Chapter Fourteen
Lady Mary
I finally found my quarry in the front sitting room. Marie was kneeling on the floor, a bucket of muddy water by her side, a wet rag in her hand. The late afternoon sunlight glinted off her auburn hair. “Hardly anyone uses this sitting room,” I said. “I wouldn’t think it would need much cleaning.”
The maid looked up, a scowl on her face. “It wouldn’t, except someone keeps putting Southey outside and when ’e comes back in, ’e trails this muck everywhere.”
“The outside air is healthful to dogs.” I cleared my throat.
Marie narrowed her eyes and scrubbed at a brown streak on the peach-colored rug.
I winced. I hadn’t meant to give the maids more work, but the dog did need to go out to do his business. And a bit of mud was of no comparison to the damage that beast was making of my skirts and boots.
Skirts and boots.
“Marie, before Perrin was killed, do you remember needing to clean mud off anyone’s clothes or shoes?” If someone picked a poisonous leaf from the garden here, he or she might have tromped through some mud to get to it.
She tossed the rag in the bucket and rose, stretching her back. “I didn’t notice, but I can ask the girl who does the laundry. But that wasn’t something Lord Perrin instructed us to look for. A bit of dirt isn’t scandalous enough to threaten someone with exposure, if you take my meaning.”
Someone gasped.
Marie and I turned toward the door.
Miss Smith stood there, three books bundled in her arms, a shocked expression on her face. “Do you mean to say that Lord Perrin had the servants looking for reasons to…to…extort his guests?”
I dropped my chin. “Come now, we already knew Perrin was a scoundrel. No need to act surprised.”
She walked into the room and dumped her books on a side table. “Did you look through my things?”
Marie shifted her weight. She raised one shoulder. “You ’ave lovely pantalets. I especially like the ones with the blue lace trim.”
Miss Smith’s cheeks went pink. “Thank heavens I didn’t marry that man.”
Marie twisted her mouth. “Is Mr. Taylor going to be any better?”
“I’m not marrying Mr. Taylor, either.” Miss Smith frowned.
“Oh.” Marie scratched her head. “Does ’e know that?”
I bit back a laugh. This maid had some cheek, I’d give her that. I was surprised Perrin would suffer such forthright talk to her betters. Perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps the girl was clever enough to know around whom she could loose her tongue.
Miss Smith stiffened. “There is nothing between Mr. Taylor and myself.”
“Begging your pardon, miss, but all of us who serve this ’ouse know of Mr. Taylor’s fondness for you. ’e didn’t want you marrying the master. Made that clear, ’e did. And we thought ’e intended on marrying you, after Perrin’s death and all. ’e thinks you are, at least.”
The color on Miss Smith’s face deepened. She balled her hands into fists.
I watched the maid. “Did Mr. Taylor want Miss Smith enough to kill for her?”
“Oh, really,” the woman in question muttered.
“People ’ave done more foolish things for worse reasons,” Marie said, sounding wise beyond her years. “You’re better off, begging my pardon for saying so. Lord Perrin wouldn’t be a proper ’usband.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“The master was supposed to get engaged during this party. To ’er.” Marie bobbed her head at Miss Smith, a strand of hair coming loose from under her cap. “And still Lord Perrin invited Mrs. Draper ’ere. Luckily, she declined, which put the master in a right foul mood, it did.”
Miss Smith’s forehead creased. “Who is Mrs. Draper?”
This time it was Marie who went pink. “Well, she’s a woman Lord Perrin used to…well, they used to….” She huffed out a breath. “Let me put it this way. We all thought ’er name was quite fitting, seeing as she used to drape ’er arms about the master, drape ’er skirts over ’is lap, drape ’er ti—”
“Yes,” I broke in. I appreciated when a person spoke their mind regardless of their perceived social status, but perhaps the girl could learn a bit more discretion. “We take your meaning, Marie.”
“And Perrin invited that woman to this party?” Miss Smith planted her hands on her hips. “A party to which he’d also invited me, his presumed affianced?”
Marie winced. “Yes.” The word came out sounding more like a question.
“What a lovely man.” Miss Smith’s eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s no wonder the house is filled with the sounds of mourning. Orphan and widow alike will fall to their knees in grief on hearing of his passing.”
I ignored the girl’s overly-dramatic sarcasm. “Are you certain about Perrin’s indiscretions?” Though it was hard to hide something like that from the servants.
The maid rubbed her lower back. “The last party at Perrin Manor, the master was quite open about it. Touching ’er shoulders.
Giving ’er meaningful looks. And right in front of poor Miss Walker.
That was one of the few times I actually felt bad for the woman.
” Marie made a face. “Though mayhap she deserved it.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
Marie wrinkled her nose. “She’s not as nice as she puts on. She can be cruel, she can. Said some right nasty things to Mrs. Draper, and when that lady fell off of the master’s ’orse, Miss Walker laughed. Didn’t think anyone was around to ’ear it, but I did.”
Miss Smith gave me a look full of triumph. “She has a streak of viciousness in her, it would appear.”
I flapped my hand at her. “Was Mrs. Draper badly injured?”
“Some nasty scrapes and bruises, but nothing more serious.”
Miss Smith leaned against the back of a settee. “How did Mrs. Draper fall from the horse? Did someone startle it?”
Did Miss Walker startle it, she meant. Miss Smith was determined to make Miss Walker the villain. But was she wrong?
“No, miss. The girth snapped, throwing ’er off while she was galloping.” Marie picked up her bucket.
The maid seemed eager to get back to work, but I was loath to let her go.
She was turning out to be quite the valuable font of information.
“Were you able to check the case in Lord Havenstone’s room?
” I ignored the look Miss Smith shot me.
I wasn’t going to feel guilty that I’d asked the maid to keep spying on the guests.
“Oh, I forgot.” She put the bucket back down and slid a folded bit of paper from the cuff of her sleeve. She handed it to me. “A list of the labels for each potion. None of the vials were empty.”
“Why is that significant?” Miss Smith asked.
I scanned the paper as Marie answered. I didn’t recognize many of the potion names, but one did catch my eye. Belladonna. So it was confirmed. Havenstone did have access to a potential poison.
“I just thought if I were to poison someone, I’d dump the whole lot in the wine. Make sure to get the job done.”
And the belladonna vial hadn’t been empty. Havenstone could have brought a second vial. Or perhaps a lethal dose was smaller than I’d expect. “Thank you, Marie.” I tucked the paper up my own sleeve. “You’ve been most helpful.”
She dipped a curtsy, picking up the bucket in the same motion. Most economical, I thought. “Yes, ma’am. Well, more pawprints to clean. I’m off.” And with that parting shot, she left.
“I told you Miss Walker was a good suspect.” Miss Smith walked around the settee and dropped onto it, pulling one of her books off the side table and onto her lap.
I sniffed. “What are you reading?”
“These are home apothecary books. I’m looking for any garden remedies that could be poisonous in excess and what the symptoms of the poisoning would be. If we can match Lord Perrin’s symptoms with one of the poisons, it might narrow down the suspect list.”
I was impressed. “I thought you weren’t going to investigate, only keep your eyes and ears open?”
Miss Smith raised a shoulder. “Reading is only using my eyes. Besides, Miss Walker has mentioned she has gardens of her own. I’ll wager that the poison used was one she grows at home.”
I sat next to her. “Don’t close your mind to other possibilities. Now, give me a book. I’ll help with your research.” And see if any of Havenstone’s potions were listed in these books.
But Havenstone didn’t seem as promising a suspect as he once had. Could Miss Walker have tampered with the saddle’s girth? And if she had tried to kill once before, how much easier would the second attempt have been?