A Devious Death (A Lady and Lady's Maid Mystery) by Alyssa Maxwell

Author:Alyssa Maxwell [Maxwell, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-12-26T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Only the basics had been set out for breakfast that morning, and no luncheon at all was served at the proper time. While Eva understood the oversight, she also knew that going without food could stretch tensions to the breaking point. To that end, after leaving the billiard room she went below stairs to help Mrs. Dayton assemble an adequate meal. She found the woman standing in the servants’ hall, staring down at what appeared to be a shirt spread out on the table before her.

“Mrs. Dayton, I believe our guests could do with a spot of lunch, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ll help you.”

The cook flinched, turning to Eva with an alarmed expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s that you’ve got there?”

Mrs. Dayton mutely gestured for Eva to come closer. “I sent Margaret up a little while ago to collect the laundry to be sent out.” She spoke in hushed tones. “Well, one must maintain order, mustn’t one? We discovered this balled up in a pile of towels left outside the linen cupboard.”

Eva leaned over to inspect the garment, a man’s white dress shirt. Smudges of pale brown streaked the collar and one of the cuffs. “Yes, well, no wonder. It’s stained.”

“Look closer, Miss Huntford. Those aren’t ordinary stains.” The woman’s voice dropped several more notches. “That’s blood, or I don’t know my business.”

“You’re a cook, Mrs. Dayton. Not a laundress.”

“Indeed, and I’ve nicked enough fingers in my career to know blood when I see it. Whoever this shirt belongs to tried to wash it out, but used warm water instead of cold.” She held up the shirt in front of her. “Warm water sets blood hard and fast, as well you must know. It’ll likely never come out now, not without a good bleaching, but bleach will ruin this fine percale. The question is, whose blood is this?”

Eva took the shirt from her, holding the fabric taut to examine the stains. “Whose indeed.”

* * *

At Eva’s request, Phoebe met her in her bedroom on the top floor. It was the one place they might close the door and converse without anyone interrupting. A chill went through Phoebe when Eva held up a shirt whose collar and right cuff looked as though they had been dipped in diluted brown paint.

“Mrs. Dayton is certain it’s blood, my lady, and I agree.”

Phoebe agreed as well. Paint aside, not much else could leave stains of that hue, especially if the wearer had attempted unsuccessfully to wash away the evidence. “Well, we know this shirt can only belong to one of two men: Hastings or Ralph Cameron.” She reached for one of the sleeves and held it up. “Hastings is more heavyset than the size of this shirt would allow, so it must belong to Mr. Cameron. There’s nothing for it but to simply ask him. Not only whether this is his shirt, but how it came to have blood on it. Oh, Eva, do you suppose . . .

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