Chapter 7 #2
‘I am not his secretary. And I require nothing more than my own wits. If you would take a seat, we shall start with you. As the head of the household, I’m sure you are privy to all manner of information.
’ Clio knew her tone would do no favours in lowering the butler’s defences, but it couldn’t be helped.
The arch look Grey bestowed upon her intensified the flames licking away her patience.
The butler slowly sat, his spine fairly creaking as he folded himself into the chair. He gave a stilted report of what he remembered from the night Viscount Beachley was murdered. As Grey stood to dismiss him, his information as helpful as spitting on an inferno, Clio cleared her throat.
‘How would you describe your relationship with the housekeeper?’
Grey sat down again, twisting to look at her. Though they weren’t touching, she could sense the tension in his body. He didn’t like her asking the questions.
Too bad. I don’t like you sitting next to me smelling of clean linen, frost, and Christmas. Of all the ridiculous scents!
‘Mrs Coggins?’ the butler asked.
Clio stretched her mouth into a friendly smile. ‘You no doubt work closely with her. Both heads of your department. Would you say Mrs Coggins enjoyed her position here? That she got along with the staff and Viscount Beachley? That she worked well with his wife?’
The thin man stretched his neck and tugged at his collar. ‘I don’t see what this has to do with Viscount Beachley’s murder.’
Clio just raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t? Hmm. Interesting.’
Alarm widened the butler’s eyes.
‘I think we’ve gotten the answers we need from Mr Chatham.’ Grey’s terse words prompted the butler to stand, his sigh of relief leaving no doubt about his feelings.
‘If you need nothing else from me?’ He spoke to the lieutenant general, avoiding Clio’s gaze.
‘Thank you. You have been most helpful. Please send in the next staff member.’ Grey nodded his dismissal.
‘We’d like to speak with Mrs Coggins last.’ Clio spoke quietly, but the butler stiffened his spine.
As soon as the man left, Grey turned to her, his green eyes so bright, they almost glowed.
Anger suits him.
Not that it mattered.
‘What are you on about?’
Clio shrugged, enjoying knowing she’d gotten under his skin. ‘The butler will share our questions with the rest of the staff. Mrs Coggins will know we’re focusing on her. Nervous people often say things they don’t mean to, reveal secrets inadvertently, hide the wrong things. Don’t you think?’
‘I think nervous people are inclined to make mistakes.’
Triumph swelled her chest. ‘Exactly.’
‘Which means they might mislead us without meaning to. Perjure themselves, not because they are guilty, but because they are scared.’ He turned in his seat to face her. ‘Coercing a confession out of a frightened housekeeper is hardly showing investigative skill.’
‘Rattling the cage and seeing what creatures scuttle out is exactly the kind of investigative skill that has helped me solve eight cases for Uncle Lachlan over the past three years.’ Of course, speaking to dead victims about who killed them didn’t hurt.
Ghosts could be amazingly helpful witnesses when seeking justice for their deaths.
Before Grey could offer a rejoinder, the door opened, and the cook entered.
Grey pressed his lips together, stood, and gestured to the chair opposite them. ‘Please, have a seat.’
The cook’s eyes widened. Probably because his offer was closer to an angry command than a polite request. Which was Clio’s fault. But she couldn’t dredge up an ounce of remorse.
I’m right, and he knows it.
They spent the next several hours speaking with every member of Viscount Beachley’s remaining staff.
Clio asked each one something about the housekeeper.
Only one member of staff answered her. Miss Sanders, the young maid who had opened the door for them.
When Clio asked her thoughts on Mrs Coggins, the girl burst into tears.
Through halted sobs, she confessed her job was in peril now that the viscountess had gone missing.
Apparently, the housekeeper had been threatening to sack Miss Sanders for weeks, but Viscountess Beachley wouldn’t allow it.
She felt the girl had promise and went toe to toe with the housekeeper about keeping her on despite Mrs Coggins’ insistence Miss Sanders was insolent and lazy.
‘The viscountess was a right hero, she was. Defending me to that ’orrible witch.’
Clio blinked, her fingers twitching on the table. ‘Let’s not digress to name-calling, Miss Sanders.’
The girl wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffed loudly.
‘Beggin’ your pardon. It’s just, I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t come back.
Mrs Coggins already warned me I’ll get no letter of reference from her.
Mother and Father depend on me wages to help with the little ’uns.
I can’t go back to the workhouse. This was me chance. ’ She dissolved into loud wails.
Grey frowned at Miss Sanders as though she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. ‘How long have you been in service?’
She startled, no doubt as terrified of Lieutenant General Grey as she was of Mrs Coggins. ‘S-six months on Wednesday next.’
Grey nodded, as if this were good news. ‘My housekeeper has been looking for a new maid. She is firm, but fair. She’s trained many young women who have gone on to work in grander homes. If circumstances change for you here, there might be a place for you with her for a time. Can you read?’
Miss Sanders’ mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut again. ‘I knows me letters and numbers, but I’m no good at sums.’
His firm lips twitched. If Clio weren’t so filled with astonishment by his unexpected kindness, she would have found room to be shocked by the humour dancing in his eyes.
One more incongruent wrinkle in the fabric comprising Lieutenant General Grey.
He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to the maid.
‘My address is there. I shall tell Mrs Hughes not to be surprised if she gets a visit from you. But perhaps the viscountess will return, and all will be well.’
Clio rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. Thankfully, Miss Sanders didn’t see as she was too busy staring at Grey like he was some kind of guardian angel.
More like a fallen angel.
‘Well, thank you so much for your help. If you wouldn’t mind sending in Mrs Coggins, I believe she is the last person we need to speak with today.’ Clio tried to keep her tone kind, but really. Did the girl need to bat her eyes at Grey like some twitterpated fool?
Clio gave him a sidelong glance as Miss Sanders left the room.
‘What?’ He kept his eyes on the door.
‘How fortuitous that you need a maid. Now. The timing is remarkable.’
‘I don’t. But she needs a steady income and training if she wishes to make any kind of future for herself. My housekeeper excels at teaching new staff how to master their work, and—’ He stopped abruptly as if realising he revealed too much. ‘I don’t need to explain myself to you. Or anyone.’
She snorted. ‘Dear goddess, no. One might think you cared what others think, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.’
‘Caring about other people’s opinions is a waste of time.’
Annoyingly, she happened to agree with him, so she remained silent.
Grey stood from his seat, tugged down his coat, and strode to the end of the room.
Tension corded his muscles as he turned to face her.
‘For someone who seems convinced the housekeeper is a prime suspect, you were quick to admonish Miss Sanders for insulting the woman. What was it she called her? A witch?’
Her shoulders hitched, and she straightened her spine. He was trying to provoke her. She wouldn’t allow it. ‘Name-calling benefits no one. My desire for people to be treated respectfully, regardless of their guilt or innocence, has nothing to do with my suspicions regarding Mrs Coggins.’
He walked back and took his chair. ‘Hmm. Interesting.’ As he mirrored her last words to the butler, Clio realised something.
‘I don’t like you, Grey.’
‘Finally. Something upon which we agree.’
Grey didn’t like her either. Fine. Grand.
Or does he agree with me because he also doesn’t like himself?
A fascinating idea she had no time to ponder as the door opened, and Mrs Coggins entered.