Everyone burst out laughing. “Are you an actress in clothes borrowed off the stage?” one maid asked boldly.
“No. I really am the Countess of Calaway. My husband has solved many crimes, with my assistance.”
“Oh! I heard about him!” someone cried. “That’s true, that is! Can he really smell a criminal?”
“Can he do what? No. Of course not. He’s a man not a bloodhound although his ears do seem to be getting larger with age. Anyway, we are not even sure if a crime has been committed here.”
The standing woman sat down again with a thump, aware that the mood of the rest of the room was in favour of Adelia. She spoke with some authority, and Adelia guessed from her good clothing she was the housekeeper. “The police don’t seem to think so.”
“Really?”
The housekeeper shrugged. “And thank goodness for that, or we’d all be arrested and carted off. Half the maids have already run although the police caught two of them and brought them back. They are saying the meat was bad, which is why both of the men got ill.”
“And did any of you eat the meat?”
The housekeeper feigned shock and innocence. Adelia stayed silent and continued to stare at her.
Another maid said, “Tell her about the note, though.”
“What note?”
The housekeeper frowned and brushed imaginary crumbs off the table. “Look. What do you already know about the men, and what do you want to know? Because I am not sure we ought to be saying anything.”
“I know this: I know that Mr Nettles was a strange man, forceful in his opinions, no lover of the old order and the aristocracy. I know that he was very wealthy and it seems to me that you had a good living here.” Every maid was plump and fresh-faced. There was no shortage of food and no great pressure to work too hard, that much was plain. They had lost a good master, by the looks of it. “So you will feel loyalty to him and grief that he has gone, I am sure. But I also know,” Adelia said, firmly, “That no love was lost between Mr Nettles and Mr Wiseman. So what I really want to know is this: why was Mr Wiseman here at all?”
The housekeeper nodded to herself. “Very well. Janey, fetch the note, seeing as you just mentioned it and all.”
The maid scurried off and brought it to Adelia. It was written in a cursive and educated hand on good notepaper and it merely said, “We must meet. We have a common enemy.” It was signed by William Wiseman.
“Good heavens! When did this come?”
“The morning of the death. We found it when we were tidying up, afterwards, as the police came in but they stopped us from tidying up any more. I don’t know why we kept it. I suppose we ought to give it to the police but...” The housekeeper shook her head. “We didn’t do it right away and now it’s too late because it makes us look bad for not having said anything.”
“I understand. It would have made things complicated anyway. It’s better for you all if this is not considered murder, isn’t it?”
“Yes but that’s because it isn’t murder, is it?”
“I know for a fact that plenty of you will have sampled the same meat that both of those men ate and none of you are ill, are you?”
They shuffled and looked at one another and no one would confess but their discomfort was confirmation enough.
“Where was the meat bought from?” Adelia asked.
“Percival’s. He’s a good butcher.”
He was well known for serving the many of the great houses and his meat was considered to be of a high quality. “What else did they eat?” she pressed.
The housekeeper flapped her hands, clearly getting annoyed at the questions hinting at the possibility that poison was involved. “The usual things! A clear soup, some bread, neither wanted any fish, then meat and potatoes and green beans and leeks, stewed, some nice rich gravy, various condiments, plum pudding and sauce. Except of course, they did not get as far as the pudding.”
“And to drink?”
“A bottle of wine, which the police took as evidence because there was some left, but Reggie says he opened it in front of the gentlemen and poured it for them so I reckon as the police just wanted to drink the dregs. It was an expensive bottle.”
“Very well. And this note. Do you know to whom it refers?”
“Eh?”
“Who’s the common enemy?”
“Most people hated Mr Nettles, really, but not everyone was bold enough to admit it. He looked out for us common folk, you see. He wasn’t one of us but he was all right, in his way. Better than some,” the housekeeper added, pointedly.
Adelia folded up the note and tucked it away. Everyone stared at her expectantly as she opened her small bag. But she wasn’t carrying any money of her own; she never did when she was with Theodore. She got to her feet and was about to say she’d be back down with some coin for their troubles, but when they noticed she was not about to pay them straight away, the mood turned.
“Eh, so what are you doing now?”
“I am going to investigate this matter further.”
A few of them stood up. The housekeeper said, “There’s nothing to investigate. We ain’t murderers and don’t you dare try to say that we are!”
“I agree. I can’t imagine why you would want to kill him. You have a good life here – had, I should say. You’ll all be out soon enough.”
“Yes, no thanks to you!”
“What on earth have I done?” Adelia said in confusion as she backed to the door.
“Coming down here, accusing us!”
“I haven’t accused you of anything. I don’t believe any of you have done it.”
“Lady Muck, waltzing in, like you own the place, you all think you can do that. You didn’t even knock, did you?”
“I am sorry but...”
“Sorry don’t buy new shoes, though, does it?”
“I don’t think you’re guilty!”
“But
