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Authors: Rebecca Kent

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BOOK: Murder Has No Class
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“Well, Winnie, I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here that night. I noticed the gun cabinet is open. Is it always left unlocked?”
Winnie shot a glance at the gun case. “Yes, m’m. It is. Lord Stalham had a stiffness in his fingers and had trouble turning the key. He got cross one day and threw the key into the fire. The cabinet hasn’t been locked since. Though no one’s allowed to touch the guns. Except Smithers, of course, and he only touches them once a month when he cleans them.”
“Ah, I see. I noticed that some of them are quite old.”
The maid offered Meredith a plate of tiny jam tarts filled with lemon curd. “Yes, m’m. One of them belonged to an American bank robber, so I’m told.”
“Indeed? How interesting.” Meredith took one of the tarts and bit into it. The tangy flavor pleased her, and she quickly finished the tasty morsel.
“Yes, m’m.” Winnie shot another uneasy glance at the cabinet. “Lord Stalham kept the gun loaded, too. He frightened me one day when he showed it to an acquaintance of his while I was in the room. Sir Gerald Mackleby, it was. He took the gun from Lord Stalham and was waving it about while he talked. I kept expecting it to go off and shoot me.”
“That must have been very disturbing.” Meredith sipped her tea and put the cup back on the saucer.
“Yes, m’m. It were. It gave me quite a scare, I can tell you. I remember looking at that gun and thinking something bad was going to happen one day. Blow me if the very next day, Lord Stalham wasn’t lying dead on this very floor. Shot by that very gun.”
“How awful. Sir Gerald must have been quite shaken by the ordeal.”
Winnie shrugged. “I don’t know about that, m’m. He weren’t here when it happened. He’d gone back to London the night before Lord Stalham got shot.”
“It must have been a dreadful shock for everyone here.” Winnie put a hand over her heart. “Oh, it were, m’m. I was in bed, fast asleep when it happened, and I woke up to hear a commotion downstairs. I came down to see what was the matter, just in time to see the bobbies leading Mr. James away. It was really awful.”
Meredith nodded in sympathy. “How dreadful for everyone to discover that Lord Stalham had murdered his own father.”
There was a long pause before Winnie answered in a whisper. “Dreadful.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I never thought Mr. James would be hanged.”
“Why?” Meredith leaned forward. “Is it, perhaps, because you don’t believe James killed his father?”
Winnie seemed to have trouble replying and Meredith held her breath. Was it possible that the maid knew something that would help uncover the truth about that night?
Watching her intently, Meredith waited for an answer.
Chapter 8
After what seemed an eternity, Winnie gulped. “I don’t know what happened. Nobody knows what really happened in here that night. I just know it was the worst night of my life.”
Disappointed, Meredith said soothingly, “Well, it’s all over now, and you mustn’t dwell on it. You have a little one to consider. You and your husband must be so excited about the baby.”
Winnie’s cheeks grew red and she backed away. “If that will be all, m’m, I must get downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Parker will be up here right away.”
Meredith was left no time to ponder on Winnie’s reaction, since just as the maid reached the door, a thin woman with spectacles and frizzy gray hair appeared in the doorway.
Winnie scuttled past her and out into the hallway.
The housekeeper advanced into the room, and nodded at Meredith. “Mrs. Llewellyn, I’m Mrs. Parker, the housekeeper. If you’re ready, I’ll be happy to show you around.”
“Thank you. Very kind of you.” Meredith rose, brushing crumbs from her skirt, then followed the housekeeper out into the hallway.
At the end of it, Smithers stood talking to Winnie, who appeared to be cowering in front of him. Mrs. Parker clicked her tongue in annoyance. “If you will pardon me just for one moment, m’m. There is something I must attend to and then I’ll be right back.”
Meredith nodded, and watched the housekeeper trot down the hallway. Smithers looked up as she approached, and even from that distance Meredith could tell the butler was annoyed about something.
For a moment or two the housekeeper and butler argued back and forth, while Winnie stood staring at the floor. Finally, Smithers flung out a hand and Winnie scampered off. With a parting shot at the housekeeper, Smithers followed her and Mrs. Parker hurried back to Meredith.
“I’m so sorry about that,” she said, puffing a little. “Just a little domestic disagreement. It’s all taken care of now.” She waved a hand at the staircase that curved upward to the next floor. “Would you care to view the bedrooms first?”
“That would be lovely.” Following the wiry woman up the stairs, Meredith added, “It must be hard for Winnie to keep up with her chores, considering her condition.”
“She does all right. When she doesn’t have her nose behind a newspaper, that is. Always reading, that girl.” Mrs. Parker paused at the top of the stairs. “It’ll get worse for her as time goes on. She doesn’t have much choice, though, does she, what with having no husband to take care of her.”
Having suspected as much, Meredith merely nodded. “How sad.”
“It is sad, and none of it her fault.” The housekeeper’s features hardened. “She told me the baby’s father forced his attentions on her. Such a disgrace. Her life is ruined, and with the father gone she has no chance of anyone taking care of that baby except herself. It’s a hard life she has set up for her, I can tell you.”
“I’m so sorry.” Meredith’s heart went out to the poor child. “Can nothing be done to help her?”
Mrs. Parker sniffed. “Not in this house. If you ask me, far too much has been done to her already.” She reached a door and opened it. “This is the master suite. I think you’ll find it quite cozy, despite its size.”
Meredith gave the elegant room only a cursory glance. She was far too intrigued by the housekeeper’s comment. “Are you perhaps suggesting that someone in this house is the father of Winnie’s baby?”
Mrs. Parker sent her a furtive glance. “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. There are some who say James was the father, but Winnie won’t say as much. She’s not one to condemn a dead person.”
“But the child could be the legal heir to a fortune.”
“It’s not what Winnie wants.” Mrs. Parker glanced at the door as if afraid someone might be listening behind it. “If you ask me, I think she’s afraid that if she does claim James as the father, her baby will be taken away from her and raised by the family and she won’t have no say in the matter. Our Winnie is a lot stronger than she looks. She’s determined to bring up that child alone.”
“I admire her for that.” Meredith shook her head. “It won’t be easy.”
“I’m sure she knows that.” Mrs. Parker walked to the window and drew back the green and gold damask curtains. “There’s a lovely view of the gardens from here, if you’d care to take a look.”
Meredith joined her at the window. The view was indeed pleasing. A large fountain sat in the center of smooth lawns, which were bordered on either side by high hedges rimmed with flower beds. Wide-spreading oaks gave shelter at the far end and behind them the sun glinted on a large lake, just visible through the trees.
“It’s lovely,” she murmured. “You must be sad at the thought of all this changing hands.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all.” The housekeeper drew the curtains back across the window and headed for the door. “I grew up in London, and never was happy when the master moved me down here. Once the estate is sold I’ll be moving back into the main house. Lady Clara’s housekeeper is retiring, so I’ll be taking her place.”
“Lady Clara. That’s Lord Stalham’s wife?”
The housekeeper nodded. “James’s mother. Lovely lady, she is. We all love her. Especially Smithers. He worships the ground she walks upon, honest he does. Do anything for her, he would, and that’s saying a lot for a man like Smithers. He wouldn’t do nothing for nobody else, but Lady Clara . . . well, all she has to do is lift her little finger and Smithers is like a little puppy dog running for a bone.”
“He must have been a great comfort to her then, after the murder.”
“Oh, indeed he was. Poor woman. She was heartbroken over the loss of her son.”
Following the housekeeper out into the hall, Meredith murmured, “And no doubt the loss of her husband, as well.”
Mrs. Parker pinched her lips. “Oh, I don’t think there was much love lost there. Howard Stalham was a hard, cruel man. Though I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” She made a quick sign of the cross on her chest.
“He wasn’t well liked, then?”
The housekeeper paused in front of another door and threw it open. “We were all afraid of him. He could be really cruel. He once whipped a young stable boy for no good reason at all. The master had ordered his horse to be saddled, and wouldn’t listen when the boy told him the horse was ailing. The boy saddled a different horse anyway, and the master was furious. He took a whip to him, and made him saddle the horse that was ill. The poor thing died a week later. That boy still has the scars of that whipping, and never got over it.”
“Does the boy still work here?”
The housekeeper pushed open the door. “No, he left a while ago. This is another of the bedrooms. Not as big as the master suite, but very cozy all the same.”
Meredith glanced around. “Very nice. Tell me more about the stable boy. Was he still working here when Lord Stalham was shot?”
The housekeeper gave her a sharp glance. “No, he wasn’t. He ran off one night and never came back. That was months before the shooting.” She frowned. “I know there’s some who don’t believe James shot his father, but I can assure you, that stable boy was far from here when it happened.”
Meredith met her gaze squarely. “Do
you
believe James killed his father?”
Mrs. Parker turned sharply and marched out into the hallway.
She waited for Meredith to follow her out then closed the door with a soft thud. “All I’ll say is that someone else was in the house that night. I don’t know who but I know someone was here all right.”
“But Smithers testified that only the staff was here that night, besides James and his father, that is.”
The housekeeper set off at a fast pace toward the end of the hallway. “Maybe he didn’t know. He refuses to talk about it so who knows what he knew.”
Meredith hurried to catch up with her. “But if there was someone else in the house that night, why didn’t someone say something? Why didn’t
you
testify?”
“Because the lawyer wouldn’t let me. He said since I couldn’t say who it was for certain, I couldn’t say it in court. He said that Smithers was the only one who knew what really happened. All the rest of us were in our rooms fast asleep. I didn’t know anything was wrong until the dogs’ barking woke me up. When I got downstairs Smithers was at the bottom and the constables were pounding on the door. I—”
She broke off as a gruff voice called out from the top of the stairs. “Mrs. Parker! If you are finished showing Mrs. Llewellyn the property I should be much obliged if you would assist Winnie in the kitchen.”
The housekeeper gave a guilty start and called out, “Be right there!” Turning to Meredith, she added quickly, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Llewellyn. I hope you’ve seen enough to satisfy you for now?”
Reluctantly, Meredith nodded. She would have liked to have asked a few more questions. Particularly who the housekeeper thought the mysterious visitor might be, but judging from the dark scowl on Smithers’s face, she had already overstayed her welcome. She would simply have to wait for another time to find out more about that night.
There was one thing she would very much like to know. Did Smithers know about the visitor’s presence in the house that night? If so, why didn’t he mention it in his testimony? Those were answers Meredith was most anxious to hear. It appeared that she would have to pay another visit to the Stalham estate in the very near future.
 
 
“Now what are we going to do?” Carrying a small sack of potatoes, Grace marched across the kitchen and emptied the sack into the sink. “They’ve put the village off limits on Saturday. Now you won’t be able to hold your protest.”
Olivia grunted. “Who won’t?” She brought down the knife she was using to chop up a pile of spring greens and smacked it hard on the cutting board. “It’s not going to make no difference, so there.”
Grace swung around to gape at her. She’d secretly been feeling more than a little relieved at the prospect of postponing the protest, and she didn’t like the rebellious look on her friend’s face. “Of course it makes a difference! The girls won’t go now.”
“Who says? We weren’t supposed to be protesting anyway, so we would have been breaking the rules. What does it matter if we break one more?”
Grace pinched her lips. “It’ll mean a bigger punishment if we’re caught, that’s what.”
BOOK: Murder Has No Class
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