Page 80 of Beyond the Grave
"Of course. Jealous that his wife loved his brother more. Jealous that Andrew could father a child, while he cannot."
"My lady," I said loudly, to penetrate Marguerite's fog. "Doyouthink your husband killed Mr. Buchanan?"
Her rocking became more furious. She slammed back into the seat so hard the entire cabin vibrated. She must have heard me but she didn't answer.
"She came along to speak to you without informing him," Edgecombe drawled. "And she wouldn't be behaving like that if she thought him innocent." He leaned forward and handed her the bottle. "Take this, Margie. It'll calm your nerves."
She shook her head.
"Perhaps a cup of tea," I said.
She screwed her hands into her skirts and nodded.
"My man Dawkins will help you." Edgecombe thumped the ceiling, and his sister jumped. "Dawkins! Assist Miss Holloway." To us he added, "He's not as good as my previous fellow, but he should be able to manage a few teacups."
I was about to protest when I decided it might be a good opportunity to speak to him. Sometimes servants knew more about the goings-on in a house than their masters.
Dawkins was a stocky fellow with a thick chest and arms that would come in useful when carrying Edgecombe up and down stairs. Despite a heavy brow which shadowed small eyes, he had a rather mischievous mouth that curved up in a smile as he introduced himself to me while we walked.
"Couldn't get out of there fast enough, eh?" he asked as we climbed the front steps.
"The meeting is not quite going as expected."
"Let me guess." He held the door open for me. "Edgecombe's calling his sister names and she's shrinking into the corner so's she can get as far away from him as possible. That's how it generally goes at Emberly. I don't expect it to be much different in London."
"That sounds like an unpleasant household."
"It ain't a picnic. Between the mad toffs and the arse licking butler, it's a wonder any of the servants stay."
"Why do you?"
"I only just started and the wages are good. Very good. Prob'ly because no one else'll do what I do." He laughed an easy laugh that lifted his ponderous features. "It ain't much of a lark taking care of Edgecombe."
We headed into the kitchen where only Cook greeted us. Seth and Gus were elsewhere, running errands for Lincoln. I introduced them then we set about preparing the tea.
"What do you know about Lord Harcourt's missing brother?" I asked Dawkins.
He shrugged. "Never met him. He went missing before I started with Edgecombe."
"Have you heard any rumors?"
"Only that he's missing, maybe dead, after he visited Emberly. I hear he's got an eye for the lassies. The maids are all crying into their aprons and her ladyship's fretting."
"What about Lord Harcourt? Does he seem worried to you?"
"Don't know. I only just met him afore he left for London."
"What about Mr. Edgecombe? How does he seem to you?"
"Bloody-minded, angry and drunk. He's a task master, that one. Always yelling at me to carry him here, push him there, fetch this, do that, and calling me names too. If he weren't paying this good, I'd leave him outside in the rain."
Cook handed me the teapot. "I'd be bad tempered too, if I couldn't use me legs."
"Ain't no excuse to be a curmudgeon, in my book. Only time I get peace is when he's asleep. Thank God and Dr. Turcott for the sleeping draft. Knocks him right out, as good as dead."
We returned to the carriage and handed out cups of tea. Mr. Edgecombe refused, holding up his bottle, until I snatched it off him.
"Tea is better for the body and soul," I told him.
