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CORA EXITED THE LIBRARY.
“Miss Clarke,” somebody whispered.
Cora turned around, but didn’t see anybody.
At least...not at first.
But then Cora spotted the tips of a pair of distinctly plain shoes behind one of the oversized blue and white vases that seemed to adorn the manor house as if it had been at one time intended as a museum of the Orient.
A head peeked out. Blonde locks fell under a starched cap.
“Gladys?” Cora asked.
Scarlet painted lips swept into a wide smile. “You’re here.”
“Indeed.”
“I had hoped you would be,” Gladys said. “I’m not exactly supposed to be in this section of the house.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not a footman,” Gladys said, frowning. “And it’s not morning, and the fires don’t need to be lit.”
“I won’t tell anyone I saw you.”
Gladys smiled. “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t, miss. You’re not like the others.”
“Th-thank you,” Cora stammered.
“I’m not playing hooky, miss,” Gladys said. “I think that’s the term you use in all those American films.”
“Probably not the best weather for it,” Cora said.
Gladys snorted. “Indeed not.”
“Did you want to tell me something in particular?” Cora asked.
Gladys’s cheeks turned rosy. “I’m probably being silly. It’s likely nothing, miss. And lord knows it’s not nice to gossip.”
Cora waited for Gladys to continue. The maid seemed occupied with flicking her gaze this way or that, as if hoping to gain confidence from the furnishings.
“But it might be important,” Gladys said. “I mean, if there hadn’t been a murder, I wouldn’t say anything, but...”
“You can tell me,” Cora said.
Gladys drew in a deep breath. “I never wanted to betray anyone’s trust. I’m a servant. I’m beholden to the family. And I do hate gossip.”
Gladys’s eyes sparkled, and Cora almost smiled. She suspected that Gladys’s opinion of gossip was not entirely one of disdain.
“Miss Brown!” A deep baritone voice barreled toward them. “What are you doing here? Do you not know what time it is?”
The butler assessed Gladys. “You’ve got face paint on.”
“Make up,” Gladys countered. “This isn’t the nineteenth century. Or some carnival.” Her lips twitched, and the butler’s glower strengthened.
“Young lady,” the butler said. “You’ll get yourself in trouble one day.”
Gladys lowered her head and left.
“You rang for me, Miss Clarke?” Wexley said.
“Mr. Randolph Hall did,” she said. “I’ll—er—just tell him you’re here. Perhaps you might—er—bring some tea for us first.”
“Very well, Miss Clarke.” The butler left.
Cora entered the library. “Wexley will soon be here with tea.”
“Splendid.” Randolph shoved some papers inside a folder on the desk.
“I spoke with one of the maids too,” Cora said, despising that her voice ascended too high, as if it were scaling the keys on the right side of the piano. “Gladys. She was here. And then the butler scolded her for being in this room. Isn’t that odd?”
Randolph nodded slowly, but his face had a thoughtful expression.
Perhaps the rule might not be considered particularly eccentric to English people.
“She wanted to tell me something,” Cora said. “But she left before she could.”
“I imagine it was about one of your dresses,” Randolph said. “Perhaps she wasn’t certain about the ironing technique for US clothes.”
Cora frowned. “Surely it wouldn’t vary.”
“You drive on the wrong side of the road,” Randolph said. “Who knows in what strange manner your dressmakers might fashion your garments?”
Cora blinked. “Perhaps one of my clothes had a missing button.”
“Right,” Randolph said. “Perhaps that was—er—more likely.”
Wexley arrived soon after, and Randolph beamed. “Take a seat.”
“Very well, Mr. Hall.”
“Good. Tell me, have you gotten any word from the outside world?”
“No,” Wexley sighed.
“Have all the servants been accounted for?”
“They’re all here. Except for young Billy of course. He volunteered to inform the police, since the telephone lines are still not working. I hope they can arrive tomorrow.”
“How do you find working here?” Randolph asked.
“This is certainly far better than most.” He smiled with the confidence of a man who’d worked all his life to get a good position and had achieved it.
“How long have you been with this family?”
“Some twenty years. I’ve known the new master since he was a boy. I started as a footman, though thankfully no one can remember that now.” He gazed into the middle distance, perhaps recollecting his well-positioned tables and prompt refilling at wine at dinner parties that at long last had earned him his promotion.
“What are your impressions of your employers?”
“It’s not my place to reflect on that,” Wexley said.
“Someone here may have murdered someone else,” Randolph reminded him. “We just want to protect people.”
“Anything you can say can be ever so helpful,” Cora said. “Even small things.”
“I don’t see how.”
“We’ll compare it to what other people said. We might discover patterns, confirmations or strange contradictions that can lead us to the murderer.”
“I suppose these are unconventional times,” Wexley said.
“Can you please detail the events of this week?” Randolph asked. “Was there anything out of the ordinary? Anything that had upset the duke?”
“The duke was given to being upset. He was passionate. Far better suited to be leading an army into battle. He might have made a good factory foreman as well, though we wouldn’t like to tell him that.”
“Was there anything he was particularly concerned about this week?”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything. The master might be dead, but he wouldn’t want me to divulge his secrets.” He tilted his head. “He was going to meet with his solicitor after Christmas.”
“To change his will?”
“I believe he was interested in making queries as to how he could limit his son’s access to his estate after his death. He was doing the same for his wife.” The butler’s lips twitched. “He was even considering donating to charity as a means of diminishing the extent of his son’s inheritance. One wonders how many charities have received money because of people’s discomfort with their relatives.”
“The house, though, would still have passed to the duke?”
“Yes. He is the heir.”
“Do you have an opinion on who may have harmed him?”
“Not at all. I was, as you know, in the servants’ quarters. I am afraid I can shed no light.”
“Hmph. Thank you all the same.”