Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [133]
“Without them knowing,” he warned. “If they know before we get to them, they’ll hide them or destroy them. There’s a furnace for the conservatory heaters, at least. Then we’d never have proof.”
“I’ll start by asking Emily. And don’t worry, I’ll be discreet. I can, you know!”
“Yes, I know.” But nevertheless he watched her with anxiety, although he was not quite sure why. Perhaps it had more to do with the emotion he sensed in her, and his sudden awareness of it, than any danger she could be in or misjudgment she might make regarding the slippers.
“Blue-heeled slippers,” Emily said quickly. “Then it was one of us! I mean, it wasn’t a maid. Oh … I see. You mean that was who killed Greville.” She looked startled and very sober. Charlotte had found her coming back from the kitchens, where she had been consulting with Mrs. Williams about the next day’s dinner and how much longer the guests were likely to be there, which of course she did not know. Now they were walking across the hall towards the long gallery overlooking the formal garden, a place where there was unlikely to be anyone else at this time of the afternoon. The men were back to their discussions, for any good it might serve, and the women were all about their separate pastimes. Since two of them were very newly widowed, any attempt at social entertainment was impossible.
Emily opened the door to the gallery, a long room with ranks of windows to the south, and at the moment filled with a wavering light as the wind chased the clouds across the sun and away again.
“Who wore blue?” Charlotte pressed, closing the door behind them.
“I can’t remember,” Emily answered. “Anyway, you might wear blue slippers under another color, if it was the closest you had, or the most comfortable. None of them, except perhaps Eudora, have enough money to buy slippers for every dress.”
“How do you know?”
Emily gave her a sideways look. “Don’t be naive. Because I’m observant. You may not, but I know what is this season’s fashion and what is last … and what things cost. And I know good silk from cheap, or wool from bombazine or mixture.”
“So who wore blue?”
“I’m trying to think!”
“I don’t think it was Kezia.”
“Why not? Because you like her? I think she could have just the nerve to do it,” Emily argued. “I don’t think Iona McGinley would. She’s all dreams and romantic notions. She’d rather talk about things and prompt other people than do them herself.”
“Maybe,” Charlotte conceded. “Although that could be a pose. But I had a rather more practical reason for thinking it was not Kezia. She’s rather well built. With a maid’s dress over her own she’d look … well, pretty enormous. Gracie would have noticed her size. Anyway, whose dress would go over hers? Are any of the ladies’ maids really stout?”
“No. Maybe you’re right. That leaves Eudora herself, which is very likely, or Iona.”
“Or Justine,” Charlotte added.
“Justine? Why on earth would Justine kill Ainsley Greville?” Emily said derisively, her eyes wide. “She isn’t Irish. She’d never even met him before the previous day, and she was going to marry his son, for heaven’s sake!”
“I can’t think of any reason at all. I don’t think there is even very much money.”
“Don’t be squalid.” Emily’s mouth turned down at the corners.
“People have been known to kill for money,” Charlotte pointed out.
Emily ignored her, which expressed her opinion very clearly.
“Blue gown,” Charlotte repeated.
“I’m thinking! I haven’t seen Eudora in blue. She prefers warm colors and greens. I don’t think blue would suit her.” She shrugged. “Not that that means she wouldn’t wear it, of course. People wear the most awful things sometimes. Do you remember Hetty Appleby, with the mouse-colored hair, wearing yellow? She looked like a cheese!”
“No.”
“Really, you are so unobservant sometimes,” Emily said in disgust. “I don’t know how you are ever the least use to Thomas.”
“Justine wore cream with blue,” Charlotte replied.
“I think we agreed Justine had no earthly reason.