Page 27 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"Yes," Emily lied, for she was not about to tell Mary about the almost-kiss in Lady Wilcox's garden, "And we are quite close to finding out who it truly was who killed Lady Hardthistle."
"Really?"
This time Mary's tone was one of definite excitement, and Emily knew that while her sister liked to play the part of a staid and steady duchess, she was still an excitable Cotswolds' girl at heart.
In a rushed whisper, Emily explained all that they knew so far. That both Mr Fitzgibbons and Sir Cadogan had professed a wish to strangle Lady Hardthistle, but only the former had an alibi. That Lord Chambers was convinced Ethel had something to do with it all, but that Emily was of a mind to think the squire the culprit.
"So, now, I am waiting for Lord Chambers to return and tell me what--if anything--he has learned from Sir Cadogan, whilst I am charged with finding out any gossip I can about Ethel. I tried to ask the servants here if they had heard any sorts of rumours or gossip, but they were no help."
"Yes," Mary wrinkled her nose in annoyance, "They're a rather boring lot. They've too much respect for Northcott to indulge in idle gossip. Hmm, I wonder..."
Mary waved her hand toward the plate of macaroons, and Emily pushed it across the table to her. She bit into one and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes, until at last a thought struck her.
"Lady Albermay!" Mary exclaimed, turning her eyes to Emily, "Her servants might have noted something on the night of the ball."
"Do you think?" Emily whispered, to which Mary shrugged.
"We'll never know, unless we ask. Come, help me up!"
Mary held out her hand and Emily duly obliged by hopping from her own seat to assist her sister to a stand. Mary's bump had grown progressively larger over the past few weeks, and soon it would be difficult to conceal.
"Fetch a pelisse and summon the carriage," Mary instructed, as she dashed towards the door, "And fetch me a shawl while you're at it."
"Where are you going?" Emily called after her.
"The water closet," came the faint reply.
Fifteen minutes later, the two sisters were ensconced inside a cosy carriage, which was trundling its way through the early afternoon traffic, on its way to Grosvenor Square. When the carriage drew up outside Albermay House, Mary sent a footman to the door with one of her calling cards. They were outside of what was usually considered acceptable calling hours, but the footman returned a few minutes later to inform them that Lady Albermay was "at home" to them.
Once inside, the Albermay's stoic butler led them to the drawing room, where the countess awaited them with a wide smile and tray laden with tea and French fancies.
"How kind you are to receive us, Lady Albermay," Mary stated, as she took a seat on an opulently upholsteredchaise longue.
"How kind you are to call," the countess replied brightly, as she began to pour the tea, "I don't get many visitors--old Alby says it's because I'm American, and if he hadn't married me, he'd avoid me too. Tart?"
Lady Albermay proffered a slice of apple-tart on a plate at Emily, who took it, grateful to have something to do with her hands. The countess' directness was rather unusual for an English drawing room, though Emily supposed it was better than polite chit-chat.
"Husbands can say the most tiresome things," Mary offered, sympathetically.
As Northcott near-worshiped the ground that his wife walked on, Emily supposed that her sister was just being polite, and trying to smooth over the countess' socialfaux-pas.
"I've said too much," Lady Albermay frowned, as she finally took a seat, "Gemini! I do let my mouth run away with me. Let's change the subject; how goes your murder investigation? I've been reading the news-sheets every morning in the hopes that I'll read the perpetrator has been found."
"That's one of the reasons we came," Mary answered, her eyes shining, "We were wondering if any of your staff might have noticed anything on the night?"
"The Runners did question them," the countess answered, frowning slightly as she tried to recall the events of that night, "And, from what I can remember, they didn't learn anything of note."
"Perhaps the Runners weren't asking the right questions," Emily interjected, keen to take the reigns back from Mary, who had--as usual--placed herself in charge. In a rushed whisper, Emily explained about Sir Cadogan and Ethel, and how she and Lord Chambers were trying to find information on either.
"I suspect if there's any gossip about Ethel that the servants will know it," Emily finished, to which Lady Albermay gave a delighted laugh.
"And, I suspect I know which one of my servants will be in possession of said gossip," she answered, before reaching over to the small table beside her chair for a bell. She gave it a loud ring and a maid appeared seconds later.
"Fetch Mrs Gordon," Lady Albermay instructed the footman who answered her call.
A few minutes later, a stout woman of about fifty years arrived, wearing the severe black uniform of a housekeeper.
"Do sit, Mrs Gordon," Lady Albermay bid the woman, who nervously perched herself on the edge of a chair. "Her Grace and Miss Mifford have some questions they would like to ask you, about the night of Lady Albermay's murder."
