found himself going to the far end of the hall and through the door into the servants’ quarters. Since Ramsay was in his study, and hardly in a position or a frame of mind to do it, perhaps it fell to Dominic to reassure the servants, offer them whatever comfort and reminder of duty they needed. Mallory did not seem inclined to, and he already knew the feelings in the house over his conversion to “Popery,” as they called it, even though they had known him since childhood. Some of the more devout among them even regarded it as a betrayal. Perhaps that very fact made it cut the deeper.
The first person he encountered was the butler, a portly, usually comfortable man of middle years who managed the household with avuncular pleasantries masking an excellent discipline. However, today he looked deeply disturbed as he sat in the pantry checking and rechecking his cellar stocks, having counted the same things three times over and still unable to remember what he was doing.
“Good morning, Mr. Corde,” he said with relief at being interrupted. He stood up. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Good morning, Emsley,” Dominic replied, closing the door behind him. “I came to see how everyone is after this morning’s events …”
Emsley shook his head. “I just don’t understand it, sir. I know what they’re saying, but I can’t see how it’s possible. I’ve served in this house for thirty years, since before Mr. Mallory was born, and I just don’t believe it, no matter what Stander and Braithwaite say they heard.”
“Sit down,” Dominic invited, and sat on the other chair to make Emsley comfortable.
“The sergeant came in here, sir,” Emsley continued, accepting gratefully. “Asked a lot of questions that seemed pointless. None of us know anything.” His lips tightened.
“None of you were near the stairs?” Dominic did not know what answer he hoped for. The whole thing was a nightmare from which there seemed no waking.
“No sir,” Emsley said grimly. “I was in Mrs. Henderson’s room going over some accounts with her. We needed more linen. Funny how it all goes at once. At least a dozen sheets. Best Irish linen, too. Still, they don’t wear forever, I suppose.”
“And Cook?” Dominic prompted, trying not to sound as he knew the police must have.
“In the kitchen.” Emsley shook his head. “All the kitchen staff were, or in the scullery. James was cleaning the knives. Lizzie was laying the fire in the withdrawing room; Rose was in the laundry room. She’d just turned the mattresses and changed the beds and taken the linen down. Margery was polishing the brasses, so she’d got them in the main pantry on the table, and Nellie was dusting in the dining room.”
It was ridiculous to think of one of the maids’ having pushed Unity down the stairs. But then it was absurd to think of Ramsay’s doing it, either.
“Are you sure?” he said, then, seeing the look of vulnerability on the butler’s face, wished he could think of some way of explaining himself. “No one could have seen or heard anything and be afraid to say so?”
“The police sergeant asked that, too,” Emsley said unhappily. “No, Mr. Corde. I know how fast a maid should be able to polish brasses. I’d know if she’d left her job. And Mrs. Henderson’d know if Rose wasn’t where she said, or Nellie.”
“How about the between maid, what’s her name, Gwen?”
“She was telling off the bootboy,” Emsley said with the shadow of a smile which vanished again instantly. “They were well heard by the kitchen staff. None of us knows what happened. I only wish we did.” He shook his head. “There’s got to be some explanation better than the one they’ve come up with. I’ve known Reverend Parmenter since before he married, sir. That Miss Bellwood was a mistake, I don’t mind saying. I didn’t care for it when she came here. I don’t think young women have any place in serious thought about religion.”
He looked at Dominic very gravely. “Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Corde, I think women can be as religious as any man, in some ways more so. They have a simplicity and a purity about them, the best of them do. But they aren’t built for studying the deep things, and it only ends in trouble when they do. But then Reverend Parmenter wanted to be fair. A very fair man he always was, and open to reason, maybe a bit too open, poor man.”