Chapter Sixteen
As everyone else dispersed to go about their day, Selena followed Dr. Scott to the morning room, where he began making up a plate for the breakfast that they had missed.
Selena grabbed her own plate, made a quick sandwich with two pieces of bread and a slice of ham, and whispered to him, “Meet me in the east schoolroom in ten minutes.” At his nod, she slipped from the room.
She was waiting when he arrived and closed the door behind him. “I’ve been anxious to talk to you.”
“So have I.” His eyes were bright and alive with speculation. “This new information about what happened at the hotel that summer may put a new light on things.”
“It may have.” She beckoned him to the cushioned window seat and sat down beside him.
“If Mrs. Whitlock was poisoned … and if Jack Clarke was pushed down the stairs … it might be just as we’ve theorized—that it’s about Mr. Clarke’s hidden money.
On the other hand, it may have nothing at all to do with the money. ”
“My thoughts exactly.” He leaned forward. “The porter who was convicted of theft and died in prison—he had a sister and a brother.”
“Maisie and Joe Webster.”
“Mrs. Hillman said that Clive Webster was very close to his siblings.”
Excitement rose in Selena’s chest. “If they thought their brother was innocent, they may have been distraught by his death.”
“Yes! Something tells me that Mrs. Whitlock stole those jewels that summer and let that poor boy pay for it.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” Selena stood up and paced back and forth before the window seat. “What if the brother and sister decided to get revenge? They plotted to kill every person who had been instrumental in their brother’s arrest and conviction?”
“They started with Mrs. Goodwin and moved on to Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Whitlock,” he shot back.
“If we’re right, it has to be a member of the house party—or one of the servants. Someone who has been at Darkmoor Park at least since December 23rd and is here under an assumed name.”
“How old do you think Maisie and Joe Webster would be now?”
Selena paused to think. “The thefts took place four years ago. Mrs. Hillman said the sister was an under chambermaid who kept out of sight.”
“Let’s presume that the sister-chambermaid was between fifteen and twenty years old at the time. That would make her anywhere from nineteen to twenty-four today.”
“We have several maids about that age, but all of them have worked at Darkmoor Park more than four years … except Gladys. She’s only been here a few months.”
Dr. Scott’s brows arched. “If she’s Maisie Webster, she could have taken this position with a specific goal in mind. What about the brother?”
“Mrs. Hillman didn’t say much about him. Just that he was a footman.” Selena took a breath. “Wait, we have a temporary footman—Sam. Wells hired him just for the holidays. He’s the only new male employee whom I know of.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Sounds like it’s time to have a chat with Gladys and Sam. But we can’t stop there. We have the guests to consider. Miss Thompson is the right age to be Maisie Webster.”
Selena shook her head. “No, it can’t be her.”
“Can’t be? Or you don’t want it to be?”
She hesitated. “The latter, I suppose. I really like Miss Thompson.”
His eyes dimmed. “Sometimes, the people we trust the most are the ones who are most likely to stab us in the back.”
Selena recalled him saying something similar a few days ago. “I take it you had a bad experience with someone you’d trusted?”
“You could say that.” His tone was bitter.
“I’m so sorry.” Her heart went out to him. “May I ask what happened?”
“I’d rather not discuss it. It’s in the past. Let’s get back on topic. Didn’t Mrs. Whitlock say that Miss Thompson was a new hire?”
“She did.” Selena’s spirits fell as she considered that. She really wanted the young lady to be innocent. “I suppose Miss Thompson could be Maisie Webster. Apparently, she had only been serving as Mrs. Whitlock’s companion for a few months.”
“She may have deliberately sought a position in that lady’s household with the intent to kill her.”
She sat back down beside him. “If so, why did she wait three months to kill her, until after she’d arrived at Darkmoor Park?”
He considered that. “Perhaps she changed her plans when the invitation to this holiday house party came in the post. Maisie—now going as Miss Thompson—may have decided that the party would be the ideal opportunity to dispatch some of the other people who had doomed her brother to prison and death.”
“So, she waited and came along.” Selena tilted her head. “If that’s true, did she kill Mrs. Goodwin at the hotel as well?”
“She may have. The woman apparently died from an overdose of laudanum in her tea, similar to the way Mrs. Whitlock died. Remember, Maisie was an under chambermaid at the Worthing Seaside Hotel. All these years, she may have despised Mrs. Goodwin for turning in her brother Clive.”
Selena inhaled sharply. “I just remembered. Miss Thompson said she’d started out as a chambermaid. And she mentioned a brother.”
“Well, there you have it.”
“For all we know, Miss Thompson—if she’s Maisie—may have still been working at the hotel three months ago when Mrs. Goodwin died.”
Dr. Scott ran a hand through his hair. “Or, she may have known the hotel so well that she was able to sneak in unseen, poison Mrs. Goodwin’s tea, and then dash off to take a position as Mrs. Whitlock’s companion.”
“The timing fits.” Selena hated to admit it, but the whole thing was possible. “Miss Thompson freely admitted that she disliked Mrs. Whitlock. The reason for that dislike could go far deeper than her dissatisfaction with the way that woman treated her.”
“It could, indeed.” It was Dr. Scott’s turn to stand up and pace. “If so, she’s an excellent actress. I truly believed that Miss Thompson was shocked and horrified when she found Mrs. Whitlock dead in her bed this morning.”
“So did I. And I felt sorry for her, when she shed tears about being newly unemployed.”
“Well. She is innocent until proven guilty,” Dr. Scott reminded Selena as he paced.
“What about our other guest, Miss Goodwin? She’s the right age, too. When the subject of Clive Webster’s arrest and conviction came up, Miss Goodwin seemed oddly upset about an incident that had occurred four years ago to an employee at the hotel.”
The doctor hesitated. “How could she be Maisie Webster? She’s Mrs. Goodwin’s daughter.”
“Is she?” Selena asked skeptically.
“What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Hillman had never met Mrs. Goodwin’s daughter. No one in the group had. The young lady was away on holiday with friends the summer they all met at the hotel. In fact, the night Miss Goodwin arrived, Mrs. Hillman mentioned that she looks nothing like her mother and must take after her father.”
“So, you’re saying anyone could show up here and pretend to be Miss Goodwin, and no one would be the wiser?” Dr. Scott mused.
“Yes. Think about it. If a few months ago, Maisie was still working at the hotel, perhaps in a more elevated position now, as parlor maid, she would have had access to Mrs. Goodwin’s post.”
“Her post?” Dr. Scott whirled to face her. “Ah. I see where you’re going with this. Maisie might have intercepted the invitation that Mrs. Goodwin received from Mrs. Hillman.”
“And then, she could have written to Mrs. Hillman, pretending to be Mrs. Goodwin’s daughter, to explain that poor Mrs. Goodwin had died.”
“Maybe,” he theorized, “the woman already was dead. Or maybe the invitation prompted Maisie to get rid of Mrs. Goodwin by putting laudanum in her tea.”
Selena raised a finger. “The real Miss Goodwin may have known nothing about Mrs. Hillman’s invitation to Darkmoor Park.”
“Maisie could have continued to intercept the mail and correspond with Mrs. Hillman, seeing this holiday party as the ideal opportunity to exact her revenge.”
Dr. Scott ground to a halt a just a foot away from her. “This all presumes that Maisie Webster knows how to read and can write well enough to sound like the daughter of a hotel proprietor.”
Selena paused to reflect. “We don’t know what kind of education the real Miss Goodwin had. But Maisie had years to plot her revenge. She might have gotten help writing the letters. Or she could have spent that time bettering herself and learning to write and speak well.”
“It’s possible.”
Another thought occurred to Selena and her heart jumped. “There were a couple of instances over the past few days when Miss Goodwin seemed to have forgotten that she was a hotel manager.”
“If she really is Miss Goodwin,” Dr. Scott pointed out, “that could simply be because she is new in the role and still grieving the loss of her mother.”
“True. But if she’s Maisie Webster, it could have been her mask slipping. After all, she refused to play the pianoforte on Christmas Eve.”
His brow wrinkled. “How does that signify?”
“All well-bred young ladies in the upper and middle classes are expected to learn to play the pianoforte. That’s why we include music in our school curriculum.
Piano playing is seen as a key accomplishment, even for the daughters of tradespeople, to demonstrate their refinement to help secure a good marriage.
Whereas a chambermaid would rarely have the means or the opportunity to learn to play. ”
“I see.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A fair point, but not conclusive. If she is the real Miss Goodwin, even if she did learn to play, she might not consider herself an accomplished musician.”
“True. But—oh! If only we could write to the Worthing Seaside Hotel and see if Miss Goodwin is there right now. But with this storm, that’s impossible. And even after the weather clears, who knows how long it would take to hear back?”
Dr. Scott squinted at her. “If the woman really is Maisie Webster, how does Mr. Davis play into this?”
Selena considered that. “Mr. Davis is the right age to have been a footman four years ago. And now that I think of it, he and Miss Goodwin have the same dark hair, and they do resemble each other.”
He gave a little gasp. “They could be brother and sister, posing as an engaged couple.”
“And doing a fine job of it, for I never suspected a thing.” Selena steepled her fingertips as the notion sunk in. “I wonder what Mr. Davis does for a living? I never thought to ask.” She crossed to the teacher’s desk and retrieved paper and a pen.
Dr. Scott chuckled. “Are you going to write this down?”
“I am.” Selena sat and jotted a few words.
ARE THEY MAISIE OR JOE WEBSTER? HERE TO SEEK REVENGE?
· Gladys
· Sam
· Miss Thompson
· Miss Goodwin
· Mr. Davis
She handed the list to Dr. Scott, who reviewed it in silence. At last, he said, “You must realize, we may be completely wrong about this.”
“We may be,” she acknowledged.
“This entire Webster siblings plot might be a figment of our imaginations. The deaths of Mrs. Goodwin, Jack Clarke, and Mrs. Whitlock may very well have all been accidents. Or, with regard to the last two at least, related only to the stolen money.”
“I realize that. But the Webster siblings plot, as you put it—it’s possible, isn’t it?”
“It is. I admit, I’m intrigued. And I want to know if those three people were murdered or not.”
“If so, the villain might not be finished.” Worried, Selena darted her eyes towards the doctor. “Colonel Blackwood also told the police that Clive Webster had stolen from him.”
Dr. Scott’s mouth opened slightly. “I’d forgotten that. And Mrs. Hillman was there as well.”
“But Mrs. Hillman said that she spoke in the boy’s defense.”
“Right, right. So, if Maisie and Joe Webster are aware of that and are truly here seeking revenge …”
“The colonel might be next on their list.”
“Good lord.” The doctor clasped his hands and stared at the floor. “This could be even more dire than I’d thought.”
“I know.”
He glanced out the window, beyond which snow still sifted down in a vast expanse of white.
“Under normal circumstances, we’d call in your parish constable.
But he’s not here, and it’ll be days before we can go anywhere.
It looks like, once again, it’s our responsibility to investigate this.
Not only to find out the truth, but to protect Colonel Blackwood from becoming the potential next victim. ”
“How shall we go about this?”
He flapped the list in his hand. “Let’s start asking questions, learn everything we can about the people on this list.”
“It’s the perfect day to do that. Everyone is pursuing their own interests in different parts of the house. If one of them is Maisie or Joe Webster, maybe they’ll admit something that gives them away.”
“One can only hope.”
Selena paused. “Wait, what about the threatening notes? Could one of the Webster siblings be responsible?”
“Of course. Even if they’re here for revenge, they might want that cash as well—and they wouldn’t want us to find it first.”
“The footmen were present on Christmas Eve when we discussed Mr. Clarke’s missing money!” Selena recalled suddenly. “And gossip spreads like wildfire downstairs.”
He nodded, and his expression turned even more serious.
“To recap the situation to date: did someone kill one or all of those people? Did they write the threatening notes? And what happened to Mr. Clarke’s money?
Recovering that money was our first mission and I don’t want to lose sight of that—it’s the only one I know in my gut to be real. ”
“Of course! We have to keep looking for the money. Whoever wrote those notes may be out there as we speak, checking every nook and cranny for that five thousand pounds.”
“For all we know, they may have already found it.”
“Let’s hope not.” Selena’s mouth pulled downward. “Because I’m sure they, whoever they are, mean to keep it for themselves.”
“I say, we search quietly and inconspicuously.”
“Agreed.” Selena stood. “By the way, we’re in the east schoolroom—one of the places Mr. Clarke was known to have visited on his last afternoon. Shall we take a look around for a dragon?”
They spent the next fifteen minutes searching the chamber, glancing inside all the students’ desks, every drawer in the teacher’s desk, and every storage cupboard. They found nothing out of the ordinary.
“Mr. Clarke didn’t hide that money here,” Dr. Scott proclaimed when their examinations had come to an end.
“It may be difficult to explore any further today,” Selena noted. “The other guests could be anywhere in the house.”
Dr. Scott nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Let’s put the treasure hunt on hold for the present and go do some discreet questioning.”
Selena raised a hand. “First—although we agreed not to say anything to anyone about the hidden money, I think we should tell Mrs. Hillman and Colonel Blackwood about the Websters. If there’s even the tiniest chance that the colonel could be in danger …”
Dr. Scott’s expression turned grave. “We need to warn them.”
“And as much as I hate to do it,” Selena added as they left the room, “I ought to tell her who stole her brooch.”