“I can’t think of any reason at all. I don’t think there is even very much money.”
“Don’t be squalid.” Emily’s mouth turned down at the corners.
“People have been known to kill for money,” Charlotte pointed out.
Emily ignored her, which expressed her opinion very clearly.
“Blue gown,” Charlotte repeated.
“I’m thinking! I haven’t seen Eudora in blue. She prefers warm colors and greens. I don’t think blue would suit her.” She shrugged. “Not that that means she wouldn’t wear it, of course. People wear the most awful things sometimes. Do you remember Hetty Appleby, with the mouse-colored hair, wearing yellow? She looked like a cheese!”
“No.”
“Really, you are so unobservant sometimes,” Emily said in disgust. “I don’t know how you are ever the least use to Thomas.”
“Justine wore cream with blue,” Charlotte replied.
“I think we agreed Justine had no earthly reason. And I remember now, Iona wore blue, dark blue like the sea at night. All very romantic. Fergal Moynihan could hardly take his eyes off her.”
“He’d have been like that whatever she wore. We’d better go and look at their shoes.”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
“Because Iona will be in her room, for a start,” Emily pointed out. “We can hardly interrupt her and say ‘Please may we look through your wardrobe to see if we can find a pair of blue-heeled slippers, because we think you were wearing them when you killed Ainsley Greville in his bath?’ ”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You go when we are all at luncheon,” Emily commanded. “I shall keep everyone occupied at the table. You excuse yourself, blame a headache or something.”
“What do you mean ‘keep everybody occupied’?” Charlotte said with a touch of sarcasm. “If they are at luncheon, they will be occupied anyway.”
“I’ll see they don’t leave. I can’t very well plead a headache, even if I have a real one. What’s the matter? Are you afraid?”
“No, of course not,” Charlotte replied indignantly. “I don’t want it to be Eudora, for Thomas’s sake, and I don’t want it to be Justine, because I like her.”
“I don’t want it to be anybody,” Emily agreed. “Because I think Ainsley Greville was a complete bounder. But wanting has nothing to do with it.”
“I know that! I’ll find the slippers during luncheon.”
When Pitt had left her, Grade’s brief moment of feeling better vanished. There was only one good thing about it. She was quite sure the “maid” she had seen was not Doll Evans. She had not been tall enough for Doll, she was sure of that now. And she did not think Doll would take anyone’s shoes, but if she had worn slippers with heels like that, she would have been even taller. Only now did she realize how afraid she had been that Doll had gone into the bathroom and hit Greville over the head and then pulled him under the water. She had certainly had provocation. Gracie had no sympathy with Ainsley Greville at all. Anyone who could do that to a girl, and to his own child, deserved a lot of pain in return. It was just a pity so many other people had to suffer as well. But maybe nobody ever suffered without taking other people with them.
She could not keep Finn from her mind. His pain engulfed her. Disillusion was one of the hardest things to bear. If he had been so wrong about the murder of Neassa Doyle and what he believed of his own people, then what else had he been wrong about? What else was lies? If they could murder their own sister, who and what were they? What was the cause they were really fighting for? If Finn had given so much of his emotional loyalty to them, how could he cope with it if they were unworthy of him, or of anyone? How much of it all was lies?
He must be asking himself that now. He would be terribly alone and confused. In one brief quarter hour or so, she had robbed him of his lifetime’s beliefs, belonging to his people, loyalties, angers, all that he thought he was. She should not have done that. Some truths should be told gently, maybe even little by little.
She had no urgent jobs. Charlotte’s clothes were all in excellent repair. And Charlotte certainly did not want Gracie to sit and talk to her, read to her, which was sometimes a real lady’s maid’s job. Charlotte always had more to do than she had time for anyway. But then her life was not like that of a lady. Gracie would find it terrible to look after real gentry after the excitement of being with the Pitts. How did people like Gwen and Doll bear the sameness of it?
She should go and find Finn and make up her quarrel with him. He would need all the friendship she could offer now. And she wanted to apologize. She had acted without thinking hard enough.
The decision was made. She left the ironing room and went to look for him.
He was not in any of the places where he would normally be carrying out his duties. She did not like to ask for him. It was bad enough to imagine people knew how she felt. She was painfully self-conscious. She knew how observant she was of other people’s behavior. There was rather a lot to be said for working with only a casual woman who came in to do the “heavy,” as she did at home. One had a great deal more privacy, even if there was less company, and most of the time less day-to-day interest in others. All told, it was better.
After three quarters of an hour searching, inside and out, there was only one place left, his bedroom. She had never been there, of course. But perhaps on this extraordinary occasion it would be the best place. Even if she were caught, Charlotte would not dismiss her for such a thing when Gracie explained to her why she had gone there. And McGinley couldn’t dismiss Finn because he was dead anyway, poor creature. The worst thing that could happen would be the others whispering and laughing. And even that would be better than leaving Finn to suffer his loss and disillusion without telling him she was sorry.
She looked very carefully to see there was no one around before she ran up the first staircase. The regular Ashworth Hall servants had the rooms nearest the stairhead; the senior ones had the best, naturally. The footmen, bootboy and the like had the smaller ones, further away. Visiting valets and other servants were another floor up again, right under the roof.
But which was Finn’s room? Think! Everything in the servants’ hall went by order of precedence. The servants went in to dinner, sat down, were served, even served the sweet, in order of the importance of their masters. That would make Mr. Wheeler the most senior up here. He belonged to Mr. Greville, the chairman of this miserable conference. Who was next? Be quick! Mustn’t get caught up here. No one was going to believe she was stupid enough to be lost.
Mr. Doyle and Mr. O’Day. That meant Finn and Mr. Moynihan’s valet would be further away, then probably Tellman. The thought of running into Tellman by mistake was enough to knot up her stomach so tight she could hardly breathe!
Maybe it was not worth it after all?
Come on! Don’t be a coward! Take a chance. Try one. Don’t just stand here like one of the pieces of statuary in the garden! Knock!
There was no answer.
She tried the next one, her hands shaking.
There was a moment’s silence, then footsteps.
Her heart was beating so loudly it seemed to pound in her ears.
The door opened. It was Finn.
Thank heavens! Now, what was she going to say?
“I’m sorry!” she burst out.
“Gracie!” He looked startled, and momentarily confused, uncertain what to say or do.
“I’m sorry I told you about Chinnery,” she explained. If she did not say it now she might lose her courage. “I shouldn’t oughter said it out like that. Perhaps maybe I shouldn’t oughter said it at all. One lie don’t make the ’ole cause wrong.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes wide and puzzled.