The Confession - Charles Todd [23]
“Do you remember anything else about him?” When she hesitated, he added, “Was he a troublemaker? Was there gossip about him?”
“If there was, I don’t remember it now,” she answered. “But of course we didn’t mix all that much with the villagers. The staff at River’s Edge.” She smiled wryly. “We thought ourselves above them. And here I wound up marrying one of them. You never know, do you? But at the time, Mrs. Russell encouraged us not to go into Furnham. On our days off, every other week, she’d let us go into Tilbury for the day. Let us have the use of the cart, even, as long as Harold Finley drove it. And she cautioned us to stay well away from the docks.”
“You are sure this man isn’t Major Russell?”
“Oh, no, I’d know Mr. Russell anywhere. Even after all this time. I was a maid in that house for fifteen years, until Mr. Brothers come along. Yes, I’d recognize him even today, for certain.”
Throughout the questioning, Hamish had been silent. Now he interjected a comment, catching Rutledge off guard as he was setting the envelope down by the leg of his chair, out of sight. Mrs. Brothers was bringing the teapot to the table, and he glanced up quickly, certain she must have heard the voice as well. But she had turned away to pick up two cups and saucers.
“Ye ken, yon dead man knew the people at River’s Edge well enough to accuse the one of killing the ither.”
It was an excellent point.
“What was the relationship between Fowler and Russell? Did they get on?”
“They did, well enough, except where Miss Cynthia was concerned. Then it wasn’t so friendly, was it? And some of it was her doing, flirting with first one and then the other. It wasn’t serious, I’ll say that for her. Mind you, I know the difference. She didn’t fancy either of them, but she was the sort to like their attentions.”
“You didn’t care for her?”
“Not to say didn’t care for her,” Mrs. Brothers replied. “That’s too harsh a word, isn’t it? But I was not taken in by her ways. She even flirted with Harold Finley. Not in quite the same fashion, but enough to turn his head. That wasn’t fair, was it? To lead him on? But he was a fine figure of a man, tall and strong and clever as well. She couldn’t resist proving he was under her spell too.”
Harold Finley. The driver-cum-butler, when the need arose.
“How did she flirt with him?”
“She’d invent little errands where he was to drive her here and everywhere. To Tilbury to return a book to the lending library in the bookshop. To Furnham, to find a ribbon that matched her hat. Once to London to see a friend. But Mrs. Russell put a stop to London visits. A young girl like that. It wasn’t wise, was it?”
London, the den of iniquity? “No, it must not have been,” he answered.
“I don’t suppose you know how that man came by Mrs. Russell’s locket or had Miss Cynthia’s photograph in it?”
“No. But when I find Miss Farraday, perhaps she can tell me.”
“Yes, and she’ll lead you up the garden path, if I know her, unless she’s changed.” As if she’d said more than she intended, Mrs. Brothers added, “But to be fair, she wasn’t wicked, just lively and sometimes trying.”
“Did you by any chance keep in touch with her after she left River’s Edge?”
“There I can’t help you, and I’m that sorry. I never knew just where it was she went to in London. But she could have told me ten times over, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. I was never in London, you see. I did hear that the house had belonged to her parents, which isn’t much help, as she’s likely married by now and living somewhere else.”
He finished his tea, retrieved the locket from the table along with the envelope, and prepared to take his leave, thanking her.
“You never told me how you came to have Mrs. Russell’s locket.”
He owed her the truth.
“The dead man was wearing