Chapter Six
Riley’s anticipated wait for Prudence’s arrival was cut short when Salter entered the room, looking hot and bothered. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped sweat from his brow.
‘Any luck?’ Riley asked.
‘Not what you’d hoped for. No diary. Well, actually there were journals, but nothing for this year. I found a few letters between her and her father and brought those with me.’ He waved a sheaf of papers in the air. They were tied together with a ribbon. ‘But that room was as neat as a pin. I tell you, sir, I looked everywhere for this year’s diary but it simply wasn’t there.’
Riley nodded, aware that Salter knew how to search a room and that no hiding place, no matter how obscure, would have escaped his attention. ‘There was a maid, I assume, and she would have heard the news.’
‘Aye, just the one, and a cook. They were both in a right old state. Said Emily was the sweetest girl as ever lived.’
‘Had either of them tidied the room?’
‘They said not. It was just as she’d left it. The maid said Emily was considerate and liked to keep things neat. She told me she had almost nothing to do in Emily’s room because she was naturally tidy.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You think the distraught mother somehow got word to the maid to clear out anything we might want to look at?’
Salter appeared dubious. ‘Don’t see it myself. That would imply that the mother was somehow implicated and has something to hide. If that were the case, she’s have tidied the room herself.’
‘Stranger things have been known to happen. Anyway, I shall be speaking with Mrs Ferguson again. In the meantime, we must assume that her daughter did keep a diary for this year,’ Riley said. ‘She wouldn’t have stopped the habit, especially when her life had reached such a pivotal point. So someone read it without her permission and confiscated it—’
‘So we come back to Mrs Ferguson. I can understand your thinking that way. I mean there’s no one else who would have reason to, but still, it would be a terrible imposition. To read something so private, much less impound it. Mrs F seems like such a meek little thing.’
‘Who is terrified of her husband. If what I hear of his character is to be believed, he wouldn’t have any qualms about reading his daughter’s diary, privacy be damned. And if it gave particulars of Emily’s affection for her unnamed paramour, there’s no telling what steps he would take to bring the association to an end. We know he has taken his frustrations out on his wife in a violent manner, if Jute is to be believed.’
‘I’d say that he is.’
‘I agree.’ Riley fell into momentary deliberation. ‘I think Mrs Ferguson somehow got wind of Emily’s affections for another man, so she read her diary, had it confirmed and argued with Emily about it. Anyway, I would hazard a guess that Mrs Ferguson reminded her daughter what was expected of her and warned her off the young man. She’s hidden the diary somewhere to prevent it from falling into her husband’s hands, hoping her daughter would see reason before her father returned.’
‘You might be right, sir, but unless we can get our hands on that diary, we can’t prove it. It’s not like we can look in Mrs Ferguson’s room, which is doubtless where she’s hidden it. Well, we could, but it would set the cat well and truly amongst the pigeons. Chief Inspector Danforth stressed the need for discretion.’
‘And wouldn’t hesitate to bring my heavy-handed tactics against a grieving mother to the attention of the commissioner.’ Riley gave a grim nod. ‘I’m aware of that, which is why a less direct approach is called for.’ Riley thought of Amelia and how easy it would be for her to look in the most likely places whilst lending her friend support in her hour of need. It was just the sort of situation that Amelia excelled at, to say nothing of giving Riley a legitimate excuse to spend more time in her company. He brightened considerably at the prospect.
‘You have something in mind, sir?’
‘Better that you don’t know, Jack.’
Salter rolled his eyes. ‘Undoubtedly. But be careful, sir. You know how the chief inspector will pounce upon the slightest excuse to see you demoted, or worse.’
‘He’d be happy to see me banished to the privilege of my own class, I’m sure,’ Riley said. ‘Don’t worry. In this particular instance he’s more concerned about a quick resolution than scoring points against me, although if he can do both, I don’t suppose he will be too unhappy. Anyway,’ he added languidly as he stretched his arms above his head, ‘it seems our Mrs Ferguson has some explaining to do. Most women are aware that tears prevent men from probing too deeply into their affairs. Not that I thought her tears were false. Even so, if she did take her daughter’s diary and knew of her affection for an unsuitable young man, why the devil didn’t she tell us? Presumably she wants Emily’s killer caught.’ Riley tapped his teeth with his forefinger. ‘I wish I knew why she was less that forthcoming with us, always supposing that she has that diary, of course.’
Salter was prevented from responding when the door opened to admit Prudence Ashton. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles that her mother would never permit her to wear in company, Riley suspected, regardless of her short-sightedness. Her pale complexion belied her calm demeanour, as did the tremor in her hands.
‘Please sit down, Miss Ashton,’ Riley said, standing and indicating the chair that her mother had just vacated. ‘I am very sorry about your friend.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, releasing a clenched fist to reveal a small, lace-edged handkerchief that she used to dab at her eyes. ‘It has been such a shock.’
‘I can well imagine.’
Riley examined Prudence as he gave her a moment to regain her composure. She was the polar opposite to her handsome brother, who had inherited his mother’s good looks. Sadly for Prudence, she favoured her father and possessed the same small mouth, pinched features and thin brown hair. She would be an ugly duckling compared to Gloria Dalton. Seen with Emily, she would have faded into complete insignificance.
It seemed unfair. Miss Ashton could well have a quick brain and be a lively conversationalist, but young people were judged by their looks alone and Prudence must have felt that injustice on a daily basis. Presumably she had a substantial dowry, but that would be the only reason why any young man would single her out. Jealousy and resentment were powerful motives for murder, Riley knew. Even so, he didn’t think Prudence was the guilty party. Quite apart from anything else, her hands were tiny. Too small and delicate to squeeze the life out of a rival, even if that rival was incapacitated and anger or desperation had lent Prudence superhuman strength.
‘You and Emily came out together,’ Riley said.
‘Yes, and Gloria too. We remained friends since we all live permanently in London, quite close to one another.’
‘And were destined to become more closely related. Your brother wanted to marry Emily.’
A flash of annoyance crossed Prudence’s face. ‘Everyone she met was captivated by her beauty and sweet nature and wanted to marry her.’
‘You didn’t mind?’
‘I am a realist, Lord Riley.’ She blinked behind her spectacles and a spark of animation lit her dull eyes. ‘Besides, I am not looking for a husband. I much prefer to apply myself to my studies.’
‘What studies would those be, miss?’ Salter asked. His voice was calm yet carried authority. Riley had heard that voice before, and knew that it usually came with an avuncular smile. Riley had seen him use the approach with timid young witnesses on several occasions. As a father, Salter was comfortable talking to adolescents from all backgrounds, and they almost always warmed to him.
‘I want Papa to let me have a position at the bank,’ she said, lifting her chin defiantly, undoubtedly aware how unlikely she would be to get her way. ‘I have more aptitude for making financial predictions than Terrance ever will, and more interest in the subject, too. Heavens, I often advise Terr…’ Prudence pulled herself up. The animation and defiance left her face and she sighed. ‘I have endless patience and my situation will resolve itself eventually, I expect,’ she concluded.
Riley was tempted to ask what she had stopped herself from saying. What advice did she give her brother? Surely he didn’t discuss investment business with his sister. It was clearly a subject that Prudence felt passionately about, but had she stopped herself from blurting something of significance? She was in command of herself again, he noticed. The brief animation she had displayed had been replaced with a passive expression and Riley knew she wouldn’t give him a truthful answer if he chose to push the point.
He did not so choose…not now. But if he deemed it necessary, Prudence would eventually tell him everything he wanted to know. Or maybe she’d tell Salter. That might be an avenue worth pursuing.
‘Did Emily confide in you?’ he asked instead. ‘I realise that if she did, you would feel compelled to keep whatever she told you private, but that was before she was killed. Now I need to know everything about her that you knew in order to try and find out who killed her. You do see that, don’t you?’
‘I am not a dimwit, Lord Riley, but in truth I don’t know much. All I can tell you is that she didn’t really want to marry anyone yet. She was enjoying herself too much, I expect. But her father was putting pressure on her and she was afraid to disappoint him.’
Afraid? Riley thought that a telling choice of word.
‘Do you know if there was anyone she liked?’ Salter asked softly.
‘No, sorry.’
‘Would Gloria Dalton know?’ Riley asked.
‘I really couldn’t say. To be frank, the subject bores me, but I believe Miss Dalton has an interest in such things.’
‘Just one more question. I have heard it said that Miss Ferguson suffered from chronic shyness. Would you agree with that assessment?’
Prudence frowned and tilted her head to one side, light reflecting from the lenses of her spectacles, as she gave the question due consideration. ‘Actually, yes, I rather think she did. She always seemed surprised when people sought her out, which from my observations, is unusual in attractive women. Their appearance generally imbues them with confidence and they just assume that everyone will gravitate towards them. Not that I speak from personal experience, of course,’ she added, with a wry smile. ‘Gloria is flirtatious, has the confidence to put herself forward and enjoys being noticed. Not so Emily. It was almost as though she felt undeserving of all the attention she received and hoped to fade into the background.’ Prudence lifted a slim shoulder. ‘Not that she ever could, of course, but she was certainly not arrogant about her looks.’
‘Thank you. That’s useful,’ Riley said.
‘Really? I don’t see how.’
‘I saw Miss Ferguson once or twice during her season but wasn’t personally acquainted with her. I am attempting to build up a picture of all aspects of her character. It might help us to find the person who killed her.’
‘Well, I’m glad to have helped, if that’s what I have done, and hope you do find whoever did this horrible thing. But you need to understand that I wasn’t that close to Emily, or to Gloria, either. It was Mama who tried to promote the friendship but I really had very little in common with either of them.’ She laced her fingers together and studied her hands. ‘Society’s frivolities hold little attraction for me.’
Riley felt rather sorry for the chit and treated her to an engaging smile. ‘Then we have something in common.’
‘You?’ Prudence looked shocked. ‘But you could…Is that why you became a detective? It supplies you with a valid excuse to avoid soirees like the ones my mother so enjoys and forces me to endure also?’
He inclined his head. ‘It is certainly one of the reasons.’
‘Then I look forward to the day when the Detective Department opens its doors to female recruits.’
‘You would be a very worthy addition to our ranks.’
‘It will never happen, though,’ Prudence said gloomily. ‘We might show more insight than our male counterparts, and they would never recover from the humiliation.’
Riley’s lips quirked. ‘Very likely not.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t, by chance, happen to call out to Emily not long before she was found.’
‘No,’ Prudence replied without hesitation. ‘I was in the drawing room the entire time. Why do you ask?’
‘Idle curiosity.’
‘I heard someone call her name when we were all in the gardens, if that’s what you are referring to. But I couldn’t say whose voice it was. I’m not even sure if it was a man or a woman. Sorry. I was thinking about something else entirely and didn’t attach any importance to the incident, other than the fact that we all returned to the house and went our separate ways at that point.’
‘That was some time before her body was found,’ Riley said, concerned about the amount of time that had elapsed between Emily last being seen alive and the murder taking place. ‘Didn’t anyone wonder where she was?’
Prudence shrugged. ‘If anyone did, they didn’t voice their concerns. They probably assumed she had been cornered by one of the gentlemen, I suppose…oh.’ Prudence was quick enough to realise that there was a strong likelihood that that had indeed been the case. Riley could almost see her mind at work. A furrow appeared between her brows as if she was gathering a mental roster of the gentlemen who had been there at the time. The furrow was replaced by a look of impatience. Riley knew she’d realised that his officers would have made such a list already. Pity, Riley thought. She would make an excellent detective if she wasn’t a woman. ‘Everyone in the house that night was aware that they were all keen to win her affections,’ Prudence continued. ‘They didn’t exactly make a secret of the fact and I think some of the older guests found it amusing to watch. I did hear one or two of them quietly speculating about which gentleman she would choose.’
Riley stood. ‘Thank you, Miss Ashton, that will be all for now.’ Riley walked towards the window, which had been flung wide to let the breeze in and the memories out. Behind him he heard Salter approach Prudence.
‘If you think of anything that Miss Emily might have said to you, no matter how insignificant it might seem, be so kind as to send word. You are clearly an intelligent young lady and we would be grateful for your help.’
Riley turned in time to see Prudence beam at Salter’s compliment. The gesture illuminated her features and made her appear almost pretty. ‘Thank you,’ she said, walking through the door that Salter opened for her. ‘I will certainly do that.’
‘Poor scrap,’ Salter said as he closed the door again. ‘Right, what next?’
Before Riley could respond, the door opened and Farlow stood there. ‘His lordship’s compliments,’ he intoned. ‘If you would be so kind as to join him in the dining parlour, a light luncheon has been laid out and Mr Ashton has arrived home.’
Riley hid his surprise at this sudden change in Ashton’s attitude, wondering what he hoped to achieve by being hospitable. ‘Thank you, Farlow,’ he said.
Riley and Salter followed the butler across the expanse of entrance hall, where they found both Ashton males seated at the table in the dining parlour. It was a clever ploy on the senior’s part, since he clearly assumed that Riley would question his son over luncheon, at which Ashton had a legitimate reason to be present and influence his responses. It was interesting that he felt the need to oversee the boy, or perhaps prevent him from telling all that he knew. Ashton must realise that Terrance was one of the prime suspects.
The only real suspect, as things stood.
‘Once I have finished my business here, Farlow,’ Riley said, deliberately waiting until Ashton could hear him, ‘I shall want to interview all of the staff. Have the goodness to assemble them for me in, shall we say, an hour.’
Farlow glanced at Ashton and, at a nod from his employer, acquiesced. ‘As your lordship wishes.’
Riley and Salter took their places at the table. Salter was presumably expected to feel intimidated by the surroundings, but he had dined at Riley’s own table often enough and wouldn’t be overawed by the sight of decent china and crystal.
They spent ten minutes eating luncheon, Riley content to allow the silence to draw out as Salter looked around the ostentatious dining room with an expression that was close to, but not quite, contemptuous. Eventually Ashton could take no more.
‘You wanted to talk to my son,’ he said. ‘So here he is. He’s time’s limited so now is your opportunity.’
Riley finished the indifferent pasty he had been eating, wiped his fingers with his napkin and put it aside before responding.
‘There is somewhere we can speak in private?’ he asked, addressing his question to the younger man.
‘No need for that,’ Ashton replied brusquely. Riley looked Ashton in the eye and let the silence draw out again. ‘Oh, very well, you can talk in here.’ He threw his own napkin aside with such force that it fell to the floor. ‘I have better things to do with my time anyway.’ Ashton left the room, muttering beneath his breath.
‘Well then,’ Riley said, watching Terrance closely. He had barely eaten a thing and was as pale as a ghost. He clasped the stem of his glass with a hand that shook, and his grip upon it was so tight that Riley feared for Lady Ashton’s crystal. ‘I am sorry about this tawdry business. I know you were fond of Miss Ferguson.’
‘Fond?’ Terrance returned his glass to the table, had second thoughts, picked it up again and drank half of its contents. Riley and Salter had barely touched the claret that Ashton had pressed upon them, presumably hoping to dull their senses. ‘Fond? She was an angel beyond compare. I was to marry her.’
Riley’s astonishment was uncontrived. ‘She had accepted your proposal?’
‘Not as such, but it was only a matter of time. I knew she would come to her senses eventually.’
‘You thought she was dallying with your affections?’
‘She would never have done that!’ Two spots of colour appeared high on Terrance’s wan cheeks. ‘She didn’t have a conniving bone in her body.’
‘Then what makes you suppose that she was on the point of accepting you?’ Salter asked. ‘We are told that she received several proposals, including two from other guests here last night.’
‘Oh, them.’ Terrance flapped a hand in casual dismissal of their claims upon Emily’s affections. ‘She wasn’t serious about either of them.’
‘Or you, it seems,’ Riley said. ‘What happened last night? Did you sneak away from the billiards room and seek her out for a private interview in the music room? She rejected you for a second time, told you she was in love with someone else—’
‘She was not!’ Terrance cried hotly, knocking his glass over in his agitation and spilling the remnants of his claret over the pristine white cloth. It spread like blood over pale flesh, but Terrance seemed neither to notice nor care.
‘She told you her affections were engaged elsewhere.’ Riley continued with his speculations as though Terrance’s fierce reaction to them had not occurred. ‘You lost patience with her. She was yours and no one else would have her. Jealousy gripped your heart like a vice, and before you know what you were about—’
‘That’s utter rot!’ Terrance jumped to his feet, toppling his chair over this time. ‘I wouldn’t harm a hair on her precious head.’
‘I still fail to understand why you were so convinced she would take you.’
‘For this, if you must know.’
Terrace reached into his pocket and produced a telegram. He passed it across the table and Riley and Salter perused it together. It was from Ferguson in India, giving permission for Terrance to address his daughter and his approval to the match. If Mrs Ferguson was aware of the existence of that particular communication, Riley thought, she had failed to mention it. Terrance put his hand out for the telegram, which Salter folded carefully and put in his own pocket. The two locked eyes for a moment, but Terrance was no match for Salter’s steely determination and looked away first. He righted the chair he had knocked over and sat back down upon it.
‘I’m not arrogant enough to suppose that she preferred me to all the others who swarmed around her,’ he continued. ‘But I knew she would come to love me in time, if only because I loved her so much. I also knew she wouldn’t go against her father’s express wishes.’
‘Because he needed your money,’ Riley said. ‘You made a deal with him.’
‘I gave him certain assurances, it’s true,’ Terrance replied evasively. ‘But that’s normal. I couldn’t have my beloved wife’s family living on the breadline.’
‘How did your father feel about the match?’ Salter asked. ‘Did he approve?’
Terrance scowled at the opposite wall. ‘We had words on the subject, I’ll admit that. He had nothing against Emily but thought…well, that I was too young to tie myself down.’
‘And that you could do a lot better for yourself. He wanted you to marry a woman from a more affluent family.’
‘So what if he did? The pater’s worked hard to achieve what he has and sets a great deal of stock by prestige. He is proud of what he’s achieved.’
‘Is that why you and he argued so violently last night?’
‘What…no!’ Terrance looked startled…and afraid. ‘Who says we argued? It’s a damned lie. I was playing billiards.’
‘The entire time?’ Riley asked, fixing Terrance with a penetrating look.
‘Well no, we each took a turn out since there were only three of us.’
He would know, of course, that Riley intended to speak with Granville and Leith, his billiard-playing companions. They were also competitors for Emily’s hand, and Riley presumed that Terrance was probably unsure if he could rely upon their support if he claimed to have been in the billiards room the entire time when he had not been. Besides, if their feelings for Emily were as passionate as Terrance’s, and if they considered him capable of killing her, they would hardly cover for him. Would they? The question was, did Terrance leave the billiards room at the vital moment, and for a sufficient amount of time?
‘What did you do when you left the billiards room, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘Well, nothing much. I just took the air and stretched my legs.’
‘Hoping to run into Emily?’
‘I assumed she was with Pru and Miss Dalton.’ He shrugged. ‘She stuck to them the whole damned evening, as though she didn’t want any of us to catch her alone.’ A melancholy smile illuminated his handsome face, but was quickly eradicated. ‘She was too damned modest for her own good. If she’d let me take care of her, she’d still be alive today.’
‘Did you happen to see anyone else when you were, as you put it, taking the air and stretching your legs?’ Riled asked.
‘Can’t say that I did.’
‘The house was full, the entertainment was concluded and the night was sufficiently warm that many guests sought fresh air or the opportunity for a cigar, yet you saw no one?’ Salter interjected.
‘You didn’t take two glasses of champagne into the music room and meet Emily there by prior agreement?’ Riley snapped at Terrance from the other side. Terrance looked between Riley and Salter like a hare caught between two lamps.
‘I already told you no, damn it! And yes, of course I saw people. I saw guests, I saw servants. But I saw nothing to alert me to any sense of foul play, if that’s what you were trying to suggest. I can’t prove it so you’ll just have to take my word for the fact that I loved Emily. The last thing I’d want to do was hurt her, especially since I had her father’s permission to marry her. That much I have been able to prove. And I knew she would see reason eventually. I’m a patient man, Lord Riley, and was willing to wait for her to come to her senses, if only because her father insisted upon it. Then it would have been up to me to make her love me as much as I loved her.’ He shook his head and a solitary tear leaked from one eye. ‘It’s too late for that now.’
‘You weren’t worried about her marrying one of her other suitors?’ Salter asked. ‘Her father needed her to marry a man with money and both of them are as well situated as you are.’
‘Absolutely not!’ But Riley thought he didn’t look as sure as he sounded.
‘Very well.’ Riley inclined his head. ‘Thank you. That will be all for now.’
Riley and Salter watched the broken young man shuffle from the room.
‘Did you believe him?’ Salter asked.
‘Depends which part. Did you?’
‘I think he believed the young woman would eventually comply with her father’s wishes, but—’
‘But you can’t decide if he was aware that she was violently in love with someone else, accounting for her procrastination. If he knew—or if he’d just that minute found out— it’s easy to imagine such a hot-head allowing jealousy to get the better of him. Either way, I’ll wager a guinea it was Terrance and his father Amelia heard arguing on the terrace shortly before the body was discovered.’
‘Wouldn’t Mrs Cosgrove have recognised their voices?’
‘Outdoors? From a distance? Voices sound different in that situation, especially when raised in anger.’ Riley stood. ‘Come on, Salter. Let’s go and interview the staff, then we can get out of this mausoleum.’
Much to Farlow’s annoyance, they appropriated the butler’s pantry for that purpose, where Riley graciously invited him to join them.
‘Please take a seat,’ Riley said.
‘Thank you, my lord, but I prefer to stand.’
‘Have it your way.’ Riley shrugged his disinterest. ‘How long have you served Lord Ashton?’
‘I was privileged to enter service in his father’s household as a boot boy.’
‘Some years then. You must have known Lord Ashton since he was a boy himself.’
Farlow nodded.
‘Your loyalty does you credit, Farlow, and I am sure you are as anxious as your master is to have this distasteful matter resolved in the quickest possible time.’
‘It is very distressing, my lord. But I share my master’s opinion that it must have been the work of an opportunistic burglar.’
Riley wasn’t surprised to hear it. ‘Which implies that he gained access to the property thanks to the laxity of one of the servants.’ The slight tightening of Farlow’s jaw was the only indication that he’d taken exception to Riley’s suggestion. ‘In other words, someone forgot to lock the gate from the mews. Access couldn’t have been gained by any other means. It was not, in fact. My men have conducted a thorough check.’ Riley allowed a moment for Farlow to absorb that information. ‘If the gate was left unlocked, whose fault would that be?’ he asked.
‘Mine, your lordship.’ Farlow stood a little straighter, a feat Riley would have thought impossible since his stance was already as rigid as a poker, oozing disapproval at this unwarranted intrusion into his private domain. ‘I am the head servant and responsibility for security rests with me.’
In other words, Farlow would deal with the recalcitrant footman in his own way.
‘Explain how service was provided for her ladyship’s guests last night,’ Riley said.
‘It was not a formal dinner, but a soiree. Paxton, the senior footman, and I served drinks when the guests arrived.’
‘What did they drink?’ Salter asked.
Farlow frowned at this interruption. He would tolerate Riley’s questions, albeit reluctantly, but probably considered Salter to be beneath his notice.
‘Champagne or fruit punch for the most part. Some of the gentlemen preferred something a little stronger.’
‘The drinks are kept in the dining parlour,’ Salter remarked. ‘Presumably you poured and served from trays.’
Farlow inclined his head, not bothering to answer with words.
‘When the party moved into the music room, did the guests take their drinks with them?’ Riley asked.
‘Some of them did, and we offered replenishment between performances.’
Riley suppressed a smile. From his experience of musicales most guests were in urgent need of the additional fortification to see them through the ordeal.
‘When the recital finished, did all of the guests move into the dining parlour for supper?’
‘I saw no one lingering.’
‘Are you sure, Farlow? This is vitally important. It was not a formal dinner so guests were milling about. You were occupied with your duties and might not have noticed.’
Farlow actually appeared to think about it. ‘You imagine that the unfortunate young lady hung back with the intention of keeping a private assignation,’ he said, twitching his nose as though he had just detected a bad smell. ‘But I recall seeing her and Mrs Ferguson in the dining parlour, so that cannot have been the case.’
‘Very well. Thank you. That’s helpful.’ Riley was startled by a large cat that suddenly landed on the windowsill outside of Farlow’s pantry. The butler looked affronted and shooed it away. ‘I assume you and Paxton, I think you said his name was, served the guests with drinks and helped them to food in the dining parlour.’
‘We did.’
‘Who cleared up the music room?’
‘That would have been Susan, the housemaid.’
‘Alone?’
‘We only employ one other maid and she was required to assist in the kitchens.’
‘I see.’ Riley stretched his long legs to one side of Farlow’s desk, thinking it odd that Lady Ashton hadn’t engaged additional domestic help for the evening, as was the custom with most families when entertaining. Another indicator of financial constraint perhaps? ‘So Susan went into the music room and presumably shut the adjoining doors to the drawing room so that if a guest returned to it he or she would not have to witness the housemaid going about her chores.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘She put the chairs back in place, cleared away the glasses and wiped the tables.’ Farlow nodded. ‘Now think carefully. Were any glasses left behind or unaccounted for?’
‘It is part of my duties to check the safe return of all the glasses, silverware and gold leaf crockery after a party. Naturally only the best is used.’
‘Naturally,’ Salter muttered, eliciting a sour look from Farlow.
‘I check to ensure all the glasses have been properly washed, that none of them are chipped and all are accounted for. I always perform that duty before retiring. But, of course, last night was an exception, what with…well—’ Farlow seemed furious that Emily had carelessly permitted herself to be murdered, playing havoc with his routine. ‘Anyway, I attended to the matter this morning and discovered that two of her ladyship’s best champagne glasses were missing. Upon enquiry, I learned that you had taken possession of them.’
‘They were found in the music room.’
‘So I understand, but Susan assures me that she didn’t leave any behind when she tidied the room.’
‘I am sure she did not,’ Riley replied, not wanting her to suffer from the pompous butler’s ire if he suggested otherwise.
Riley asked a few more questions, but Farlow’s loyalty ran too deep for him to reveal any information that might tarnish the family’s image, even peripherally. He thanked him for his time and asked to see each of the footmen in turn.
The first was a very anxious young man, little more than a boy, with a girlishly pretty face and ridiculously long lashes. Murray wasn’t permitted to show that pretty face above stairs when the family was entertaining, he earnestly assured Riley, since he was still in training and couldn’t be trusted not to drop something. Farlow had confirmed that only he and Paxton attended to the needs of the guests, so Riley took Murray at his word and dismissed him.
Paxton was a far more interesting character. He not only took a seat when invited to do so but quickly proved loquacious.
‘You have worked here for five years, you say,’ Riley remarked. ‘Are you content in your employment?’
‘It’s a job,’ Paxton replied, sniffing. ‘Mr Farlow’s a hard taskmaster, but it ain’t too bad other than that. Of course, we have more duties now.’
‘Since Lord Ashton’s valet left and…’
‘And Jessie, the kitchen maid. Bit of a shame that.’ Paxton grinned, his good humour infectious. ‘Right pretty, so she was, and always cheerful. But she fell for Border, his lordship’s valet. Now his lordship don’t hold with his servants marrying and they didn’t want to lose their positions so…well, let’s just say that passion overcame them. Farlow caught them at it, if you follow my meaning.’
‘Indeed I do. What happened?’
‘Farlow hated Border. He felt he was closer to his lordship that Farlow is, so of course, he ratted them out. Border was told that Jessie would have to go. I suppose his lordship thought that she was expendable and Border wasn’t, but he miscalculated. Border simply told him if that was case they’d both go so they would be able to marry, which was what they’d been saving up to do anyway.’
‘How do they make a living?’ Salter asked. ‘I don’t suppose his lordship gave them glowing references.’
‘Ha, that’s the funny part. Border is a tailor’s son and used to make all of his lordship’s clothing from scratch.’
‘Good God!’ Paxton had finally astounded Riley. ‘I should have thought that a gentleman of his calibre would have a Savile Row tailor.’
‘Nah. Tight as a tadpole, is his lordship. Don’t be taken in by all those elegant parties they throw. That’s all for show. Below stairs, we have to account for every penny. Anyway, I think his lordship regretted giving Border an ultimatum—’
‘Because he now has to pay a lot more for his clothing,’ Salter said, chuckling.
Paxton shrugged. ‘I imagine he does, yes. Serves him right too.’
‘Do you know what became of Border and Jessie?’ Riley asked, thinking that aggrieved servants who knew the layout of the house might have sought revenge by attacking that which Ashton treasured the most. His good name. What better way than to have a debutante found dead in his house?
‘Yeah, they opened their own little tailor’s shop in the Bethnal Green. I see them sometimes on my day off.’
Salter jotted down the address that Paxton reeled off.
‘Now then,’ Riley said, becoming serious. ‘You have heard tell, I expect, that Lord Ashton thinks an intruder killed the poor girl.’
‘Well he would, wouldn’t he?’ Paxton pulled a doomed face. ‘He’s not likely to blame one of his own. And I know where you’re going with this. Locking the gate was my responsibility and I tell you true, I locked it after the jarveys came in for supper. This might not be much of a position but it suits me for now and I ain’t about to throw it away through carelessness.’ He stroked his chin, looking gloomy. ‘Course, Farlow might try to set the blame on me, use me as a scapegoat, but I won’t stand for it. I know a few things about him that I won’t hesitate to make public if he tries it. Ashton ain’t the only one with a reputation to protect.’
Riley exchanged a glance with Salter. This would be a job for his sergeant—an interview with the staff one-by-one, an interview that would be much less formal, much more likely to loosen tongues. ‘How many keys are there to that gate?’ he asked.
‘Two. One hangs on a hook here in this pantry.’ He pointed to a wood panel with hooks screwed into it, from which dangled keys to just about every area of the house, all neatly labelled. ‘That’s how I can be so sure that I relocked the gate. I have to take the key from here, let them in, then relock the gate. I always ask myself if I’ve done that before I return the key, because I forgot once and Farlow docked ten shillings from my wages.’
‘An incentive to remember,’ Riley said sympathetically, even though he couldn’t imagine Farlow having time to check on a night when they were understaffed and he was so busy.
‘Precisely. Anyway, I know I locked it and the coachmen can bear witness to the fact since I had to come and get the key again and unlock it when they finished supper.’
Riley nodded, pleased there was independent corroboration for what he had already decided was an honest account. ‘Who holds the second key to the gate?’ he asked.
‘Farlow. He has a master set that he keeps locked away in here somewhere.’
‘Now, when the first lot of guests left through the mews, did you unlock the gate to let them out?’
‘I did, and I left it unlocked on Mr Farlow’s orders because he said the remaining guests, that would be you, sir, and Mrs Cosgrove, would soon also be leaving. After you went, I made sure it was locked up tight. We still thought there might be a prowler about somewhere, you see.’
‘I do see.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and decided to ask the crucial question he had not asked Farlow, thinking it more likely that Paxton would give him an honest answer. ‘Were more drinks served after supper?’
‘Some of the gentlemen asked for whisky or brandy,’ he replied. ‘The ladies either had coffee or fruit punch, seeing as how it was such a warm evening.’
‘And if anyone wanted anything else?’
‘We were told we weren’t needed once we’d served the drinks, so we came down here to help with the remaining duties. But,’ he added shrewdly, ‘anyone wanting champagne could have gone into the dining parlour, opened the bottle that had been left on ice and helped himself to glasses.’
‘Indeed,’ Riley said, absently plucking his lower lip with his forefinger. ‘Do you know if that bottle had been opened?’
Paxton shook his head. ‘When Miss Ferguson was found, it kind of put paid to our routine. Farlow would know, I expect.’
‘Undoubtedly.’ Riley paused. ‘Is there anything else you would like to ask, sergeant?’
‘No sir. I think that covers it.’
Riley thanked Paxton and dismissed him. He seemed an intelligent enough man, Riley thought, and he was as certain as he could be the Paxton had not murdered Emily. He had no reason to, and wouldn’t risk the hangman’s noose by aiding or abetting the person who carried out the deed. If the time ever came when Stout needed permanent help in Riley’s household, Riley wouldn’t hesitate to offer the lad a position. He recognised integrity when he saw it. Paxton might be a jack the lad but Riley would wager that he was honest and hardworking.
Susan, the senior maid, was the only other member of staff who interested Riley. She was a nondescript little thing of about twenty, who had worked at the house for three years. She confirmed that she had cleared the music room while the guests took supper. Riley suspected that an eagle-eyed butler like Farlow would ensure that she discharged her duties diligently. No short cuts that would be evident to the Ashtons, no slipping of standards, no matter how pressed they were. She swore on her mother’s life that she left no glasses in the room but failed to look him in the eye when she made that assertion. Perhaps, Riley thought, she didn’t hold her mother in much affection.
‘Do you enjoy working for Lady Ashton?’ Riley asked.
She allowed a telling pause before responding. ‘Yes, sir,’ she eventually said with no real conviction.
‘What do you most enjoy about it?’ Salter asked gently.
‘Well, sir, I like to follow the activities of the young people.’
‘Miss Prudence.’
The evasive look in her eye told Riley all he needed to know.
‘You prefer Mr Terrance’s company?’ he suggested.
Her plain face brightened. ‘I can’t deny it, sir. He’s ever so kind and always remembers my name. You never hear a cross word from him, even when we’re behind and we don’t always answer his bell as fast as we should.’
‘That would be Paxton’s duty, surely? To attend to the young gentleman’s bell, I mean.’
‘Yes, but sometimes I have to do it ’cause Paxton has ever such a lot to do, and I don’t mind.’
Riley was perfectly sure that she did not.
‘What do you talk about when you respond to Mr Terrance’s summons?’
‘Oh, this and that,’ she replied evasively. She had a lazy eye, Riley noticed, and found it disconcerting that her left eye didn’t follow the same direction as her right. It was almost as though she possessed the ability to look in different directions simultaneously.
‘He hoped to marry the young lady who was killed, I think?’
‘It’s not my place to say, sir.’
The angry frown that marred her brow told a different story. Susan didn’t like the idea of Terrance marrying Emily one little bit, but he found it hard to imagine that a maid with limited intelligence would have been able to formulate such a clever ploy to get Emily alone, much less strangle her. Be that as it may, he wouldn’t put it past her to collude with another in order to permanently rid the world of the lovely young girl who was everything Susan was not, and never could be.
Riley shared a look with Salter as he dismissed the girl. They hadn’t found the murderer yet, but had perhaps found the woman who had called Emily to her fate.