Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Emily"s plan to interrogate the staff of Northcott House was not going as well as she had expected. It was, she knew, mostly her own fault for having expected them to behave as Nora did at home.

While the Mifford"s maid would take any excuse to stop working and gossip over a cup of tea, the staff of Northcott House were far more dedicated to their tasks.

Even Sylvie, who Emily found hiding in Mary"s dressing room, flicking through a copy of La Belle Assemblée had no wish to speak with her.

"I do not fraternize with the other servants," the pretty French maid huffed, following Emily"s woeful attempts at interrogation. "I do not know what they do, nor do I care. Though I do care, Miss Mifford, that you appear to be wearing my mistress" best day-dress."

"She told me I could borrow it," Emily lied, before beating a hasty retreat to the drawing room, in case Sylvie demanded she change.

There, she found Mary, with her slippered feet propped up on a silk cushion, snacking on a plate of brightly coloured macaroons.

"I was just having a short rest," Mary said defensively, as Emily entered, "I was rushed off my feet all morning."

"If I was a duchess, I"d stay in bed until noon and eat only bonbons," Emily answered, evenly, "I am not Mama, I do not care how you spend your mornings."

"Well, I was very busy," Mary continued, in a slightly martyred air, as she sat upright, "Going over menus with Mrs Finch, writing a list of guests for the ball Northcott wishes to host, and then listening to Cecilia witter on about baby names. Did you know that the Northcotts have a long history of naming their sons Baldwin? Cecilia thinks I should take up the tradition again, though she conveniently skipped over it for her son."

"Baldwin"s not so bad a name," Emily offered, unconvincingly. She was certain it meant something nice like "brave one", but it did unfortunately bring one to mind of "bald one" instead. One didn"t want to tempt fate with by bestowing an unfortunate aptronym upon the poor babe.

"I am not carrying a child for nine months, then birthing it, only to bestow it with a horrid moniker to satisfy my mother-in-law," Mary answered, with such ferocity that Emily made a conscious decision to offer her elder sister absolutely no opinion whatsoever on baby names for the remainder of her confinement. Mary looked so ferocious, that Emily decided, actually, it might be best not to have an opinion on anything for the next few months.

"Did you have many callers or just Her Grace?" Emily queried, as she took the seat opposite her sister. Mary had placed the plate of macaroons down upon the table, and they looked most tempting, but she did not dare reach out to take one in case she angered the duchess, who was still scowling darkly.

"No," Mary conceded, then reached out to push the plate of macaroons closer to Emily, "Though I pray that you won"t fret; with each day that passes, more people will forget that you were accused of murder. Soon, no one will think it at all when they hear your name!"

The macaroons did not look nearly so tempting, now that they were being offered in consolation, but Emily still reached out and took one, for it would be a shame for them to go to waste.

"Actually," Emily began, with a resolute nonchalance to her voice, "Lord Chambers and I are working together, to try figure out who the true culprit is..."

This news was met by startled silence from Mary, though after a moment, a rather smug looking smile began to bloom on her lips. Her joy at having instigated a match, however, soon turned to concern, and Mary cleared her throat.

She was, Emily realised, about to deliver an older sister"s speech.

"As marvellous as it is that you are spending time with Lord Chambers," Mary began, "I do not think it seemly for you--an unmarried young lady--to spend so much time investigating a murder with a bachelor."

"That"s exactly what you did with Northcott," Emily huffed, outraged by the hypocrisy of it all.

"Yes, but we did that in Plumpton," Mary replied, "Without the eyes of the ton upon us. And, besides, I am older than you."

"I will accept your first argument, but not your second," Emily responded, evenly, "And to counter your first argument, I must stress that Lord Chambers and I have never been alone together. Any interactions we have had, have taken place in drawing rooms or ballrooms, all under the watchful eye of the ton. We have behaved with the utmost propriety."

"Oh, really?" Mary sounded rather disappointed.

"Yes," Emily lied, for she was not about to tell Mary about the almost-kiss in Lady Wilcox"s garden, "And we are quite close to finding out who it truly was who killed Lady Hardthistle."

"Really?"

This time Mary"s tone was one of definite excitement, and Emily knew that while her sister liked to play the part of a staid and steady duchess, she was still an excitable Cotswolds" girl at heart.

In a rushed whisper, Emily explained all that they knew so far. That both Mr Fitzgibbons and Sir Cadogan had professed a wish to strangle Lady Hardthistle, but only the former had an alibi. That Lord Chambers was convinced Ethel had something to do with it all, but that Emily was of a mind to think the squire the culprit.

"So, now, I am waiting for Lord Chambers to return and tell me what--if anything--he has learned from Sir Cadogan, whilst I am charged with finding out any gossip I can about Ethel. I tried to ask the servants here if they had heard any sorts of rumours or gossip, but they were no help."

"Yes," Mary wrinkled her nose in annoyance, "They"re a rather boring lot. They"ve too much respect for Northcott to indulge in idle gossip. Hmm, I wonder..."

Mary waved her hand toward the plate of macaroons, and Emily pushed it across the table to her. She bit into one and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes, until at last a thought struck her.

"Lady Albermay!" Mary exclaimed, turning her eyes to Emily, "Her servants might have noted something on the night of the ball."

"Do you think?" Emily whispered, to which Mary shrugged.

"We"ll never know, unless we ask. Come, help me up!"

Mary held out her hand and Emily duly obliged by hopping from her own seat to assist her sister to a stand. Mary"s bump had grown progressively larger over the past few weeks, and soon it would be difficult to conceal.

"Fetch a pelisse and summon the carriage," Mary instructed, as she dashed towards the door, "And fetch me a shawl while you"re at it."

"Where are you going?" Emily called after her.

"The water closet," came the faint reply.

Fifteen minutes later, the two sisters were ensconced inside a cosy carriage, which was trundling its way through the early afternoon traffic, on its way to Grosvenor Square. When the carriage drew up outside Albermay House, Mary sent a footman to the door with one of her calling cards. They were outside of what was usually considered acceptable calling hours, but the footman returned a few minutes later to inform them that Lady Albermay was "at home" to them.

Once inside, the Albermay"s stoic butler led them to the drawing room, where the countess awaited them with a wide smile and tray laden with tea and French fancies.

"How kind you are to receive us, Lady Albermay," Mary stated, as she took a seat on an opulently upholstered chaise longue.

"How kind you are to call," the countess replied brightly, as she began to pour the tea, "I don"t get many visitors--old Alby says it"s because I"m American, and if he hadn"t married me, he"d avoid me too. Tart?"

Lady Albermay proffered a slice of apple-tart on a plate at Emily, who took it, grateful to have something to do with her hands. The countess" directness was rather unusual for an English drawing room, though Emily supposed it was better than polite chit-chat.

"Husbands can say the most tiresome things," Mary offered, sympathetically.

As Northcott near-worshiped the ground that his wife walked on, Emily supposed that her sister was just being polite, and trying to smooth over the countess" social faux-pas.

"I"ve said too much," Lady Albermay frowned, as she finally took a seat, "Gemini! I do let my mouth run away with me. Let"s change the subject; how goes your murder investigation? I"ve been reading the news-sheets every morning in the hopes that I"ll read the perpetrator has been found."

"That"s one of the reasons we came," Mary answered, her eyes shining, "We were wondering if any of your staff might have noticed anything on the night?"

"The Runners did question them," the countess answered, frowning slightly as she tried to recall the events of that night, "And, from what I can remember, they didn"t learn anything of note."

"Perhaps the Runners weren"t asking the right questions," Emily interjected, keen to take the reigns back from Mary, who had--as usual--placed herself in charge. In a rushed whisper, Emily explained about Sir Cadogan and Ethel, and how she and Lord Chambers were trying to find information on either.

"I suspect if there"s any gossip about Ethel that the servants will know it," Emily finished, to which Lady Albermay gave a delighted laugh.

"And, I suspect I know which one of my servants will be in possession of said gossip," she answered, before reaching over to the small table beside her chair for a bell. She gave it a loud ring and a maid appeared seconds later.

"Fetch Mrs Gordon," Lady Albermay instructed the footman who answered her call.

A few minutes later, a stout woman of about fifty years arrived, wearing the severe black uniform of a housekeeper.

"Do sit, Mrs Gordon," Lady Albermay bid the woman, who nervously perched herself on the edge of a chair. "Her Grace and Miss Mifford have some questions they would like to ask you, about the night of Lady Albermay"s murder."

The housekeeper gave Emily and Mary a wary glance--as though she feared they might accuse her of having carried out the heinous act.

"Well, we"re more interested in knowing if you think that there"s anything of note that we might need to know about Ethel, Lady Hardthistle"s maid," Emily clarified, keen to put the woman at ease.

Her plan worked, for Mrs Gordon"s rigid posture relaxed at once, and she clucked with disapproval.

"Strange, whisp of a lass," Mrs Gordon answered, in a broad Scottish brogue, "Acted so pious all night, haranguing the maids for special teas for her mistress, as well as blankets and shawls...then, the minute the firework display was announced she disappeared into the garden to..."

Mrs Gordon trailed off, her cheeks flushing pink.

"To do what?" Emily pressed, trying to hold her impatience in check.

"I took some time away from my duties, to enjoy the firework display for a moment," Mrs Gordon began, with a careful look to her mistress, who smiled with encouragement for her to continue.

"I was standing at the window of my bedchamber, on the third floor," Mrs Gordon elaborated, "So I had a bird"s eye view of the gardens, and who did I see in the darkness sharing a passionate embrace with a gentleman? Only the high-and-mighty Miss Ethel Willard, that"s who!"

"Goodness!"

Mary was the first to react to this morsel of gossip; her blue eyes were alight with excitement and she bounced up and down in her seat.

"Did you happen to see who the gentleman was?" Mary pressed, to which the housekeeper shook her head regretfully.

"It was too dark," she commented, "I could only guess it was an older gentleman; portly and stout, so he was."

That wasn"t very helpful, Emily thought, from what she could tell, most gentlemen over forty would match Mrs Gordon"s description.

"They were quite far away, too," Mrs Gordon defended herself, though no one had chastised her, "I only knew it was Ethel because she"d spent half the night following me about, complaining. They weren"t the only kissing couple in the garden, for that matter; such scandalous goings-on amongst the aristocracy!"

"I never knew the English could be so interesting," Lady Albermay drawled, with a slight twinkle in her eye.

"We don"t get any of that carry on in Scotland, I can assure you, my lady," Mrs Gordon answered at once, keen to prevent her fellow countrymen from being tarred with the same brush.

"If you were at the window for the firework display, how was it that you did not see the murder taking place?" Emily wondered aloud.

Mrs Gordon clucked in annoyance, and rolled her eyes before she answered.

"One of the chamber maids broke the crystal punch-bowl holding the ratafia, and I was summoned to the rescue. The whole house would fall apart, if it were not for me."

"Indeed it would, Mrs Gordon," Lady Albermay agreed, causing the Scots woman to blush again.

"Did you happen to see Sir Cadogan, at all?" Emily continued, not wishing to drift from the topic at hand.

"I"m not familiar with Sir Cadogan, I"m afraid. We had nearly two hundred souls to feed that night; I can"t be expected to know each person who waltzed through the door. Will that be all?" she finished, brushing down the apron of her skirts, "The butcher will arrive soon, and if I"m not there to supervise, cook will have hidden all the best cuts for himself."

"That will be all," Emily answered, offering her a grateful smile, "Thank you so much for your help, Mrs Gordon. It has been most illuminating."

The housekeeper took herself away, and as the door closed behind her, Lady Albermay turned to her two guests with excitement.

"Why," she exclaimed, "If Ethel was carrying out an affair, perhaps she convinced her lover to murder Lady Hardthistle? The hope of marrying into a fortune could induce any man to murder."

"It could," Emily agreed, thoughtfully.

Lord Chambers had been correct to suspect Ethel, after all. Emily owed him something of an apology, for she had berated him sternly for trying to focus their attention away from Sir Cadogan. While the squire was in no way removed from the list, he was now not the only one left upon it.

If only they knew who it was whom Ethel had taken up with.

"If only we knew who the gentleman was," Mary said aloud, echoing Emily"s very thought.

"I expect Ethel is in Faversham, on her newly inherited estate," Emily answered, with a sigh. As a single young lady, she could not very well trek down to Kent and hide in the bushes outside Ethel"s new home, in the hopes of discovering who this mysterious beau was.

Lord Chambers, on the other hand...

Emily was just wondering how she might convince the marquess to spend a night or two hiding in bushes, when Lady Albermay spoke, interrupting Emily"s plotting.

"Are we certain she remained in Kent?" the countess mused, aloud, "If I had spent a lifetime in service and had just inherited a fortune, there"s no way I"d squirrel myself away in the countryside. I"d be in London, buying myself lavish gowns and taking ices in Gunter"s."

This comment was met by stunned silence from her two guests, for both were thinking just how right she was. When Mary had first come up to town, after marrying Northcott, she had spent the entirety of the Little Season--and a good chunk of the duke"s fortune--shopping on Bond Street, and dashing into every coffee shop or patisserie she passed. It was very possible--and highly likely--that Ethel was indulging in just the same manner.

"I wonder where Lady Hardthistle kept residence in London?" Emily mused, aloud.

"Belgravia, or perhaps Mayfair," Mary answered with certainty, "The old family seat would have gone to whoever inherited the title when her husband died, so I would assume her to be in a newer part of town. Lord Chambers will know--you might ask him, the next time you meet."

The last part was said in such a pointed, knowing manner, that Emily could not help but scowl at her sister. Until, that is, that she recalled they were in company and she assumed a more neutral expression which concealed her mutinous thoughts.

"This is all so exciting," Lady Albermay gave a wistful sigh.

Emily was filled with a sudden rush of sympathy for their hostess; though she lived in palatial splendour, it was clear that she was lonely and bored. And who could blame her, living as she was in a foreign land, with only a crotchety, elderly husband for company?

"As soon as we learn anything, we will call on you to tell you," Emily assured her.

"Even if we don"t learn anything, we shall be calling soon," Mary added, as she swallowed down a second French fancy, "Your cook might be a thief, but he bakes a delicious fancy."

"Though your company is far preferential to the cakes," Emily elbowed her sister discreetly, and Mary gave a furious nod.

"Yes, of course it is," the duchess hastened to add, "The cakes merely accentuate your wonderful demeanour."

Given her way with words, there was a very real danger that Mary would soon to turn into their mother, Emily thought with a sigh. Luckily, Lady Albermay appeared to find their behaviour more amusing than insulting, and she gave a delighted laugh.

"Oh, I cannot claim to be more enjoyable than one of cook"s fancies," she smiled, "Though I do hope you call again."

The trio chatted for a few more minutes, then--given the hour--Mary and Emily were forced to take their leave. They departed with a cheery wave to the countess, and returned to St James" Square on a high.

They were in jubilant spirits when they arrived back in Northcott House, and the duke--hearing their giggles--came to meet them in the entrance hall.

"You"re in fine fettle," he commented, as he bestowed a kiss upon Mary"s cheek.

"What"s that you"ve got?" Mary queried, as she pulled away, with a nod to the sheaf of paper the duke held in his hand.

"It"s an invitation," he replied, darting an amused glance Emily"s way, "It arrived moments before you."

"Who is it from?" Mary asked, as she shrugged off her pelisse and handed it to the hovering footman.

Northcott cleared his throat and glanced again at Emily, who felt a strange flutter of anticipation in her belly. There was no one in London who would invite her anywhere, especially so formally. Unless...but, no, that was a ridiculous thought...

"It"s from Lord Chambers," Northcott answered, concealing a smile as Mary turned her head Emily"s way so quickly that it was a wonder it didn"t pop off her neck.

"He has invited us, or more specifically, Emily, to attend the theatre tomorrow evening. A comedy."

"A farce, more like," Emily muttered to herself, though no one paid her any heed. She was rather put-out that the marquess had given her no hint of his next move; she would now be forced to spend the evening listening to Mary predict a marriage proposal.

A proposal which would not materialise, for Emily suddenly realised that Lord Chambers must have issued the invitation because he had something urgent he wished to share with her about their investigation.

Yes, that was it, Emily told herself, as she absently watched Mary flutter about in a panic, that was the only reason he could have for such a bold move.

Yet, despite her assurances, Emily could not help but allow the memory of Lord Chambers" hand holding hers fill her mind. And for one, wistful moment, she wished that she was wrong.