“I’d like to speak to any staff who were involved in serving tea to Victoria Dutton-Cox and your sister the day Victoria died.”
I braced myself for a quick rejection. Instead, he quietly asked, “Why? That was a long time ago.”
“Two years.”
“What can you possibly hope to accomplish?”
“I’m trying to discover what secret could be so dangerous that someone might want Drake killed rather than paying his demands or stopping him through legal channels. I’ve learned Drake was present when Victoria died. Did something happen that day to threaten Drake’s life much later?”
He kept his expression rigid, but a note of anguish wavered in his voice. “Don’t you think I’ve asked every single person who was involved in any way that day for everything they saw and heard? Asked them more than once?”
“I believe you. I still want to ask.”
“What purpose could it serve?”
I didn’t want to admit Lady Julia’s comments about the teapots had captured my attention. “I want to make certain the right questions were asked. I’m a woman, not their employer, and they have no reason to keep quiet about the details with me.”
“What details?”
“Things a duke wouldn’t pay attention to.”
“I assure you I pay attention to details. Especially when it concerns the death of the young woman I was to marry.”
I looked into his eyes. I didn’t see sorrow in them while discussing his fiancée’s death, but I had seen sorrow after I’d asked to speak to his staff. “Perhaps your servants were trying to protect you from anything that might hurt you.”
“She was dead. What more could possibly hurt me?”
“The manner of her death.”
He held my gaze for a long moment before he said, “I’ll introduce you to my cook, Mrs. Potter. She knows everything that happens in her department and who else was working that day and is still employed here.”
I followed him along the hall and down the back staircase to the kitchen. Several women, mostly young, were sitting or standing at a long table carrying on various household tasks, from slicing vegetables to mending. They all immediately set aside their work and stood facing us.
“Mrs. Potter, ladies, this is Georgia Fenchurch. She wants to know what occurred in this house the day Victoria Dutton-Cox died. Please give her any information she may require.” The duke swung around and marched past me to the stairs.
I could hear his footsteps on the wooden steps as I faced the half dozen women in aprons. None wore a welcoming expression. Mrs. Potter was perhaps in her forties and looked strong enough to enforce her wishes on the others. “Mrs. Potter, I’m primarily interested in who fixed the tea and what happened to the teapots after the young ladies left the house.”
“Sally always fixes the tea. She did that day, using Lady Margaret’s new teapots. Ever so nice and delicate they were. Too delicate. When the young ladies were helping Miss Victoria out to the carriage, their skirts caught and knocked the tray over. The tea was spilled and one of the pots broke.”
Was it an accident that the tea was spilled? I was being silly. Victoria didn’t complain about the taste, so it probably wasn’t the tea that was poisoned. “What happened?”
“We cleaned up the tea, threw out the broken china, and washed whatever was left,” one of the girls said.
“That’s Sally,” Mrs. Potter said.
“You’re the one who made the tea. And then you carried it up to the parlor where the young ladies were?”
“Yes.”
“Only tea?”
“Yes. Lady Margaret told us earlier that Miss Victoria was getting too heavy to fit into her wedding dress, so not to bring up any biscuits with the tea.”
“Did Miss Victoria complain that her hostess was being”—I searched for a word—“unwelcoming?”
Sally looked away. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Yes, you would. Those two were well-known for their disagreements. I would have listened, if only to warn the other staff if their mistress was going to be angry.”
Sally and Mrs. Potter exchanged glances. Mrs. Potter shrugged. Sally nodded. “Miss Victoria said, ‘Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?’ Lady Margaret said, ‘Oh, sit down and drink your tea. You’ll soon be able to order anything in this house that you want.’”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“No. I went downstairs then.” Sally twisted her apron, obviously agitated over being questioned about what she’d heard between Lady Margaret and Miss Victoria.
I tried asking about that day from a different angle. “What china was broken?”
Sally let go of her apron. “The teapot Lady Julia Waxpool drank from split in two. Each pot had a different floral design. Pretty they were, and I remember distinctly which young lady drank from which. She arrived just a minute after I brought the first two and I was sent for another teapot and cup. Two of the cups and saucers and tea balls were so badly crushed I couldn’t tell where all the slivers came from.”
Lady Julia was still alive. There was no reason to break her teapot on purpose. I was certain the tea wasn’t poisoned. “Is Lady Margaret that fussy about her tea that she’d have individual teapots for her guests?”
“She’s always been,” Mrs. Potter said. “Even as a little girl, tea cozies weren’t good enough for her. Tea had to be fresh that minute and piping hot.”
“Tell me how you fixed tea for her.” Was there something special in the ritual that could have led to Victoria’s death?
“Same as always.” Sally began to sound mutinous.
“Please.”
“When Mrs. Potter brought the water to a boil, I put some in the pots and then waited a moment before pouring that water into the cups to warm them up. Once I tossed that water, I filled up the teapots and put everything on the tray. Milk, sugar, cups, saucers, spoons. Then I carried it up.”
“Who put the tea leaves in the pots?”
“I did. Well, I put the tea into tea balls and put them into the pots. Little things they were to match the teapots. Then I carried the pots up with the tea already brewing, ready for Lady Margaret when I reached the parlor.”
“And the tea all came from one source?”
“Yes. That tin right there.” Sally pointed to a tea tin over the stove.
“How often are the remaining teapots used? It sounds like Lady Margaret had a good solution to cold tea in the pot when someone arrives late.”
Mrs. Potter answered. “She only used them that one day. Said it reminded her of Miss Victoria’s death and she couldn’t stand to look at them. The duke had us give the pots that were left to a charity drive a year ago.”
I decided to try a different line of questioning. “Had the visit been planned long?”
“Miss Victoria sent a note that morning saying she’d call at teatime. The lady’s maid, Ethel, came into the kitchen while the visit was going on and told us Lady Margaret grumbled that Miss Victoria would soon be here night and day, and couldn’t she wait a week before ruining every one of Lady Margaret’s days.”
“Did Lady Margaret do anything to get ready for Miss Victoria’s arrival?” I’d suspect sharpening knives except Miss Victoria wasn’t stabbed.
“Just ordered flowers and arranged them.”
“What did she order?”
“Lilies of the valley. Lady Margaret said they looked bridal. She was just cutting up the leaves when I came in to light the fire in the parlor,” Sally said.