“Goodness,” Evelyn remarked. She might have said more, but just then Bruce announced Constable Morris.
The expression on the constable’s face was very grim indeed.
Chapter 34
Evelyn felt as if her heart had stopped at the expression on Constable Morris’s face.
“Come in, come in,” the Duchess invited him. “Sit down with us, and tell us what you have found.”
“I cannot be sure of the motive or who was intended to be harmed, but it was definitely foul play,” Constable Morris said grimly, sitting down on one of the spindly occasional chairs. “There were bright cut marks on all four of the supporting chains. They were placed in such a way that as the chains heated and cooled throughout the day, they would break, causing the rack to fall.”
The Duchess set down her glass, although she had been about to take a sip. “That is dreadful! I cannot imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”
“No more can I,” Constable Morris said heavily. “It is the kind of thing that is often done by disgruntled workers. Have you turned anyone off recently? Had occasion to reprimand anyone?”
“Only Mr. Sparks,” the Duchess said. “I pensioned him off a little over a month ago. The poor old soul kept falling asleep next to the hearth and having to be rescued before he fell into the coals.”
“He was sent to live with his daughter, who receives a nice stipend for looking after him, and he is given a few pence each week to spend at the inn. Word has it that he delights in telling stories, gossiping, and playing dice in the evenings, so I cannot imagine how he would feel himself to be badly used.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Constable Morris said. “No other problems with the staff? No one pinching the silver, that sort of thing?”
“Definitely not,” Mr. Wilson said firmly. “We run a tight ship here. The staff is small, as is only right with our lovely Duchess as the only peer in residence, and works very well together. Aside from having to rescue Mrs. Swinton and Mr. Rudge from their troubles, we have had no incidents at all.”
“What else has happened?” asked Constable Morris.
The Duchess quickly explained about the chair leg that had caused Evelyn to endure a broken foot, and Mr. Rudge’s tumble down the cellar stairs. As he listened, the constable’s face took on an expression of increased gravity.
At the end of the narration, he said, “Clearly, someone intends harm to your staff, Your Grace, and possibly, by extension, to you. This is a matter to be taken very seriously. Have you hired on anyone new recently?”
“Only Mr. McElroy. He was hired to replace Jemmy as potboy.”
“Could this Mr. McElroy be the cause of the trouble?”
“I would scarcely think so,” Mayson put in. “He was wounded in Africa during the recent war. Because he has a wooden leg and his face is horribly scarred, he has a hard time getting employment. I have found him to not only be willing, but eager to work.”
“Resentment can spring in strange places,” the constable pointed out. “But I will own that it does seem unlikely. Military man and all, it stands to reason that he would understand discipline and duty.”
“Will you take dinner with us?” the Duchess asked, gesturing at the abundance of food laid out on the drawing room table. “It is the least we can do, having gotten you out so late in the day.”
“I should say no,” Constable Morris said, surveying the food spread out on the table. “But this all looks incredibly good. Is this young Jemmy’s work?”
“It is,” Mr. Rudge said. “I am currently relegated to sitting in a corner giving directions while shelling peas to keep my hands out of mischief.”
The constable’s lips twitched, but he did not smile or laugh. “A dire fate,” he said. “But one that might have saved you from harm. You were too far away from the rack for it to fall on you. It is good luck that Jemmy had turned away to the ovens just then. As large as the thing is, I believe you have gotten off lightly with only two cakes as casualties.”
“Perhaps so,” Mayson sighed. “But it feels all wrong for it to have happened in my kitchen, this kitchen in particular. It curdles the stomach to think that someone is so resentful or angry as to try engineer such an accident.”
“It does you credit that you feel that way, Mr. Rudge,” the constable said. “Unfortunately, the kind of person who will do this sort of thing is rarely rational. It makes no sense to us, but to a deranged mind it might seem perfectly logical. Nonetheless, I will send up to London for a couple of fellows I know and can trust. They will be free of local prejudices and associations, and will therefore be more impartial in their investigations.”
“That is a great deal of trouble,” the Duchess started to say.
“No trouble at all, Your Grace,” the constable replied. “They are simply sitting around drinking, er, tea and playing the occasional game of darts. It will do them good to bestir themselves, and get a little country air into their citified lungs.”
“If you are certain,” the Duchess said.
“I am,” Constable Morris said. “I am only one man, Your Grace, and willing as I am to investigate, I think this would go more smoothly if I had some assistance.”
“Very well,” the Duchess acquiesced. “But you must let us compensate them for their time.”
