Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

QUESTIONING THE STAFF

A FTER THAT TENSE MEETING in Lord Needham’s study, we proceeded to the dining room where our luncheon was being served. Eleanor’s cousins, as well as Lord Cumberforth, were all present. Having met them before, I knew what to expect.

I quickly found my name card, located between Alistair, one of Eleanor’s cousins, and Lord Cumberforth. No doubt Eleanor had chosen that seating arrangement to keep her female cousins from vexing her fiancé. I, on the other hand, would say nothing to irritate him. It would not be a difficult thing to accomplish.

As the son of a marquis, Lord Cumberforth could have been a vain, pompous sort of man, especially given his father's arrogance. But the gentleman was kind and unassuming. And most importantly, clearly in love with Eleanor evidenced by the warmth in his gaze whenever it lighted on her. A sentiment she fully reciprocated.

Eleanor, the very definition of an English rose with her dark ringlets and fair complexion, had received many offers of marriage since her debut. But she’d held out for a love match. Clearly, she’d found it in him. Striking him off my list of suspects, I vowed to do whatever was needed to ensure she got her heart’s desire.

Unfortunately, the fond glances exchanged between Eleanor and Cumberforth did not go unnoticed by Eleanor’s cousin, Miss Lavinia Needham. Similar in coloring to Eleanor’s she was known for her penchant for gossip. “A little birdie told me to expect an announcement this weekend,” she hinted with a smirk. “Care to share what that could be, Eleanor?”

“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” Eleanor asserted, tearing her smitten gaze away from her fiancé.

Lavinia pruned her lips. “Oh?” That simple word communicated pure skepticism. She didn’t believe Eleanor for a moment.

“Stop teasing Eleanor,” her brother Alastair said in a pleasant voice. “She’s not going to reveal anything. At least not before it’s time.” He winked at Eleanor.

I did not wonder why he wished to remain in Eleanor’s and, by extension, her father’s good graces. Needham had no male issue, which meant one day Alistair would inherit the Needham title and estate. He was easygoing and affable, though not particularly inclined toward serious conversation. As he enjoyed a passion for horses and outdoor sports, he preferred the stables and the playing fields. Still, he was more than happy to attend family events, especially when they were held at Needham Hall.

“Honestly, Lavinia. What a busybody you are,” Miss Felicity Needham, Eleanor’s other female cousin, chided. The daughter of Lord Needham’s youngest brother, she neither enjoyed Eleanor’s beauty nor Lavinia’s liveliness. As she stood to inherit nothing, her goal was to marry and marry well, something she’d pursued since her debut. Much as she tried, she’d found that goal difficult to accomplish. And at twenty-eight years of age, she was growing desperate. “I find it downright rude to inquire about someone’s marriage plans. Especially, when they may never come to pass.” Turning to the duke who was seated next to her, she asked, “Don’t you agree, Your Grace?”

It was no wonder she was seeking favor with Steele. She probably thought of him as a prospect, given he was a widower. I knew nothing about the duke’s views on walking down the aisle once more. But since he hadn’t done so for close to ten years after his wife’s death, it was logical to assume he was not in the market for a spouse. But then again, what did I know?

“I find it best to keep my opinions to myself, Miss Needham,” Steele said. A response that could be taken in many ways. But then, he was known for his circumspect remarks.

Felicity must have decided he’d agreed with her as she let out a cackling laugh. “Your Grace, how very marvelous you joined us for the Christmas Ball festivities. I fully intend to ensure you enjoy yourself.”

“A noble sentiment,” Steele said.

The remainder of the luncheon continued pleasantly enough. Alistair proved to be an amusing conversationalist, as long as he was allowed to discuss his beloved horseflesh. As for Cumberforth, I only exchanged brief remarks with him as his eyes and ears were all for Eleanor.

At the end of the meal, Eleanor announced she’d planned an outing for this afternoon—a trip to the woods to fetch the Yule log for the cavernous fireplace in the hall. The duke excused himself from the activity as there was something he needed to attend to. I claimed I needed to lie down as a migraine was making itself felt.

Amidst a chorus of “Hope you feel better,” and “Get your rest,” I made my exit alongside the duke. He was solicitous enough to offer his arm while we climbed the stairs before we headed to our respective bedchambers. We’d previously decided we’d meet in the study once the Yule log party departed Needham Hall.

I didn’t have long to wait. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Eleanor’s maid, Martha, stood on the other side. “They’ve gone, milady.”

“Thank you, Martha.”

The house was a maze of narrow hallways, dark wooden paneling, and plush carpets—familiar and yet suddenly unfamiliar in the light of what had occurred. There was no need to rush. I did, however, as I didn’t want to keep the duke waiting. He’d made it perfectly clear he thought me a lightweight. My pride refused to confirm that opinion by being late. I arrived at the study to find the duke already there, his back to the fireplace.

Curtsying, I said, “Your Grace, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all.” He inclined his head. “I arrived but a minute ago.”

I had to admit he made an imposing figure in his perfectly tailored garments. There was nothing of the dandy about him, however. More than likely, he simply appreciated a well-cut cloth. Tall and broad-shouldered with a streak of white in his black hair—a family trait I’d heard—he commanded the room in a way that did not seem possible. And yet he did. As always, he was dressed in unrelenting black. According to rumors, it signified mourning for his wife, who’d died during childbirth barely a year into their marriage.

“First things first,” he began briskly, his hands clasped behind his back. “We need to establish the timeline. When did Lady Eleanor first realize the necklace was stolen?”

After taking a seat on the settee closest to the fireplace, I replied, “This morning. She opened her jewelry box to make certain the necklace was there, only to find it gone.”

The duke nodded thoughtfully. “Who knew where the necklace was kept?”

“Her maid,” I answered. “The necklace is usually kept in Lord Needham’s safe here in his study, but yesterday she asked her maid to fetch it. She wanted to make sure the clasp was secure, and the stones were polished. And she wanted to see how it looked with her ball gown.”

“Who was in the house at the time?” The duke’s gaze was piercing, his expression unyielding.

I recited the list Eleanor and I had pieced together. “All the servants, naturally. Lady Eleanor’s cousins. Lord Cumberforth arrived shortly after them. His parents are expected to arrive tomorrow.”

“Did the cousins see the necklace?”

I hesitated. “Her female cousins did. She was wearing it when they came into her room. It’s possible they told their brothers about it. They’re a close-knit family.”

“A dangerous thing, flaunting such a valuable piece,” he muttered.

I rushed to her defense. “She wasn’t flaunting it. They showed up unannounced.”

“Ummm.” That supercilious brow of his took a hike. “Regardless, we’ll need to follow up on that. But first I need to inspect Lady Eleanor’s bedchamber. We have to determine if there was any sign of forced entry or if the thief entered by more subtle means.”

I inclined my head in agreement. “Yes, of course. Martha, her maid, is waiting there for us.” Eleanor had arranged it during our previous discussion.

Lost in thought, I held my silence while we climbed the stairs and proceeded to Eleanor’s bedchamber. Martha was expecting us as we barely had to knock before she thrust open the door. “Your Grace, milady,” After a brief curtsy, she moved aside.

Once inside Eleanor’s room, the duke and I surveyed the surroundings with keen eyes. It was a well-appointed space—floral wallpaper, lace curtains, and a delicate four-poster bed covered in an embroidered counterpane. Lady Eleanor’s jewelry box sat innocently upon her vanity, and the wardrobe doors stood ajar.

“Was the window open at any time from the moment you last saw the necklace until Lady Eleanor discovered it was gone?” the duke asked sharply, stepping toward it.

Martha shook her head. “No, your Grace. Lady Eleanor never opens it during the colder months. It was locked, just as it is now.”

The duke’s fingers tested the latch, and he nodded. “No sign of tampering. Whoever stole the necklace did not come in this way.”

“Which leaves the door,” I said.

Martha’s expression grew troubled. “Lady Eleanor doesn’t lock her door during the day. Only at nighttime.”

“No forced entry, then,” the duke said quietly. “The thief could have come in as easily as opening the door.”

“Who knew that the necklace was in this room last night?” I asked Martha, my voice gentle.

“Miss Lavinia and Miss Felicity. They saw it when they arrived.” Her eyes darted nervously toward the door as if the thief might be listening even now.

The duke turned to me with a wrinkle in his brow. “The cousins. Are they close to their brothers?”

“They are.”

“That means we cannot rule out the possibility that the men knew about it as well.” He turned to Martha, “I need to ask you a few questions. Does Lady Eleanor have a sitting room?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

We followed her to the graciously appointed room which consisted of a seating arrangement, a desk, and several small tables. Just as we entered, the small carriage clock on the mantle over the fireplace chimed the two o’clock hour.

“Please take a seat, Martha,” I said, taking the lead. The poor thing was pale as could be.

“Thank you, milady,” she said, barely perching on the edge of the chair she chose.

The duke and I had previously decided I would interrogate the female staff and Eleanor’s female cousins. He would question the men. So I led off with the statement that was the most natural. “As you know we’re investigating the missing necklace.”

“Yes, milady.” Terror was evident in her eyes.

“You brought it to Lady Eleanor’s room yesterday, correct?”

She nodded. “Just as my lady asked.”

“Did you tell anyone that you had done so?” I pressed.

“No, I swear it,” Martha said earnestly, her hands clenched tightly on her lap. “I didn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. I only brought it to Lady Eleanor.”

“What happened after you delivered it? Please be as specific as you can.”

She seemed to relax a little as she searched her memory. “Lady Eleanor wanted to check the necklace to make sure the clasp was secure, which she did. And then she wanted to see how it looked with her ball gown. Just as I had placed it around her neck, her cousins arrived.”

“Miss Lavinia and Miss Felicity?”

“Yes.”

I believed her. Her sincerity was undeniable, and I could see the fear in her eyes—the kind that comes from someone who knows she’s innocent yet fears she may not be believed. But I couldn’t afford to trust instincts alone. “Did the cousins say anything about the necklace?”

“Oh, yes, milady. They oohed and aahed about it. When they said they wanted to hold it in their hands, Lady Eleanor asked me to unclasp it and give it to them. After a few minutes, milady asked me to put it back in the jewelry box.”

“Did Miss Lavinia and Miss Felicity see the box?”

“Oh, yes. They couldn’t have missed it.”

“Did you return the box to its usual place?”

“Yes, Miss. In Lady Eleanor’s vanity.”

“Did they see you put it there?”

“My back was turned to them, so I couldn’t say.”

“But they could see you from where they were standing.”

She breathed an easy sigh. She must have figured out where I was headed with my questions. In a firmer voice, she said, “Yes, milady. They could.”

“You’re doing very well, Martha. Now if we could move on to other questions. Is there any chance someone saw you deliver the necklace?” I asked. “Did you encounter anyone on the way?”

Martha’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head slowly. “No, my lady. The hallways were quiet. I took care to be discreet.”

The duke, who had been watching the exchange in silence, spoke up. “Where was the rest of the staff?”

“Well, it was time for our tea, Your Grace, so they were in the staff dining room, close to the kitchen.”

“All of them?” the duke asked.

“I believe so.”

“But you couldn’t swear to it.”

“No, Your Grace. After I stored the jewelry box in Lady Eleanor’s vanity, milady released me so I could have my tea as well. I was very excited about the ball. That was all everyone could talk about.”

“Who was there?”

“Well, Cook, of course, the housekeeper, the butler.” She continued to enumerate all the people who’d been in the staff dining room. While she did so, I jotted down the names on the notebook I always carry with me which I use to write my thoughts. In this instance, it would provide a record of everything surrounding this investigation.

“Is that it?” Steele asked when she was finished.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You’ve done a fine job, Martha,” I said. “Thank you. That will be all.”

“Ta, milady.” She curtsied again before leaving us.

I turned to the duke once she was gone. “She’s telling the truth.”

“She may be,” he replied, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of interviews. While I spoke to the female servants in the housekeeper’s room, Steele questioned the men in the butler’s pantry.

I faced an array of anxious maids, laundry women, kitchen staff, and everything in between. They all had stories—some conflicting, some vague, and some suspiciously rehearsed. But it all added up to the same conclusion. All of them had been too busy with their chores to wander into Eleanor’s room and steal the necklace. And if they had, their absence would have been noted.

By the time I was finished, my head was spinning. It was a relief to finally step out of the stuffy room and breathe the cooler evening air filtering through the hallways. I made my way to my room so I could write a report of what I’d heard before dressing for supper.

I couldn’t very well claim yet another headache, so I spent the time after the evening meal socializing with the other guests. The time seemed to crawl by. But finally, around eleven, Eleanor suggested we seek our beds as she had much planned for the next day.

When I finally met the duke in the study, I was drooping with fatigue. It was no wonder as I’d had an early start this morning, followed by a full day. After a brief discussion, the duke suggested I read the report I’d brought. I didn’t get far before I was stumbling through it, slurring my words.

It didn’t take long for the duke to stop me. “Lady Rosalynd?”

I turned bleary eyes to him. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“You seem . . . exhausted.” His voice seemed to accuse more than care.

So, of course, my temper got the better of me. “I’ve been up since dawn, Your Grace. I arrived at Needham Hall looking forward to days of holiday merriment, only to become embroiled in an investigation. I now find myself consoling Eleanor, questioning staff, putting up with obnoxious cousins. And if all that were not enough, I’m now being censured by an overbearing duke.”

That brow of his took a hike. “I haven’t been dressed down that forcefully since my school days.”

Heavens! What had I done? I’d insulted a duke! “I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Found me overbearing?” His haughty tone was in full force. “Goes along with your titian tresses, I suppose. Redheads are famous for their fiery temperament.”

Tempted as I was to retort in kind, I did not. Lashing out would not do. It would only prove his point. “I’m a very even-keeled person.”

He sniffed. “All evidence to the contrary.”

Was he trying to set me off again? What a horrid man!

“Well” —he shrugged— “as you are making no sense, let us adjourn. We can reconvene in the morning after we’ve broken our fast. Say ten o’clock?”

I came to my feet and curtsied. “Of course, Your Grace. Good night.”

He stretched out his arm toward me. “Leave your report. I’d like to read it before heading off to bed.”

As I gave it to him, he bowed over my hand. Gazing into my eyes, he said in the smoothest tone I’d heard from him, “Good night, Lady Rosalynd. I wish you a restful sleep.”

There would be little chance of that. My ‘fiery’ temperament would not allow it.