‘No, I don’t think she will be punished,’ Blackstone said.
And he meant it, for while she was certainly guiltier than Jenny had been, her guilt weighed less than a feather when compared to that of the man who had murdered O’Brien, and the man who had ordered his murder.
Boone nodded, apparently satisfied by the answer. ‘There are positions in this household that some people would almost kill for,’ the butler said. ‘Footmen, coachmen, valet, lady’s maid and the like. But there are also jobs, and some of them are so vile that even a starving immigrant, straight off the boat, would think twice about taking them. That’s why we sometimes fill some of those jobs with young girls from the orphanage.’
‘Because they have no choice?’ Blackstone asked.
‘Because they have no choice,’ Boone confirmed.
‘And Nancy Greene had one of those jobs?’
‘Yes, she did. She was a scullery maid, which is just about the lowest of the low. The scullery maid is the first one up in the morning, lighting the kitchen boilers, and she’s the last one to bed, after she’s finished cleaning up after everybody. She doesn’t eat with the rest of the servants. What she gets given is the rest of the staff’s leftovers. Now you might say that isn’t fair — and I’d agree with you — but that’s the way things have always been run, and it will take a better man than me to change them.’
‘She must have hated it,’ Blackstone said.
‘She probably did,’ Boone agreed. ‘But if she did, she was too smart to show it.’
‘Smart?’
‘Resentful scullery maids remain scullery maids for ever. But the ones who cheerfully tackle whatever task they’re given are the ones who get chosen for promotion — and Nancy had understood that within a couple of days of arriving here. She was ambitious, you see, and I did all I could to fuel that ambition.’
‘How?’
‘In all kinds of little ways. I’d compliment her on any work she’d done particularly well. I’d slip her the odd fifty cents once in a while. But most importantly, I made quite sure that when she was entitled to see her friend Jenny, she did see her friend Jenny.’
‘I’m not sure I follow you,’ Blackstone admitted.
‘All servants are allowed half a day off once a week, but only if they can be spared without it affecting the smooth running of the household. And because Nancy was such a good little worker, Cook was always finding reasons she couldn’t be spared, so that in the end, I had to put my foot down.’
‘And you did that so she could see Jenny?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Jenny had landed herself a cushy little job. It wasn’t in a grand house like this is, but she was comfortable enough. And I wanted her to be an example for Nancy — a reminder of what she could become if she stuck at it.’
Blackstone laughed. ‘So much for the stern and unyielding butler,’ he said. ‘You’re nothing but a pussycat in disguise.’
‘Oh, I can be stern and unyielding when I need to be,’ Boone said seriously. ‘If you don’t believe me, just ask the staff. But when you see a kid like Nancy, you just want to help her.’
‘So what went wrong?’ Blackstone asked.
Boone sighed. ‘I went down to the kitchen one morning about three weeks ago, and she’d simply disappeared.’
‘And why do you think that was?’
‘I don’t know,’ Boone admitted. ‘But if I had to guess, I’d say that one day, when she was out walking with Jenny, she met a man — and that eventually this man persuaded her to run away with him. It happens from time to time — and it nearly always ends badly.’
‘Do you think it’s possible that any of the servants know more than you do?’ Blackstone asked.
‘It’s possible,’ Boone said. ‘Though if they do know, they won’t tell me.’ He took another sip of his port. ‘But I suppose there’s a chance they might open up to you, an outsider, as long as I promise them that whatever they tell you will never get back to me.’
‘And would you do that?’ Blackstone asked.
‘Why not?’ Boone replied. ‘I can’t get Nancy out of whatever trouble she’s landed herself in, but you might just be able to. And from the impression I’ve formed of you, I think that if it’s humanly possible for you to help her, you will. Am I wrong about that?’
‘No,’ Blackstone said. ‘You’re not wrong.’
TWENTY
The girl’s name was Florence. She had a sallow complexion, thin, pinched features, and narrow, distrustful eyes. She was a scullery maid, as Nancy had been. But it did not take Blackstone long, as he sat across the table from her, to work out that she was the other kind of scullery maid that Boone had talked about — the sort who would never get on.
‘Cook told me that you were a friend of Nancy Greene’s, Florence,’ Blackstone said. ‘Is that right?’
The girl sniffed. ‘I suppose I was. She used to help me with my work, when I was fallin’ behind.’
Blackstone smiled at her, though he didn’t find it easy. ‘And I suppose that you helped her with her work, when she was falling behind?’ he asked.
‘Nancy never fell behind,’ Florence said resentfully. ‘Nancy always managed to finish her work in plenty of time.’
‘And while you were working side-by-side, did you talk to each other?’ Blackstone asked.
Florence sniffed again. ‘Not allowed to talk when we’re working. It’s one of the rules.’
‘But I’ll wager the pair of you broke that rule now and again, didn’t you?’ Blackstone cajoled.
‘Maybe.’
‘And when that happened, did Nancy tell you things?’
‘Tell me things? Like what?’
‘Like, for example, what she did when she went out for a walk with her friend, Jenny, who she’d known at the orphanage?’
Florence’s eyes narrowed even further, as if she was expecting some kind of trap.
‘They didn’t do nothin’,’ she said. ‘They walked. What else can you do, when you ain’t got no money?’
‘You did hear Mr Boone say that whatever you told me wouldn’t get back to him, didn’t you?’ Blackstone asked.
‘Yes.’
‘So you can speak freely. You can tell me anything that Nancy told you. I promise that it won’t hurt her. It may even be to her advantage. Do you understand that?’
Florence looked down at the table. ‘Yes.’
‘So let me ask you again. What did Nancy do when she was out walking? Did she meet anybody?’
‘Might have done.’
‘Don’t you want to help her?’ Blackstone asked, exasperated.
Florence looked up.
‘No,’ she said, with a sudden fierceness entering her voice. ‘Why should I want to help her? She’s abandoned me, ain’t she? She’s out there livin’ high on the hog, an’ I’m still stuck here. An’ it’s even worse for me now than it used to be, because she ain’t here to give me a hand.’
‘So you don’t want to help her,’ Blackstone said resignedly. ‘But maybe you’d like to help yourself.’
‘How do you mean?’
Blackstone took two dollar bills and one $5 dollar bill — Meade’s money — out of his pocket, and laid them flat on the table. Florence gazed down at them, almost mesmerized, and licked her lips.
‘Did Nancy meet someone when she was out walking with Jenny?’ Blackstone asked.
Florence nodded. ‘Yeah, a guy called Eddie.’
‘Eddie what?’
‘Don’t know,’ Florence said, as her hand began to creep slowly across the table towards the dollar bills.
Blackstone slammed his right hand down hard, over the money.
‘Eddie what?’ he repeated.
‘Eddie Toscanini,’ Florence said sulkily.