Mrs. Jeffries & the Silent Knight Emily Brightwell (easy books to read in english .txt) 📖

came in from

Brazil.” He was speaking more to himself than the inspector.

“Er, Mr. Clark, I’m sorry about your plant—”

“It’s not just a plant, Inspector,” Clark cried. “It’s part of

my life’s work. Now I must take care of this, you’ll have to

ask any more questions you might have at another time.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked toward a row of

long cabinets at the far end of the conservatory.

Witherspoon was of two minds. One part of him wanted

to follow the fellow and insist that he continue the interview, while another part was rather relieved to be rid of him.

He decided to let the man alone; Clark did appear to be

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genuinely distressed, so he’d not get Clark’s full attention.

Perhaps he ought to go and have a word with Constable

Barnes. Perhaps he was having better luck with the servants.

For once, Witherspoon was correct. Barnes was indeed

having a better day than his inspector. He’d caught the cook

at just the right moment, and they were alone in the

kitchen. Mrs. Merryhill was upstairs writing the grocery

list, the scullery maid was having a day out, and the second

kitchen maid was scrubbing down the shelves in the dry

larder. Mrs. Cobb, the small, slender gray-haired cook, was

sitting across from him at the kitchen table and chattering

like a magpie.

“Well, I says.” Mrs. Cobb took a quick sip of tea. “It’s no

wonder someone’s killed the old fellow, he was meaner than

two snakes in a Turkish bathhouse.”

“So you weren’t surprised by Sir George’s sudden death?”

Barnes prodded.

“No one was surprised,” she replied, “no matter how

much they like to pretend they was. His own kinfolk

couldn’t abide him.”

“Are you referring to his daughters?” the constable

asked.

“And Mr. Clark,” she added. “He couldn’t stand him, either. They’ll all go the funeral and wear black, plunge the whole ruddy house in mourning, but it’s worked out well

for all of them.”

Barnes nodded. “You mean they’ll inherit his money.”

“Now that he’s gone, Miss Charlotte won’t have to hire

herself out as a paid companion just to do a bit of traveling.”

“Charlotte Braxton is a paid traveling companion?”

Barnes wanted to make sure he got that right. If true, it was

genuinely strange. The daughters of baronets didn’t do such

things.

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“Oh, yes, she loves to travel, she does. Sir George gave

her one trip to the continent when she was a girl, but she

wanted more, so he told her to pay for it herself.” She

shrugged. “I know it’s awful, but she hired on with Lady

Celia Cavendish. Every time Lady Cavendish goes abroad,

she pays Miss Charlotte’s way as well, but Miss Charlotte

has to do all the fetching and carrying and taking care of the

tickets and the hotels. It’s shocking, it is, especially as Celia

Cavendish is just the daughter of a businessman and married the title rather than being born to it. Mind you, they all think no one outside the family knows about it, but things

like that get out, don’t they?” She laughed. “Even Sir

George was a bit embarrassed, but not so embarrassed that

he opened his wallet and gave her any traveling money.”

Barnes nodded. He wondered if a desire to see the world

was a sufficient reason for murder. But as soon as the idea entered his head he realized he was being foolish; he’d seen murder done for a lot less reason than someone wanting a

trip to Italy.

“Will Sir George’s other daughters benefit as much as

Miss Charlotte?” he asked. He made a mental note to be

sure and verify any information he got from Mrs. Cobb with

the family solicitor.

“They’ll all get their fair share,” Mrs. Cobb replied.

“Mind you, there’s some that think Miss Nina will get a bit

more, seeing as how she’s been managing the money for the

past ten years.”

“But Sir George does have a will?” he pressed.

“Oh, yes, but it’ll make no difference, Miss Charlotte and

Miss Lucinda will still think that Miss Nina is hoodwinking them somehow. They had a fit when the master handed over the investment accounts to her. But he was a lazy old

sod, and as soon as he realized that Miss Nina knew as much

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about finances as them fancy financial advisers that was

chargin’ him an arm and a leg, he handed it all to her. Matter of fact, his banker and his broker were both due here that day. For some reason, the lawyers showed up instead.”

“Perhaps with Sir George’s death, someone cancelled the

appointment,” Barnes suggested.

Mrs. Cobb shrugged. “I suppose so. Is there anything

else you’re needin’ to ask me? I’ve got to get the funeral

baking started.”

Barnes shook his head. “We may have more questions for

you later, Mrs. Cobb, but for now, you can go on about your

business.”

“Inspector, Inspector Witherspoon!” Lucinda Braxton’s

shrill voice stopped him in his tracks as he came out of the

conservatory.

He looked up and saw her frantically waving at him from

an open window on the second floor. “Do hurry,” she called,

“I’ve not much time, and I must have a word with you.”

“Er, yes, ma’am.” He started for the door, wondering if

the woman was in her room and did she expect him to meet

her there. He supposed he ought to be glad for the chance to

speak to her at all, as neither she nor her sisters had been

available when he and Constable Barnes had arrived this

morning. He opened the door and stepped into the darkened hallway. A second later, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and then Lucinda Braxton came flying

around the corner and almost knocked him down. “Ye

Gods, man, watch where you’re going. Now listen, I’ve not

much time, and I must tell you something.”

Witherspoon was far too much of a gentleman to tell the

woman she’d bumped into him. “Yes, ma’am, what is it?”

Lucinda looked around, her expression furtive. “Char

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lotte hadn’t been to bed on the night that Father was

killed,” she hissed softly. “She’d been out of the house.”

“How do you know that?” he asked. He remembered

that Sir George’s middle daughter had been fully dressed

when the alarm was raised. He’d been planning on asking

her to explain why.

“Because I saw her coming home,” Lucinda replied. “It

was