"Then who do you believe could have?"
Her eyes were large in her tearstained face. "I don't know. John would be strong enough. Or Cook."
"Did you find him?"
She started. "What?"
"Mr. Horne. When I came upstairs that day, you were in the doorway to your master's study. You were crying. Do you remember?"
"Yes, sir. I couldn't believe my eyes. There he was, the poor master."
"Did you find him? Did you open the door and find him there?"
She shook her head vehemently. "I would never have gone in without his permission. I would have knocked first. No, Bremer opened the door, and I looked inside."
"Why were you upstairs at all?"
The hand holding the handkerchief whitened. Her eyes moved past me, then back to my face, and she wet her lips.
The obvious explanation would have been that she was going about her duties. But she brushed her lips again with her pale tongue and replied woodenly, "I was fetching something. For Bremer. When he came to open the door, I looked into the room."
I pretended to believe her. "Were you fond of your master?"
She relaxed. "Oh, yes, indeed, sir. A kind gentleman he was, always giving presents and the like, and letting us have more days out than most. I'd have done anything for him."
"Including locking a girl in an attic and giving her opium to keep her quiet?"
Her handkerchief came down. "Aimee would whine and fuss so, just because the master liked to play a little. Lily were much more of a lady. She always did what she was told."
A hard edge entered my voice. "Do you know what happened to Lily?"
"The master sent her away, didn't he? Not surprising, really. He had set her up nice and proper, but she didn't like it one bit. Ungrateful cow."
"You said she always did what she was told."
"Oh, indeed. But with such airs, she did. Like she was being put upon, instead of the master favoring her. I'd have given anything to have the master's favor."
I tasted bile. At least Bremer had been ashamed. "The day Mr. Horne died, how long were you upstairs?"
"Why do you want to know that, sir?" she asked around the handkerchief.
"Were you there when Mr. Denis left?"
Her eyes went round. "Mr. Denis was there?"
"Yes. He visited for a time."
"Oh. I didn't know that. I was out shopping for cook until… Why did he want to come there? Bothering the master for money, I'll warrant. He was always writing the master letters, and the master would get fair put out when he got them. But it was so much safer for him not to come. You know that."
"I don't work for Mr. Denis, Grace."
She regarded me in astonishment. "You don't? But I thought…"
"You thought I was a go-between. Why did you think that?"
"Who do you work for, then? The magistrates?"
"No. I am working for Aimee, and Lily, who was really a young lady called Jane Thornton."
She gave me a puzzled look that wondered why I'd want to do anything for them. "I thought you were with Mr. Denis. He always sent someone different. Safer, wasn't it? Mean of you to let me think you came from him."
"What time did you return from your shopping that day?"
"I don't know, do I? Maybe about three."
Denis would have been gone by then, if John had told me the truth that he'd let the man out at half past two. "And you went upstairs?"
"I gave Cook her things and listened to her snarl about them. I slipped upstairs to get away from her."
"What were you to fetch for Bremer?"
Grace jumped. "What?"
She'd already forgotten her lie. I leaned forward. "What did Bremer tell you to fetch for him?"
Her face reddened. "Oh. I don't remember."
"You went upstairs on your own. Bremer had nothing to do with it. Why?"
She gave me a confused look. "Why do you say so?"
"Because you had plenty of time to dash upstairs, go to your master's study, stab him through the heart, and then pretend to be about your duties when Bremer came and found him."
Grace looked outraged. "I would never. I would never have hurt Mr. Horne. Never, ever."
"Then why were you upstairs?"
"That isn't your business, is it, sir?"
"You tell me the truth or I'll drag you off to the magistrate and you can answer his questions. I'll take you by the ear if necessary."
"But I didn't kill him."
"I don't care whether you did or not. I can make a magistrate believe it, and then you'll go to Newgate and Bremer will go home. So will you tell me? Or shall we go to the magistrate?"
Whatever Grace read in my eyes made her whiten. She glanced about as if looking for help but found none.
"All right, I'll tell you. I was listening at the door."
"Why?"
She twisted the handkerchief. "Always did, didn't I? When he was with her. In case he needed my help."
"Help with what?"
A shrug. "Anything. Sometimes she'd fight him, and I'd help him quiet her. Stupid girl. I wouldn't have fought him. Ever."
"So you were listening at your post that day, hoping Horne would call for you. What did you hear?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing at all?"
Grace shook her head, looking disappointed. "Nothing. But sometimes I can't hear nothing, no matter how hard I listen. The door is a bit thick."
"How long did you stay there?"
"Until I heard Bremer coming upstairs. Then I hid until he opened the door."
I fell silent. Would she have heard the murder take place through the heavy wooden door? Could the murderer have escaped between the time she fled and the time Bremer reached the door? Or had Denis left him dead, annoyed with the man for not paying him for Aimee and Jane? Or perhaps it had nothing to do with money. Perhaps Horne simply could not be discreet.
Anger boiled inside me. None of Horne's people gave a damn about the two abducted young women, except perhaps John, who'd become infatuated with Aimee. They cared only about a good place, high wages, or Horne's foul attentions, willing to look the other way at whatever the monster did.
I leaned to Grace again. "Where is Jane Thornton?"
Her brow wrinkled. "Who?"
"I just told you. The girl called Lily. Where is she? What did Horne do with her?"
"How do I know? She was there one day, gone the next. Good riddance, I say."
"Did he take her somewhere?"
"I don't know," Grace repeated in a hard voice. "I never asked. Most like she ran off."
"She disappeared, and it did not occur to you to inquire?"
"Why the devil should I? I didn't like her. Why the master liked her, I'll never understand. Such a milk-and-water miss. No wonder she was chucked out in the end."
I held my temper barely in check. "She was a respectable girl from a respectable family."
"Why didn't she go home, then? I wager it was she who done the master. She crept into the house and killed him. You should be trying to arrest her. "
I rose. "I have not ruled out the possibility that you murdered him, Grace. You had plenty of time and plenty of opportunity. And you were jealous."
She sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing. "How dare you say that to me. As if I'd ever have hurt him. They arrested Mr. Bremer, didn't they? Not me."
"But you were alone upstairs, listening at the door, and you disliked him giving his attentions to Aimee and Jane."
Grace's eyes widened, her voice rising with hysteria. "You can't prove that. A magistrate would never believe you."
But a magistrate most likely could and would. From the fear in her eyes, she knew that.
"I never killed him," she repeated breathlessly. "I never would."
I left her standing in the middle of the dingy sitting room, her mouth open in fear and outrage. I opened the door to the dark rain and let myself out.