Murder's a funny thing. It won't let you test. It would make you feel a bit funny to have had a hand in murder. You'd keep remembering, thinking of the one you'd killed. I wouldn't like to be no murderer.
Did she murder the first Mrs. Masterman? Or did he?
Overdose of a drug she took for sleeplessness. Nobody knew where she'd got it from. Nobody knew she'd been taking it When people took overdoses of drugs just in time to let Their husbands marry girls who were in trouble, you couldn't help sitting up and taking notice. You couldn't help feeling this delicious creepy feeling all over you.
"Sickly?" prompted Katharine.
"Always ill.”
"Did Papa love her very much?”
"Now how should I know?”
"You would know. Were you in the kitchen then?”
"Yes I was then.”
"You must have known, Margery. You know everything.”
Such flattery was irresistible.
"And what if I did?”
"Then you shouldn't say you didn't know!”
"If I have any cheek from you, Miss, I'll get down the whip over the mantel.”
"That's for convicts, Margery, not for me.”
"Well, and are you so far removed from convicts...”
"What, Margery?" . It was getting dangerous, but Margery liked danger.
"What do you mean, Margery? I'm not so far removed...”
"One man's as good as another. Miss. That's what I mean.”
"A convict is as good as a free man?”
"As a man he might be.”
As a man! What did she mean? Intriguing Margery!
"Oh, I like talking to you!" She put her arms round Margery's neck.
"Here, steady! Trying to strangle me?”
"You smell of grog.”
"Well, and it's a good thing to smell of.”
"My Mamma smells of violets.”
"I've no doubt she does. There's some that gets on better than others in this world.”
"Do you mean Mamma got on better than you? Is that why she smells of violets and you smell of grog?”
Sharp as a packet of needles, this child was. I wish she was mine.
Golly, wouldn't I love her. A regular one she'll be when she grows up; she'll be the honey and the men will be the flies. I reckon I see a nice match being made up there for her. Madame Carolan will want the best for her daughter. And where would she be, eh, if the first Mrs.
Masterman hadn't died at exactly the right minute! Did she do it? Or did she egg him on to do it? Not the master! I wouldn't believe that of the master. But her ... "Your Mamma did get on better than me.”
"You mean when the First Wife died, she married my Papa. If he had married you, would you have smelt of violets?”
Margery came as near to blushing as she could. The idea of the master so far forgetting himself as to marry her!
There was never any question of your father's marrying me, you silly baby!" she said angrily.
There was only a question of his marrying my Mamma?”
"Of course. What do you take him for! He was never one for running after the women.”
"Wasn't he, Margery?”
"He married, and there was an end of it.”
"No it wasn't, Margery. There was the First Wife, and then there was Mamma.”
"You're too sharp by half!”
"Margery, where was Mamma when he was married to the First Wife?”
She was getting to know too much. If Margery let out that her precious Mamma was an ex-convict, there'd be the very devil to pay. And I wouldn't want to come up against Madame Carolan, no. thank you. At present there was a mocking affection between them, a little light blackmail practised by them both. Margery often thought, when the mistress came to the kitchen to give her orders and across the table their eyes met. Why, I could tell a few things to those children of yours. I could tell 'em how you first come to my kitchen, a shivering, lousy scrap with your loveliness hid in filth; I could whisper outside how you was always up in the mistress's room aye, and in the master's room too. I could give a few hints that it was more than likely you had something to do with that sudden death of hers.
And Carolan's green eyes said I could tell what you were up to down here ... James creeping into the basement... The way you used to squirm and wriggle on that bed ... in front of the others. Who is it now? Not James, for he's married to Jin, and she doubtless keeps him in order by showing him the knife she wears concealed in her clothes. But there is someone. The master would not want that sort of thing going on in his basement!
No, by God he wouldn't! And when it goes on upstairs it's different, eh? Even when it's necessary to put a poor sick lady out of the way to straighten things out! Not that Margery'd tell. Why, she'd half murder anyone who hinted a word of it ... anyone from outside. Her master and mistress were the best in Sydney, she'd maintain. And without a doubt it was upstairs Madame Carolan belonged, not down here in the kitchen. Still, there was no harm in thinking about it when you were in your own kitchen, even though sometimes it did give you a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach to think you had, in a way, had a hand in it.
But now this little imp had stumbled on something. Surely the most inquisitive child that ever was. So pretty though ... you could eat her, bless her... and fond of old Margery too.
"Margery, where was Mamma__? You know...”
Now that would be dangerous. Keep off that!
"How should I know? A man's second wife don't usually put in an appearance till his first's dead and buried.”
That satisfied her, made her pensive.
"She lived on the first floor, didn't she ?”
"Who?”
The First Wife.”
"Well, yes... she did.”
"I know what it is. Mamma's afraid.”
"Afraid? What of?”
Katharine leaned right over and whispered to Margery, because Poll's mop was getting nearer and nearer.
"Of her ghost!”
Margery was very superstitious; she began to tremble like a jelly.
Could it really be? What did the child know? There was something in the house ... come to think of it, had been for a long time ... She couldn't lay a name to it, couldn't explain it. Just something... "Did she tell you?”
"Oh, no! She pretended it wasn't. You see, I was there.”
"What's this?”
"I was hiding in the bed and I had the curtains drawn, and poor Mamma thought I was the ghost.”
Margery drew a deep breath.
"You were trying to frighten your poor Mamma. I hope she spanked you hard.”
"She didn't.”
"She's saving it up for your Papa to do when he comes home.”
"She isn't; she laughed. But, Margery, when she came in she must have heard me behind the curtains; she thought I was a ghost... the First Wife!”
"How did you know?”
"I did know, Margery. Perhaps ... the First Wife lived down there, didn't she? And she wouldn't like Mamma being Papa's wife now. First Wives don't, do they?”
"You know too much!”
Margery got to her feet.
"Here, Poll, going to take all day to swab this floor? You're too slow by half! You'll be feeling the whip about your shoulders, my girl...”
She wasn't really thinking of Poll, nor of the floor swabbing, nor of the whip. Madame Carolan had looked frightened, had she! Why? She wasn't the sort to show fear without a reason. The first Mrs.
Masterman ... Margery couldn't remember much what she looked like.
Sickly. Fair. Suppose ... Oh, just suppose ... She had died sudden, hadn't she! People who'd been wronged came back to haunt them that had wronged them, didn't they? And Margery had had a hand in it ... what you might call an innocent hand. She knew nothing of a drug. It wasn't likely she'd murder a woman just so as another woman could have her husband! But hadn't she thrown Esther to that Marcus, and because of that hadn't Madame Carolan gone to the master!