Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [80]
Of course, Charlotte made immediate arrangements for Jemima, and by eleven o’clock in the morning she was at Emily’s door. Emily was there as soon as the maid. She almost scurried Charlotte into the morning room.
“Lucinda’s right,” she said urgently. “She is dreadful, of course, and all she wants is to discover some piece of scandal she can tell everyone else and feel thoroughly superior about. She’ll dine out on it for the rest of the Season. But she won’t find out anything, because she’s going about it all the wrong way!”
“Emily!” Charlotte took hold of her, gripping her arm. She could only think of Fulbert. “For heaven’s sake, don’t! Look what happened to Fulbert!”
“We don’t know what happened to Fulbert,” Emily said reasonably. She shook Charlotte’s arm off with impatience. “But I want to find out—don’t you?”
Charlotte wavered.
“How?”
Emily scented victory. She did not push. She tried a little honest flattery.
“Your suggestion—I suddenly realized that was the way. Thomas can’t do it. It would have to be casual—”
“Who?” Charlotte demanded. “Explain yourself, Emily, before I explode!”
“Maids!” Emily was leaning forward now, her face shining. “Maids notice everything, between them. Maybe they don’t know what all the different pieces mean, but we might!”
“But Thomas—” Charlotte started, although she knew Emily was right.
“Nonsense!” Emily brushed it aside. “No maid is going to talk to the police.”
“But we can’t just go questioning other people’s maids!”
Emily was exasperated.
“For goodness’ sake, I shan’t be so obvious! I shall go for some quite different reason, a recipe I admire, or I could take some old dresses I have for Jessamyn’s maid—”
“You can’t do that!” Charlotte said in horror. “Jessamyn will give her her own old things. She must have dozens! You couldn’t explain any reason—”
“Yes, I could. Jessamyn never gives her old dresses away. She never gives anything away. Once it has been hers, she keeps it or burns it. She doesn’t allow anyone else to have her things. Besides, her lady’s maid is about the same size as I am. I have looked out a muslin from last year that will be perfect. She can wear it on her afternoon off. We shall go when I know that Jessamyn is out.”
Charlotte was very dubious about the idea and feared it might prove embarrassing, but since Emily patently intended going regardless, her curiosity obliged her to go as well.
She had misjudged Emily. They learned nothing that seemed of any value at Jessamyn’s, but the maid was delighted with the dress and the whole interview appeared as natural as a chance conversation with no purpose at all but pleasantry.
They proceeded to Phoebe’s, arriving at the only time of the day when she was to be absent, and learned of an excellent mixture for making furniture wax with a most pleasing smell. It seemed Phoebe had taken to visiting the local church at odd hours, lately as often as every other day.
“Poor creature,” Emily said as they left. “I think all these tragedies have quite turned her mind. I don’t know whether she is praying for Fanny’s soul, or what.”
Charlotte did not understand the idea of praying for the dead, but there was nothing difficult in sympathizing with the need for comfort, a quiet place where faith and simplicity had found refuge over the generations. She was glad that Phoebe had discovered it, and, if it gave her calm, helped hold at bay the terrors that crowded in on her, so much the better.
“I’m going to see Hallam Cayley’s cook,” Emily announced. “You know the weather is quite different today. I am thoroughly cold, even though I put on a warmer dress. I do hope we aren’t going to have a wretched spell, the Season isn’t nearly over!”
It was true, here was an east wind, and it was definitely chill, but Charlotte was not interested in the weather.