot the inspector.
“What would you do in my place, Inspector?” the cook asked with tears in her eyes. “If someone threatened your son, you have done anything to protect him, wouldn’t you?”
The truth was in his eyes, stamped all over his face, and that led to confliction, for as she’d told him early on in the investigation, there were times when a thing wasn’t a black and white issue. Poor man. He had a large decision to make.
“Perhaps you are correct, Mrs. Cochran.” Then he slowly lowered his hand and straightened his spine. “If you wish to shoot me, do it. But I know from experience that will not make you feel any better, and neither will it absolve you from your crime. Instead, it will only add to it.” He never dropped his gaze from her face. “You might do a few years in Newgate for killing Alderson in defense of your daughter. It all depends on what a local judge will say, but if you kill me outright, you will definitely hang.”
Tension crackled in the air as silence reigned. By slow increments, the cook lowered her arm. Mary rushed over and gently pulled the pistol from her lax fingers. “What will happen now, Inspector?”
“I will do all that I can to help your case once the constable and the judge are involved. From all accounts, you were within your rights to defend your daughter.” He shrugged. “Since it is the holiday season, it is entirely possible neither will come out to Stanwick Hall until after Old Year’s celebrations.”
“And?” Molly joined her brother, and they clasped hands while everyone in the room looked at Bright.
“In the meantime, you may keep your position as the cook, and your children may retain their positions as well.” His lips formed a thin line, a sure sign he was conflicted. “Over the course of the next week, I will weigh the options of involving your children in this crime. However, I must remain true to my position, and I must insist that you remain in the manor house for the duration.”
“Thank you!” Mrs. Cochran dissolved into tears. She sat down heavily on the abandoned chair while her children gathered around her, all hugging and crying.
Mary gestured to the door with her head. She left the sitting room and once in the corridor beyond, she waited for Bright to join her. Once he did, she gave him the pistol. “I’m glad you weren’t shot, even though it was quite the risk.”
“There is always that on every case.” He grunted while removing a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, then he wrapped the pistol into it, and returned both to his pocket. “Thank you for your calming presence. Without you there, I have no doubt I would have ended up in the rubbish bin like the murder weapon.”
“I rather doubt that.” She shook her head. “You are trouble, but none of those people are bad and neither are they hardened killers. Just a family who looked out for each other, a mother who wanted a better life for her daughter, and all up against the obstacles of people of wealth and privilege who don’t value lives below theirs.”
“Agreed, but a crime was committed.”
“True, yet I somehow think justice was also served. You will do your best to have Mrs. Cochran’s sentence reduced, won’t you?” Surely he wouldn’t be so hard-hearted as to insist the cook go to prison.
“I give you my word, I will help all that I can. Knowing what sort of man the butler was, I’m rather willing to look the other way. Just this once.” His grin loosed butterflies in her belly. “What would I do without your commonsense approach to crime?”
Mary snickered. “Probably flounder around with your ego and arrogance, thinking from your own position of privilege.” She shrugged, for it was all too easy to tease him. “But I have faith that you will mature as a person. Congratulations for solving the case. You will need to tell me how you suspected the crime was committed by a member of the domestic staff.”
“It was all too obvious, my dear Mrs. Tomlinson.” He winked. “There are two droplets of blood in the lace of Mrs. Cochran’s cap. No doubt her clothing had been splattered when she stabbed the butler and she would have changed those, burned them no doubt. Except the cap, for it’s not a frippery and the lace isn’t solid enough to show a stain immediately. It was overlooked in the frantic clean up and then preparations for this week’s entertainments.”
“That is quite a reach, Inspector. Surely ferreting out the killer takes more skill than the off chance a stain on lace makes a person guilty.”
“Of course there is.” He closed the distance between them, cupped her cheek, and then claimed her lips in a fleeting kiss. “Someday I might even teach you the art of deduction and reasoning, but I’m glad you weren’t hurt either.”
“What now?” Surely this wasn’t the end of their association. It was all too deflating, and cold disappointment coiled through her belly.
“Perhaps we should rejoin the ball.” When he offered her his arm crooked at the elbow. “After all, I feel like celebrating.”
As she slipped her hand into that bend, she sighed. “As do I.” Though she’d had something completely different in mind.
“Also, I’m rather shocked to discover just how many unsavory secrets the people beneath this roof are keeping. Before I return to London, I’m going to give my brother a piece of my mind on many subjects, the least of which is hiring more proper people to fill the domestic positions. There is entirely too much foolishness going on.”
She couldn’t help chuckling. “Leave them be for now, Bright. Don’t you know that finding solace in the arms of a willing partner eases the pain found in life a tiny bit?” Her future might not be settled, but she didn’t wish to usher in Christmas morning with worry. “And I wouldn’t say no to a lovely glass of madeira or tea with a splash of whiskey. It has been a rather trying day.”
“I will procure whatever you need, my dear, for this night could have ended much worse.”
Indeed, it could have, and when she’d seen the pistol trained on him, her whole world had tilted sideways. No, she wasn’t in love with the inspector, but there was something there between them that hadn’t been evident before, and oddly enough, she wanted the opportunity to chase it, to find out what it could be if given half the chance.
