A Test of Wills - Charles Todd [50]
When Johnston answered her summons, she said, “The Inspector wishes to speak to Mary. Could you take him to the small parlor, please?”
Five minutes later, Rutledge found himself in a pleasant room overlooking the gardens and face to face with a woman of thirty, neatly dressed and primly correct. She had fair hair and pale blue eyes, and her cheeks were pink from nervousness.
Rutledge asked her to describe what she had seen and heard coming down the stairs the night of the quarrel, and she answered readily, giving him almost verbatim the same words he’d heard from Johnston. But he wanted more.
“You have no idea what the two men were quarreling about?”
“No, sir. None.”
“Was it the sort of quarrel that might have led to blows? Or to hard feelings?”
Mary frowned, trying to bring back the scene as she remembered it. “They were very angry, sir. Their voices were deeper, rougher, if you know what I mean? I wouldn’t have recognized it for the Captain’s, not if I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes. It wasn’t a small matter they’d quarreled over—I’ve never seen either of them that upset. But they’re gentlemen, both of them, it would never have come to blows, however bad it was!” There was a naive certainty in her words, and Rutledge found himself suppressing a smile.
“What reason did Miss Wood give you for coming upstairs early?”
“She didn’t give any, sir, but as I was brushing her hair she said she’d left the gentlemen to discuss the marriage, and I asked if she’d be going up to London soon. She said she didn’t feel like thinking about what all had to be done in London, not tonight. So I thought she must have a headache starting, especially when she asked for a cloth to cool her face. She was that tense, the way she always is when something’s troubling her, so I helped her get ready for bed, and left her to sleep.”
“Strange, isn’t it, that she wouldn’t have wished to be present if it was an important discussion? Headache or not.”
“You must ask Miss Wood that, sir. But if they was to talk about business matters, now, the settlement or such, it wouldn’t have been proper, would it? And she’d seemed a little restive all evening, to tell the truth of it, as if there were things on her mind or the headache was coming on. The first fitting for the gown was next week, and they say brides often get edgy over that.”
“Miss Wood herself never mentioned a headache? Or that she was feeling unwell?”
“No, sir. But I can always tell when there’s something bothering her. She doesn’t need to say anything.”
“How long have you worked at Mallows?” he asked, as if that was more important to him than the evidence she had given. Her eyes flickered in surprise, but she answered readily. “Since I was twelve, sir.”
“Was the Colonel a good master?”
“The best, he was. Always considerate, always polite, saying please when he had no need to.” She bit her lip. “We’re all that upset….”
“Yes, I understand. I hear that you have a relative who is housekeeper to Miss Tarrant?”
“That’s right, yes, sir. My sister.”
“How long has she been in Miss Tarrant’s employ?”
The pale eyes narrowed warily. “Since 1910, sir, if you please. Or I should say, she was Mr. Tarrant’s housekeeper then.”
“Is she happy enough there?”
“It would seem so, sir.”
“And she met Captain Wilton when he was here in Upper Streetham before the war?”
The wariness vanished. “Oh, yes, sir. Vivian thought very highly of him.”
“He was very much interested in flying even then, I understand.”
“Indeed, sir. Mad for it, she said. And teasing Miss Catherine about taking her up, making her laugh and plead with him not to dream of it.”
“A pleasant man, was he? Good-natured, well-mannered?”
“Yes, sir. A gentleman. Not like—” She stopped short.
“Yes? Not like Charles Harris?”
She turned a deep red, and he realized that it was with anger, not embarrassment. “Oh, no, sir! The German, not the Colonel!” And then, with grave dignity, she added, “I’ll say no more, sir, if you please.