Page 21 of A Moveable Feast
I neared them just as Jane gave Daniel a hearty kick in the shin. Daniel winced, but his grip did not loosen.
“Stop,” I commanded Jane.
She swung to me, her eyes wild. “Mrs. Holloway, help me get away from ’im. ’E’s a madman.”
“No, he is not. He is a friend, and you need to cease.”
Jane’s surprise stilled her. “A friend?” She studied Daniel in distaste. “What sort of friends you got, Missus?”
“Very good ones,” I said. “Why are you trying to run, Jane? The sergeant will immediately suspect you’re guilty, when I know you are not.”
“Course I ain’t. Who says I am? I never stuck a knife in the young master. Why should I? I keep myself well away from the likes of ’im.”
“Exactly,” I said. “You were in view of me the whole time today, which I have already told Sergeant Scott. But taking flight will not help. Why did you run?”
Jane began to struggle again, but this was futile against Daniel’s strength. “Make ’im turn me loose,” she wailed.
“I think I’ll hang on to you a bit,” Daniel replied cheerfully.
Jane glared at me. “Are you a procuress? And here I thought you was pure as the driven snow.”
“Certainly not.” My tone was stern. “I am neither of those things.”
“Then why won’t you let me go? It ain’t your business, and I can be well away.”
“If the sergeant and inspector take it into their heads that you’re guilty, they’ll hunt for you across London and not stop until they find you,” I said. “You’ll never work again, and you’ll endanger any family or friends you run to.”
Jane stilled, as though she hadn’t considered this. That she hesitated to endanger loved ones raised her in my estimation.
“Tell me, at least, why you ran,” I went on. “We’ll decide what the sergeant needs to know.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t peach?”
“That rather depends. Have you been pinching things from the house?”
“No.” Her quick outrage made me believe her. “I ain’t a fool. I’d get the noose for that.”
“Then why?”
Jane went quiet in Daniel’s grip, though he was experienced enough not to release her. “I think her ladyship killed him,” Jane said mournfully. “Only, I don’t blame her, like. His young lordship was always so awful to her. I don’t want to say nuffink that will get her into trouble.”
I listened in surprise. I hadn’t thought Jane an admirer of Lady Babcock, though when I thought it through, she’d been more dismissive of Lord Babcock and his first wife. It had been Mrs. Morgan who’d told me the second Lady Babcock had been no better than a tart, and Mary who’d derided her.
“Why do you say this?” I asked Jane. “Except for the fact that Lord Alfred was rude to his stepmother, there must be another reason you suppose it.”
Jane cast a sidelong glance at Daniel. “Is this the Mr. McAdam you were talking about? The one you sent Tess out to find this morning?”
That she’d deduced this made my respect for her rise even more.
“At your service,” Daniel said in his most congenial tone. “You can tell us anything, Jane. We’re good at keeping things confidential.”
“You talk funny for a tramp,” Jane declared, then she heaved a resigned sigh. “All right, I’ll tell you. Her ladyship and Cook have been arguing back and forth all week, going into corners and speaking sharply, arms waving. I caught sight of her ladyship with Mrs. Morgan in the larder, and her ladyship never comes below stairs. Mrs. Morgan went upstairs a time or two as well, which ain’t usual. I expected Mrs. Morgan to get the sack any day, but then she grows powerful sick. And now …” Jane’s voice grew thick with tears. “I ain’t staying in a house where the family murders each other and poisons the staff.”
I could not argue this last point. “If you believe her ladyship did these things, why do you not want to tell the police?”
“’Cause she’s been kind to me, hasn’t she?” Jane turned to me pleadingly. “She made old Seabrook hire me, when I didn’t have nowhere to go. Her ladyship caught me shivering on the street steps and told me to go into the kitchen, eat something, and then help out a while. That were about a year ago—I been here ever since. Seabrook tells us not to speak poorly of her ladyship, but she don’t like her, that’s certain. I had to pretend I felt the same, in spite of her ladyship’s charity to me, so I could keep on Seabrook’s good side.” She sagged. “I try not to talk about her at all.”
An interesting tale. It sounded as though Lady Babcock indeed had a kind heart beneath her vacant expression. Even if Lady Babcock had not, in fact, laced the tea with morphine, she’d been concerned enough about her cook, despite their quarrels, to look in on her.
