A Christmas Homecoming - Anne Perry [48]
He lowered his eyes very slowly. “I apologize, Mrs. Fielding. I was extremely rude. I am afraid of losing what I know, and have always believed I wanted. I was afraid of Mr. Ballin because he lured Alice away from me into another kind of world, but I did not kill him. I was with Lydia. If you ask her, I’m sure she will tell you.” He gave a rueful smile and met her eyes again. “If I was with her, then she was also with me. We were in the morning room until you went back up the stairs again to your room to tell Mr. Fielding about Ballin. I know that because we heard your footsteps and I looked out the door to see who it was, so we could go upstairs unobserved. We had not realized how late it was, and we felt it would be indiscreet to be seen.”
“So it would,” she agreed. “What was I wearing?”
“A … a pink dressing robe, and your hair was loose down your back. It is rather longer than it looks to be.”
She nodded slowly. “It is fortunate you chose that particular moment to look. Thank you.”
“I … er …”
“You have no need to explain yourself further,” she told him. “I shall confirm it with Lydia, and we shall be able to keep the police from bothering you—I hope.”
“Mrs. Fielding!”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
She said nothing, but smiled a little bleakly and nodded.
t was after dark. Outside the wind had dropped, and the frost was bitter when Caroline spoke to the housemaid who usually changed her bed linen and tidied the room. She had come in to give Caroline clean towels, but after she had put them on the rail she stopped a moment, clearly wishing to speak. She was a handsome girl, but her face was troubled. She kept moving her hands, rubbing one with the other softly.
“What is it, Tess?” Caroline asked. She was almost certain what the girl was afraid of, and she sympathized with her.
“Is ’e ill wi’ summat catching, ma’am?” she asked.
“No,” Caroline answered. She thought Eliza Netheridge might not forgive her, but the truth had to be told some time. “He is not sick. I’m afraid he met with what may have been an accident, and he is dead. We did not tell you because we didn’t wish everyone to be frightened, nor did we want to spoil Christmas.”
Tess’s face flooded with relief, until the truth sank in that a man was dead. Her expression crumpled to sorrow. “ ’E were a nice man, even if ’e were a bit odd, like. I’m sorry as ’e’s dead, ma’am.”
“I think it happened very quickly.” Caroline tried to keep her imagination of the scenario out of her mind, the violence, the pain, and the blood; even if it had been brief, it hadn’t been painless. But she put the image out of her mind; she would never have a better chance to speak to one of Netheridge’s servants. She had to get a hold of herself, focus, and learn what she could from Tess.
“The police are going to ask us what happened, because they have to know,” she went on. “The poor man’s family must be told.”
“I’m terrible sorry …”
“Of course. We all are. We are not quite sure what happened, and it would be better if we knew. Were you upstairs late in the evening?”
Tess nodded. “I din’t stay. Mr. Netheridge were … not ’isself.”
“He was ill?”
“No, ma’am, but ’e an’ the mistress were ’avin’ a disagreement.”
“What about?” Caroline did not make any excuses as to why she wanted to know. There were none that would not sound completely artificial. “The play?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. It were about the drawin’ room, an’ such like, the dinin’ room, too. It’ll all need redoin’ pretty soon. Come the spring, at the latest. The master says