Chapter Seven
SEVEN
I continue my interviews with the staff.
The one with the butler is short. Whatever happens with a maid is the housekeeper’s domain, especially when the housekeeper is his wife.
I do give him credit for not stepping on her toes.
He has no interactions with the maids and, from what I can determine, can’t even reliably tell them apart.
There are two other male staff members in the house—a footman and Lord Adler’s valet.
Those interviews are even shorter. They at least seem to know which maid Nellie was, but when I ask about tensions among the female staff, they’re baffled by the question.
It’s like asking Lord Adler himself. That is the women’s side of the house.
The other maid, Rose, is much happier to chat—and gossip—than Lily was.
Yes, Lady Adler favored Nellie, which was fine by her because it meant less work.
Rose isn’t as convinced that Lady Adler was grooming Nellie for her new lady’s maid.
She believes Lady Adler simply liked the girl and Miss Sullivan jumped to the erroneous conclusion that she was about to be replaced.
“Nellie was only sixteen,” Rose says, “and she had barely begun work in service. Miss Sullivan is rather dull, but she does her duties and gives Lady Adler no cause for complaint. Miss Sullivan is simply jealous and seeing threats where none exist.”
As for the blade?
“I do not think it was Miss Sullivan. In fact, I do not think it was intentional at all. Nellie agreed. She said the blade must have fallen in.”
A very sharp blade “falling into” a boot? I’m not sure how that happens. But I file away this version of events, in case I’m missing something.
Rose has a very different interpretation of why Nellie left, too.
“She met a boy,” she whispers. “A fine lad who was in love with her, and begged for her hand in marriage.”
Now she has my full attention. “Where did she meet him?”
“She was always slipping out after chores. It’s allowed, of course, but usually we’re all too tired to bother. Nellie often went out, and she would never tell where she’d been.”
“But she confessed to having a beau?”
“Oh no. She would never do that. It would have hurt poor Art’s feelings.”
“Art?”
“A local lad who does odd jobs on the property. He was smitten with Nellie. I loved to tease him, but Nellie said that was cruel. She was always sweet to him. Personally, I think that is more cruel.”
“She did not fancy Art?”
Rose laughs. “He is eleven years old.”
“Ah. So, to be clear, you do not know that Nellie had a beau. You only suspected it.”
“I know it,” she says firmly. “It was obvious.”
I try another tactic. “You knew she had a beau, though she never said as much to you.”
“Yes.”
“It would help very much if I could find him and confirm she left to be with him. Did anyone ever see him coming around for her?”
“Nellie was far too careful for that.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about him? Maybe something she let slip?”
“She let nothing slip.”
“But you know she had a beau because…”
“Because she went out so often. Why would she do that if she didn’t have a fellow?”
Art, the odd-jobs boy, is outside helping the gardener, and when I ask him to chat, he doesn’t say a word, just sets down his spade and comes over as he tidies sandy hair and adjusts his cap.
“It is about Nellie,” I say.
“You are looking for her. You and Dr. Gray. The consulting detective.”
“Er…”
He frowns. “Mr. Loomis called him that. Is Dr. Gray not a detective?”
“He is, and yes, he consults.”
“So a consulting detective.”
Damn it, I am never going to stop that title from spreading.
“Yes,” I say. “As for Nellie—”
“They say Madame Paix contacted her spirit.”
His face gives nothing away, but anguish shines in his bright blue eyes.
“Madame Paix believes she did,” I say carefully. “But the important thing is that it led to Lady Adler retaining Dr. Gray to find Nellie.”
“You think she is still alive.” His words are precise, and that plus his accent marks him as a boy with a good education, which belies his job and oft-mended clothing.
“I certainly hope so,” I say. “Now, may I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course.”
I question Art, but the only thing he can add is some color to the portrait of Nellie Carmichael. He was clearly infatuated, and part of that was because she was a pretty young woman, but mostly because she was kind and quick-minded.
We chat for a few minutes, and then I head inside to continue my interviews. I end up cutting short the one with the parlormaid, Polly, after she stands there, gaze down, whispering that she knows nothing. She says Nellie was nice to her, but all the staff are nice to her.
When I ask whether Miss Sullivan got on with Nellie, she gives me a blank look, as if the question never occurred to her. Nellie was kind to all and everyone liked her and Polly is sorry she is gone and hopes she is all right. Is there more here? My instinct says not to push. Yet.
Mrs. Loomis finally has time for me then. I believe she had time earlier—she’s just making it clear that she’s calling the shots in this interview, which makes me fear another gorgon, like our own housekeeper. Instead, she’s sweet but efficient, happy to talk but clear that she has work to do.
Unlike the maids, Mrs. Loomis seems genuinely worried about Nellie.
“I never liked this story about her leaving,” she confesses. “I did not think she would waltz off in the night. If I woke up and found Rose gone, I would only roll my eyes and hope it meant that beau of hers made her an honest woman.”
“Nellie is different?”
“She is.”
“Does she have a beau?”
“No.”
“Someone I interviewed seemed to think she did.”
An exasperated look. “Rose. That girl has hearts in her eyes. There was no beau.”
“I heard Nellie often left in the evenings. Not sneaking out, but leaving after her chores.”
“Yes, but that is allowed. She was always back by lights-out at ten.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“I did not ask. If she wished us to know, she would say so. Is that why Rose claims she had a beau?” She shakes her head. “That girl.”
I ask about Sully, but Mrs. Loomis shuts down, her lips pressed in a firm line.
“There are always squabbles and jealousies,” she says. “No one brought them to me. If they had, I would have acted.”
“Lady Adler seems to think Miss Sullivan also believed Nellie left with a beau.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Someone mentioned a blade? In Nellie’s boot?”
She hesitates. Seconds pass, and her expression says she does not want to talk about this. Housekeepers pride themselves on running a tight ship, and Mrs. Loomis seems to take this incident very personally. It’s a private household matter she would have preferred stay private.
I say gently, “I am trying to determine whether Nellie might have come to harm. That is the only incident that concerns me.”
“It was not connected to whatever happened to her. I do fear she’s come to harm, but my fear is that she slipped out for some innocent purpose and met danger out there. Not in here.”
I consider mentioning the fact that all Nellie’s belongings were gone, but I decide against it. Again, some questions are better postponed for when I have more information.
“The blade, though…”
“A cruel prank,” she blurts. “I do not think anyone meant to hurt her. I believe it was intended as a warning. The person responsible expected Nellie would put her foot in, feel the blade, and pull it out and then realize how badly she could have been injured.”
“Do you think Miss Sullivan did it?”
Her lips press together. “I would prefer not to engage in idle conjecture. I have no proof, and if she was responsible, then it was not intended to harm Nellie. When Nellie was hurt, Miss Sullivan was genuinely horrified.”
The person I really need to talk to now is Sully.
Except she’s in Glasgow on a family emergency.
A legitimate emergency? Well, it seems no one dug all that deep into the excuse.
That’s not callous disinterest. It’s respect.
Lady Adler’s maid said she had an emergency, a younger sister falling ill, and Lady Adler didn’t question whether she deserved time off. She sent her on her way.
That does, however, make things more difficult for me. If Nellie fled, Sully seems to have been the one who scared her off. Clearly I need to talk to the young woman rather than just forming opinions based on second-person accounts.
If Sully did scare Nellie off, there’s more to this story than I’m getting. A blade in a boot is bad enough. But would it really frighten a young woman who seems determined to do her best at this job? A young woman who was already reaping the rewards through her employer’s obvious favor?
I don’t like any of this. It seemed a simple matter of a girl deciding she didn’t care for a job and being too young and inexperienced to offer appropriate notice. But the more I see Nellie through the eyes of others, the more I seriously doubt that was the case.
All her belongings are gone, which suggests premeditated flight.
Yet she forgot a necklace that likely has either real or sentimental value. That could mean hasty flight—forgetting the jewelry in her panic. Or it could mean someone only made it look as if she took her things.
I’ve shown the necklace to both maids and the housekeeper. No one has seen it before. I’m taking it into where Isla and Lady Adler are when I’m hailed by an unexpected—but definitely not unwelcome—voice.
“Mallory,” Gray says from behind me, and I turn, smiling, opening my mouth to greet him … Then I see his grim expression.
“Is everything all right?” I say as I hurry over.
“I have come to fetch you. The police have gone to recover…” He glances around, making sure we are alone. “A body. The body of a young woman has been found.”