“Ben, did you report the, er, midnight wanderings to Lady Cecily?”
Ben hung his head. “Should ’a done, shouldn’t I? Trouble if I did and trouble if I didn’t, I reckon …”
“Ben, you are in no way to blame. You were put into a bad situation. If trouble there’s been—the fault lies with others. Well—did you?” he insisted.
“No, I kept my mouth shut. I told her everything up to Miss Dorcas turning in for the night. Thing is—Master Alex is in a spot of bother at the moment.” He hesitated.
“I’m aware of the young master’s problems.”
“Ah. Well … I wouldn’t want to get him into worse trouble. None of us would. He’s all right is Master Alex. Never any trouble to the female staff, unlike some. Us indoors—we’ve always covered for him. Don’t like to see a bloke get picked on, even when it’s his own doing it.”
“And his mother’s his most demanding critic?”
“Always! Especially since he came back from London this time. She’s got him on a tight rein and I didn’t want to say something she’d not want to hear and that would get him into further trouble. As well as doing the girl no good—her reputation would have been shot to pieces. If I’d spoken out that would have been a headache for four people.”
“And you wouldn’t want to be known as the spreader of gossip?”
“You’ve said it! We’re supposed to keep quiet about what we see and hear.” Ben’s eyes gleamed suggestively. “People wander about in the night, like I told you. Sometimes they need a guiding hand back to their own billet. Unless we want our ears torn off by Mrs. Bolton, we say nothing. Well, over a ciggie round the back of the dairy, having a laugh with the other lads, that’s different.”
Joe strained to keep his focus on the job in hand when all he wanted to do was flee back to London, pursue Dorcas to Highgate or wherever she was hiding out and wring the truth from her. Professional routine rescued him from rash action. He remembered Cecily’s interrupted assertion that her son James had an alibi for the night of Lavinia’s death and decided to follow it up. “Lady Cecily claims that James has a cast-iron alibi for the time in question. Can you confirm …?”
“Oh, yes, sir. When the house was settled and everyone in their rooms I escorted her ladyship down to the drawbridge—I always see her back safely over to her own place. That’s the Dower House. About a hundred yards away down the drive. They leave the bridge up till I get back. We were just going over the bridge when Sir James comes haring up all of a lather. ‘Don’t you worry, Ben,’ he says, ‘I’ll see Mama home. Tell them they can put the bridge up now. I’ll be at the Dower House for the night.”
He anticipated Joe’s question. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Her Ladyship has a nice little guest suite of her own and Sir James does occasionally … um …”
“Seek refuge?”
“Run to his mum’s! He didn’t come back until they rang with the bad news to fetch him back over.”
“Ben, there’s something more you can do for me. For me and her ladyship,” he thought it prudent to add. “When next you’re sharing a smoke with the lads, ask about—discreetly!—if the valet that Mr. McIver’s brought down with him is what he says he is. Body servant? Chauffeur? Or is he really employed in McIver’s professional sphere? Has he by any chance got a camera in his kit? I like to know these things. I’m shy around cameras in the sweating hands of the press.”
“Camera? Old Blenkinsop? Naw! Why would he? Known Clarence for years, Mr. Styles has. Old mates.” He gave a sly smile. “But that new lady’s maid his wife’s brought … she has! Calls herself Chloe.”
“New, Ben?”
“She’s not the one they had with them last time they were here—back in April when …”
“That weekend …”
Ben nodded. “The other girls say she’s French but I’m not so sure … She’s been put to bunk up with our Rosie. And Rosie watched her unpack. She was very careful to warn Rose to keep her hands off her stuff, it was fragile. Cheek! Rosie checked it over later, of course. She says it’s not your common or garden Kodak—it’s a posh German thing. ‘Leica’ would that be? What would a lady’s maid be doing with a Leica?”
“Thanks for that, Ben. Look—your Rose is a smart girl, is she?”
“I’ll say!” Ben sighed his admiration. “Bright as a fresh-minted sixpence. Good with her fingers and knows how to keep her mouth shut. What do you have in mind, sir?”