You must tell Jack when next he calls.
If there is anything else, I shall tell you as soon as I hear it.
Your loving sister, Charlotte
Emily held the paper with tingling fingers. Her hands were numb and already her mind was racing. The woman in cerise! And the lady’s maid who had seen her in the York house in the middle of the night was now dead.
But they would never get beneath the smooth, supremely disciplined surface of the Yorks’ facade by going for the odd afternoon tea, or walking round the Winter Exhibition and exchanging a few slight confidences on fashion or gossip. Pitt had disturbed something much deeper than an old burglary, or the question of Veronica’s suitability to become the wife of Julian Danver. This was something of such passion and horror that even three years later it could erupt without warning into violence—and now, it seemed quite possible, murder.
They must get closer, much closer—in fact, they must get inside the Yorks’ home.
But how?
An idea occurred to her, but it was preposterous! It would never work. To start with, she would not be able to carry it off; she was sure to be found out immediately. They would know.
How would they know? It would be difficult—of course, it would—she would have to behave entirely differently, alter her appearance, her face, her hair, even her hands and her voice. An Englishwoman’s background could be identified by her voice the moment she spoke; no servant had those rounded vowels, the precise consonants, even if the grammar had been meticulously copied. But Veronica York would be needing a new lady’s maid, someone who would be there all the time, in the unguarded moments, someone who would see everything, as only those who are invisible can. And domestic servants are invisible.
Knowing it was absurd, Emily went on planning how it might be done. She had had a lady’s maid all her life— first her mother’s, then her own—and she knew the duties by heart. Some she would certainly not be very good at; she had never really tried to iron, but surely she could learn? She was rather good at doing hair; she and Charlotte had played at doing each other’s before they had been allowed to wear their hair up. She was adequate with a needle; there could not be all that much difference between embroidering and mending.
The difficulty—and the danger—would be in altering her manner so that she passed for a servant. What was the worst that could happen if she were discovered?
She would be dismissed, of course, but that hardly mattered. They would think she was a well-bred girl who had fallen into some sort of disgrace that necessitated taking a menial position. They would almost certainly assume she had had an illegitimate child, that was the kind of disgrace women fell into. It would be a humiliation, but a brief one. If they ever met her again as Lady Ashworth they would be unlikely to recognize her, because it would never occur to them that it was she; if it did, she could brazen it out. She would look daggers at them and suggest they had lost their wits to make such an offensive and tasteless suggestion.
As a lady’s maid she would not meet any guests to the house; she would never be asked to wait at table, or answer the door. Perhaps the idea was not so absurd after all. They would never discover who had murdered Robert York if they continued as they were. They were playing at it, touching the fringes, knowing there was a terrible passion under the conventional surface, but only throwing around guesses as to what it was, and whom it had pushed into murder. Inside the York house she could learn infinitely more.
She shivered suddenly, thinking of the danger. Being dismissed as a fallen woman would be nothing, a brief embarrassment. But if by some horrendous mischance they did recognize her as Emily Ashworth, they would assume she had taken leave of her senses, that George’s death had robbed her of her sanity. The scandal would be appalling! But there was no reason why that should happen.
No, the real danger was from the person who had already killed Robert York, and possibly Dulcie, killed her simply because she had seen or heard something. Emily would have to be exquisitely careful! She must pretend to be stupid, and innocent, and she must always, always guard her tongue.
The alternative was to give up—to go on sitting here in black, either alone or talking polite rubbish to the few people who called on her, until Caroline arranged some wretched committees for her to be righteous on. She would get nothing but secondhand reports from Charlotte. She would not contribute anything at all herself. Even Jack would be bored with her soon.
By the time Jack called at midmorning she had made the decision. Thank goodness she had not sent that wretched letter to Aunt Vespasia. She was going to need her help. She would call on her that afternoon.
“I’m going to the Yorks’,” she announced as soon as Jack came in.
“I don’t think you can do that, Emily,” he said with a slight frown.
“Oh, not socially!” She waved her hand, dismissing the notion. “Their lady’s maid saw Aunt Addie’s woman in cerise at the Yorks’ house as well, in the middle of the night. She told Thomas—and now she’s dead!”
“The maid?”
“Yes, of course the maid!” Emily said impatiently. “The woman in cerise has vanished, and she must have something to do with treason, and almost certainly Robert York’s murder. We must find out all we can, and we shan’t do that by calling for tea now and then.”
“What else? We can hardly walk in and start interrogating them,” Jack pointed out.
“Even if we could, that wouldn’t do any good.” Emily was excited now. Whatever Jack said it was not going to put her off. For the first time since George’s death she was going to do something totally outrageous, which he would certainly have forbidden, and she was glad there was no one who could command her obedience. “We must be subtle,” she continued. “We must observe them when they have no idea, and little by little they may betray themselves.”
He was at a loss to understand, and with delight she dropped her bombshell.
“I am going to take the position of lady’s maid! I shall write one reference myself, and get another from Great- aunt Vespasia.”
He was stunned. “Good God! You can’t! Emily, you can’t go as a servant!”
“Why not?”
