Chapter Twenty-One #2
What other secrets, Selena speculated, might all these people have been keeping?
When Miss Goodwin and Mr. Davis exchanged a few whispered words, Selena wondered how to characterize the affection that they displayed.
Were they truly a young, betrothed couple?
Or were they Maisie and Joe Webster, a sister and brother?
When Miss Thompson won a round and gleefully collected her counters, Selena thought about the hidden money.
Did Miss Thompson crave that fortune so she could open a flower shop?
Had she written the threatening notes? Could she be Maisie?
Had she had anything to do with her employer’s death?
Selena hoped not. Of all the potential subjects, she would be so disappointed if it turned out that Miss Thompson were culpable for such heinous deeds.
What about the servants? She still hadn’t had a chance to speak to Sam or Gladys.
Selena’s mind buzzed with so many questions, she couldn’t recall which cards had been played or which suit was trump and found it difficult to make any intelligent bids.
She was relieved when the game ended, and she was at last able to retire for the night.
When Selena reached her chamber, the door was standing open. Her pulse skittered. From within, there was a thumping sound. Someone was in her room.
Her stomach clenched as she cautiously glanced around the doorjamb.
Gladys was inside, building up the fire.
Selena’s heart skittered. Who was Gladys, really?
All Selena knew was that the young woman had been hired a few months ago.
Could Gladys be Maisie Webster, a former chambermaid at the Worthing Seaside Hotel?
Here was the perfect opportunity to question her. Selena entered her room. “Gladys.”
The maid started and dropped the piece of firewood in her hands. “Miss Taylor.”
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” Selena began unbuttoning her velvet jacket.
“Oh, don’t mind me, miss. I startle easily.” Gladys’s expression was reserved as she returned to her duties.
“I know we’ve put you to a lot of extra trouble this past week, and I wanted to thank you for doing such excellent work.”
“It’s my job, miss.”
Selena hung her jacket in the closet. “I hope we haven’t tired you out too much.”
“No, miss.” Gladys stacked new wood in the hearth. “I just feel bad about all that’s happened. First that gentleman dying, and then that old woman who passed away after stealing Mrs. Hillman’s brooch.”
Selena froze inwardly. She hadn’t discussed that theft with anyone other than Dr. Scott and Mrs. Hillman, who had vowed to keep it quiet. “Where did you hear that? About the brooch?”
Gladys shrugged. “I think someone mentioned it downstairs.”
It was a reminder that at a manor house like Darkmoor Park, the servants often knew more about what was going on than the other residents.
Selena saw it as an opportunity to place her first test. “Mrs. Hillman wants to honor her friend’s memory, and she’d prefer that you didn’t discuss that matter with anyone else. ”
“Yes, miss.”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind what, miss?”
Selena focused on the maid’s face. “Keeping a secret.”
Gladys blinked at that. “I think everyone has secrets, don’t you? At least, that’s what my mother always used to say.”
“My mother had favorite sayings, too. She used to quote the Buddha who said, ‘Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.’”
Gladys’s forehead creased, and she turned her gaze to the hearth. “If you say so, miss.”
Selena wondered if the maid had ever even heard of the Buddha. She sat down at her dressing table and removed the pins from her hair. “Gladys, how long have you been at Darkmoor Park?”
“Three months, miss.” Gladys grabbed a brush and dustpan from her bucket and began sweeping up ash by the hearth.
Mrs. Goodwin died three months ago. “Where did you learn your exemplary skills? Mrs. Middleton said you worked at a hotel?”
“A hotel?” Gladys paused, her brows quirking. “She must have me muddled with someone else. I never worked in a hotel.”
“No?” Selena tried to hide her disappointment. “Where did you work before coming to Darkmoor Park?”
“For a family in Nottinghamshire. I was there eight years, from under chambermaid to parlor maid, but they moved to Boston, and I didn’t wish to go with them.”
Boston? A convenient explanation, Selena thought, if she is hiding her true identity. A reference letter could be forged, and it would be difficult to check up on Gladys’s history if her former employer had left for America. “Did you come from a big family?”
“No, miss. I just have one brother.”
She has a brother. “Where were you and your brother raised, may I ask?”
“Nottinghamshire.”
Selena ran her hairbrush through her long, blonde locks. “I’ve heard that Nottinghamshire is a beautiful county. But if you had to choose, which would you say has the finest beaches, Nottinghamshire or West Sussex?”
A laugh escaped Gladys’s throat. “Nottinghamshire is landlocked, miss. There are no beaches.”
Selena brought a hand to her face, as if in chastisement for her mistake. “Oh! Silly me. Of course you’re right.”
“In any case, I wouldn’t know about beaches. I’ve never even seen the sea.”
Was that just a clever remark, Selena wondered, to divert any connection to Maisie Webster? Selena tried another tactic. “I don’t know why I was thinking about West Sussex. I supposed it’s because of the story I heard.”
“What story?” Gladys asked.
Selena continued brushing her hair. “It was about a girl in West Sussex whose brother was imprisoned for a crime he hadn’t committed. The poor lad died in prison.”
Gladys paused, her cleaning tools in midair. “What a sad story, miss.”
“I felt bad for the boy who died, but also for the sister who must surely mourn him.” Selena dared a glance at Gladys, who was staring down at her hands.
“I’ve often thought,” Selena went on, “I would not blame the young woman if she were to be furious with the people who had contributed to her brother’s unfair conviction. ”
Gladys’s features tightened. “I wouldn’t blame her, either, miss.
” She stood abruptly and emptied the ash from her dustpan into the bucket, her motions so rapid and disjointed that they caused a cloud of dust to billow in the air.
“If you’ll excuse me, I must get on with my work.
” She curtsied, gathered her buckets and tools, and hurried from the room.
Later, as Selena climbed into bed and blew out the candle, she wondered if anything that Gladys had told her was true. The Clive Webster story had seemed to perturb her.
Was Gladys really a maid from Nottinghamshire who had never seen the sea and whose employer had moved to America? Or was she Maisie Webster, here to exact revenge?