Hester took the opportunity to rise early the following day and find herself small tasks around the kitchen and laundry in the hope of improving her acquaintance with some of the other servants-and whatever knowledge they might have. Even if the pieces seemed to them to be meaningless, to Monk they might fit with other scraps to form a picture.
Annie and Maggie were chasing each other up the stairs and falling over in giggles, stuffing their aprons in their mouths to stop the sound from carrying along the landing.
'What's entertained you so early?' Hester asked with a smile.
They both looked at her, wide-eyed and shaking with laughter.
'Well?' Hester said, without criticism in her tone. 'Can't you share it? I could use a joke myself.'
'Mrs. Sandeman,' Maggie volunteered, pushing her fab-hair out of her eyes. 'It's those papers she's got, miss. You never seen anything like it, honest, such tales as'd curdle your blood-and goings-on between men and women as'd make a street girl blush.'
'Indeed?' Hester raised her eyebrows. 'Mrs. Sandeman has some very colorful reading?'
'Mostly purple, I'd say.' Annie grinned.
'Scarlet,' Maggie corrected, and burst into giggles again.
'Where did you get this?' Hester asked her, holding the paper and trying to keep a sober face.
“Out of her room when we cleaned it,' Annie replied with transparent innocence.
“At this time in the morning?'' Hester said doubtfully. 'It's only half past six. Don't tell me Mrs. Sandeman is up already?'
'Oh no. 'Course not. She doesn't get up till lunchtime,' Maggie said quickly. 'Sleeping it off, I shouldn't wonder.'
'Sleeping what off?' Hester was not going to let it go. 'She wasn't out yesterday evening.'
“She gets tiddly in her room,'' Annie replied.”Mr. Thirsk brings it to her from the cellar. I dunno why; I never thought he liked her. But I suppose he must do, to pinch port wine for her-and the best stuff too.'
'He takes it because he hates Sir Basil, stupid!' Maggie said sharply. 'That's why he takes the best. One of these days Sir Basil's going to send Mr. Phillips for a bottle of old port, and there isn't going to be any left. Mrs. Sandeman's drunk it all.'
'I still don't think he likes her,' Annie insisted. 'Have you seen the way his eyes are when he looks at her?''
'Perhaps he had a fancy for her?' Maggie said hopefully, a whole new vista of speculation opening up before her imagination. 'And she turned him down, so now he hates her.'
'No.' Annie was quite sure. 'No, I think he despises her. He used to be a pretty good soldier, you know-I mean something special-before he had a tragic love affair.'
'How do you know?' Hester demanded. 'I'm sure he didn't tell you.'
' 'Course not. I heard 'er ladyship talking about it to Mr. Cyprian. I think he thinks she's disgusting-not like a lady should be at all.' Her eyes grew wider. 'What if she made an improper advance to him, and he was revolted and turned her down?'
'Then she should hate him,' Hester pointed out.
'Oh, she does,' Annie said instantly. 'One of these days she'll tell Sir Basil about him taking the port, you'll see. Only maybe she'll be so squiffy by then he won't believe her.'
Hester seized the opportunity, and was half ashamed of doing it.
'Who do you think killed Mrs. Haslett?'
Their smiles vanished.
'Well, Mr. Cyprian's much too nice, an' why would he anyway?' Annie dismissed him. 'Mrs. Moidore never takes that much notice of anyone else to hate them. Nor does Mrs. Sandeman-'
'Unless Mrs. Haslett knew something disgraceful about her?' Maggie offered. 'That's probably it. I reckon Mrs. Sandeman would stick a knife into you if you threatened to split on her.'
'True,' Annie agreed. Then her face sobered and she lost all the imagination and the banter. 'Honestly, miss, we think it's likely Percival, who has airs about himself in that department, and fancied Mrs. Haslett. Thinks he's one dickens of a fellow, he does.'
'Thinks God made him as a special gift for women.' Maggie sniffed with scorn. ' 'Course there's some daft enough to let him. Then God doesn't know much about women, is all I can say.'
'And Rose,' Annie went on. 'She's got a real thing for Percival. Really taken bad with him-the more fool her.'
'Then why would she kill Mrs. Haslett?' Hester asked.
'Jealousy, of course.' They both looked at her as if she were slow-witted.
Hester was surprised. 'Did Percival really have that much of a fancy for Mrs. Haslett? But he's a footman, for goodness' sake.'
'Tell him that,' Annie said with deep disgust.
Nellie, the little tweeny maid, came scurrying up the stairs with a broom in one hand and a pail of cold tea leaves in the other, ready to scatter them on the carpets to lay the dust.
'Why aren't you sweeping?' she demanded, looking at the two older girls. 'If Mrs. Willis catches me at eight and we 'aven't done this it'll be trouble. I don't want to go to bed without me tea.'
The housekeeper's name was enough to galvanize both the girls into instant action, and they left Hester on the landing while they ran downstairs for their own brooms and dusters.
In the kitchen an hour later, Hester prepared a breakfast tray for Beatrice, just tea, toast, butter and apricot preserve. She was thanking the gardener for one of the very last of the late roses for the silver vase when she passed Sal, the red-haired kitchen maid, laughing loudly and nudging the footman from
next door, who had sneaked over, ostensibly with a message from his cook for hers. The two of them were flirting with a lot of poking and slapping on the doorstep, and Sal's loud voice could be heard up the scullery steps and along the passage to the kitchen.
'That girl's no better than she should be,' Mrs. Boden said with a shake of her head. 'You mark my words- she's a trollop, if ever I saw one. Sal!' she shouted. “Come back in here and get on with your work!' She looked at Hester again. 'She's an idle piece. It's a wonder how I put up with her. I don't know what the world's coming to.' She picked up the meat knife and tested it with her finger. Hester looked at the blade and swallowed with a shiver when she thought that maybe it was the knife someone had held in his hands creeping up the stairs in the night to stab Octavia Haslett to death.
Mrs. Boden found the edge satisfactory and pulled over the slab of steak to begin slicing it ready for the pie.
'What with Miss Octavia's death, and now policemen creeping all over the house, everyone scared o' their own shadows, 'er ladyship took to 'er bed, and a good-for-nothing baggage like Sal in my kitchen-it's enough to make a decent woman give up.'
'I'm sure you won't,' Hester said, trying to soothe her. If she was going to be responsible for luring two housemaids away, she did not want to add to the domestic chaos by encouraging the cook to desert as well. 'The police will go in time, the whole matter will be settled, her ladyship will recover, and you are quite capable of disciplining Sal. She cannot be the first wayward kitchen maid you've trained into being thoroughly competent-in time.'
'Well now, you're right about that,' Mrs. Boden agreed. 'I 'ave a good 'and with girls, if I do say so myself. But I surely wish the police would find out who did it and arrest them. I don't sleep safe in my bed, wondering. I just can't believe anyone in the family would do such a thing. I've been in this house since before Mr. Cyprian was born, never mind Miss Octavia and Miss Araminta. I never did care a great deal for Mr. Kellard, but I expect he has his qualities, and he is a gentleman, after all.'
'You think it was one of the servants?' Hester affected
surprise, and considerable respect, as though Mrs. Boden's opinion on such matters weighed heavily with her.
'Stands to reason, don't it?' Mrs. Boden said quietly, slicing the steak with expert strokes, quick, light and extremely powerful. 'And it wouldn't be any of the girls-apart from anything else, why would they?'
'Jealousy?' Hester suggested innocently.
