Page 27 of Evidence of Evil
“Take it as truth and see what you come up with.”
*
Dr. Darcy Laingdrummed his fingers on his desk, thinking over his interview with the very odd Mr. and Mrs. Grey. The woman’s insensitivity to disgusting matters like murder, blood, and internal organs offended him. What was her husband thinking of to let her near such discussions?
And what on earth was their interest in the matter? What did they imagine they could learn that the police could not?
A brief knock on the door heralded the arrival of his apprentice, Harold Murray. Recently graduated from the medical school at Edinburgh University, he was gaining experience by assisting Laing.
“Who are they?” Murray asked, jerking his head toward the front of the house, where he had, probably, seen the Greys leaving.
“Guests of the Maules. They seem to have taken it upon themselves to prove Lady Maule’s innocence in the matter of Miss Niall’s death.”
“I wish them luck,” Murray said stoutly. “For I can’t believe so gentle a creature could possibly have done such a thing.”
Laing cast him a tired, twisted smile. “We don’t even know what thethingwas. But you are right. Whatever it was, I am certain Lady Maule is the least likely culprit. It is possible, of course, that no one is to blame. Sudden death for no reason may be rare, but it does happen.”
“Oh, there’s always a reason,” Murray replied. He could be annoyingly pompous for an apprentice. “It’s just that we don’t always know enough to understand what it is.”
“We didn’t miss anything, did we?” Laing said. “At least, not after my initial failure.”
“That was understandable,” Murray said. “Such examinations seem an intolerable invasion when the subject is known to us.”
“I’m glad you were there,” Laing said.
“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t been,” Murray said. “I’m not sure I made things any better.”
“Not so far,” Laing said heavily. “But if thereisa killer, we have to find him. Or her.”
*
Before luncheon, Constanceextracted Solomon’s promise not to approach Sir Humphrey concerning his “almost engagement” to Frances until she had the chance to speak first to Elizabeth.
This proved to be more difficult than she had imagined. After washing her hands in her room—Solomon was obligingly absent—she went down early for luncheon in the hope of a tête-à-tête. She found Elizabeth easily enough in the bright, comfortable morning room, but she was not alone.
Mrs. Haslett, the housekeeper, sat on the opposite side of the desk, her back to the door, so she did not see Constance enter. They appeared to be discussing menus for the coming week. Or at least Mrs. Haslett was discussing them, explaining in a highly patronizing manner why the vegetables or sauces of the main course did not work together, and how the courses themselves were ill balanced.
Elizabeth, trying to appear patient, looked merely harassed. Yet the look she cast Constance when she noticed her held moreshame than irritation. Which was ridiculous. Mrs. Haslett was being needlessly obstructive, merely exercising her contempt for the second Lady Maule. And Elizabeth must have been putting up with this for well over an hour. She probably did so every week. And who knew how many other obstacles the woman put in her way, just because she thought she could?
God knew why Elizabeth was putting up with it. Constance had already had enough. Rather than leaving her friend in private purgatory, she bustled into the room, saying, “Goodness, Elizabeth, I thought you had decided on your menus already? Let me drag you away from this tedium. You know your meals are always delightful.”
Elizabeth rose quickly. “Yes, perhaps that is enough for today, Mrs. Haslett. Tell me about your morning, Constance.”
Mrs. Haslett, finally dismissed, took her time about departing, collecting all her pen-marked papers together. They reminded Constance of a piece of substandard schoolwork. She waited in silence while the woman walked in a leisurely fashion to the door, as if she still imagined herself victor of the field, and queen of the menus.
“My dear,” Constance drawled to Elizabeth, not troubling to lower her voice, “has she truly nothing better to do? I know you have.”
A sniff preceded the click of the closing door.
“I do,” Elizabeth said wearily. “The woman grows more difficult by the day. Nothing I do, or order to be done, is ever right.”
“Elizabeth, you were brought up to run a household! Her place is to carry out your wishes, not dispute the minutiae.Youtaughtmethat.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I know, but it isn’t that simple. I was the governess and I’m not good enough for Sir Humphrey.”
“Again, not her place.”
“No, but she has been with his family forever and Humphrey wouldn’t like me to dismiss her. I expect all the other servants would give notice too if I did. I thought if I just deferred to her a little, she would be flattered enough to come round to me in the end, but she never gives an inch, never stops…”
