“I mean as she had company.”
“Company?” Joe’s thoughts skittered for a moment and then he had it. “Oh! A lady’s maid? Was she allocated one such from the resident staff to help her with her unpacking?”
“Nothing like that. She turned Rosie down and shifted for herself … Naw! She had a man in here. I clocked him creeping along the corridor at half past one.” He paused to assess Joe’s reaction.
“At one thirty in the morning? I’ve scanned the guest list, Ben. Now who, of that gouty unadventurous company, would be shuffling along the corridors in his bedroom slippers at that hour?”
Ben gave a scoffing laugh, enjoying the picture Joe was conjuring up. “No slippers! He was still in evening dress! I followed him to see what was going on. ‘Hang on!’ I thought, ‘He’s drunk as a skunk! He’s taken a wrong turning!’ Of course he wasn’t and he hadn’t. Knew very well where he was going. Passed all the other guest rooms and fetched up here. I think he was expected.”
Trying for a calm tone, Joe asked: “Why do you say that?”
“The door wasn’t locked! He didn’t even need to knock. Just opened it and walked straight in.”
“Go on.”
“Well, words or something must have been exchanged because seconds later, out he comes again with the door closed in his face. Quiet but firm.”
Joe began to breathe again.
“Well—he weren’t havin’ none o’ that! He bangs on the door this time and calls out her name, all upset and pleading like …‘Dorcas, you have to let me in!’ ‘Lord!’ I thought, ‘He’s going to rouse the whole house!’
“With any effect?”
“I’ll say! The lass opened up, shushing him, then she reached out, cussed something fierce, grabbed him by the shoulders and heaved him inside. Then she—or he—locked the door.” Ben grinned and confided, “No idea what she did with him after that. Perhaps they had a game of Snakes and Ladders? Anyway—he didn’t come back past my station for the rest of the night. When Grace started moving about before dawn waking up her ladyship I didn’t know what to do. I thought I’d better follow the mistress like I’d been told.” Ben’s face took on a sharp expression. “But I’ll tell you what—if there’s any question about the death being set up—I can tell anyone who needs to know that Miss Dorcas has got a perfect alibi.” He glowered defiantly at Joe. “If anyone tried to drag that poor young gel into it, I’d have to spill the beans. Position or no position.”
The bold words off his chest, he grinned lasciviously. “Miss Joliffe and young master Alex were in here together all night alibiing each other.”
CHAPTER 17
“Never kill the messenger” was a reasonable rule of conduct, Joe had always thought. But perhaps he could just punch him on his cocky little nose? He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the window overlooking the courtyard. He stared out into a dark, desolate space, out of focus and alien, a reflection of his soul. Would thumping Ben stop Joe from falling deeper into the depth below him? Joe whirled around, clenching his fists. He rather thought it would.
“Sir! Are you all right? Did I say something? I’m sorry if I did. Squealing like that … perhaps I should never … but Lady Cecily said it would be all right—I should tell you what I knew. And I wouldn’t want someone who can’t answer back to catch it for something she didn’t do. They’ll put the blame on the weakest. It’s always their way.”
It wasn’t Joe’s way. The footman’s words punctured his swelling rage and gave him back some sort of control over his emotions. He said coldly, the policeman’s reasoning taking over, “Have you thought, Ben, that on this occasion, the family might be only too grateful to accept Miss Joliffe’s story? If push came to shove and they all had to come clean, that is. If she’s in the clear, so is Alexander. As you said—they supply each other with an alibi for the hours before and the time of Lady Truelove’s death. Though, of course, chivalry would always reduce a gentleman to silence. He would never give away a lady’s secret, even when he’s standing in the dock at the Old Bailey and the hangman is knotting his noose. He—they—are never going to reveal their situation to an official police enquiry.”
“That’s why they’ve sent for you, sir. Friend of Sir James and Lady Cecily, you can work it all out discreetly. No need for red faces, eh?”
Joe knew that if he were to get at the truth it would have to be extracted from the most skilled liar he had ever come across—Dorcas herself.