“If we are to make our inquiries, sir, we must know all the facts,” Brodie explained. “Otherwise, there is no reason to continue. It would be a waste of your time.”
Bluntly spoken. Of course, Brodie was right, I thought.
Sir John nodded stiffly. “Whatever you need, of course.”
“Your daughter had her coming out this spring,” I commented. “Lady Mainwaring had shared that her engagement was to be announced.”
“A man from a fine family,” Sir John replied. “Yes, it was to be announced at Christmas holiday. Surely you’re not suggesting anything amiss in that regard.”
“It is part of the information we would like to follow,” Brodie explained.
“Very well. He will need to be contacted. This will be a shock, you understand?”
“Of course.”
“I would like to see your daughter’s room, as well,” I interjected.
“I’ve told you that she was not present last evening,” Sir John replied. “What could you possibly hope to find?”
“There are often things that might not be considered important at first glance,” I explained. “That might very well tell us something about where your daughter was going and who she might have met with instead of meeting with Miss Ainsley-Townsend.”
“That would be extremely upsetting for Lady Mainwaring…” Sir John started to protest. “Surely you understand?”
“Nevertheless,” I insisted.
“Of course,” he stiffly replied then had the head butler summon the housekeeper.
“You will please remember to be discreet, and keep me informed regarding anything you learn,” Sir John added, with a look at both of us as his housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, arrived and he made my request.
I thought Mrs. Gray’s name most appropriate as the woman was a vision in shades of that same color— gray hair pulled tightly into a bun at the top of her head, gray gown with just a hint of white at the collar, her expression also quite gray.
Dourwas the word that came to mind, as she nodded at my introduction with a frown then inclined her head in the direction of the stairs just beyond the formal drawing room.
The stairs, along with the second-floor landing and the hallway just beyond again, reminded me of Sir John’s position, with thick carpet underfoot and opulent fixtures on the walls and overhead.
The doors to the rooms on the second floor were all closed. A maid appeared with a silver tray from one of those rooms— presumably that of Lady Mainwaring. There was a brief nodded exchange from Mrs. Gray and the maid continued to the stairs.
Amelia Mainwaring’s rooms were across the way and farther down the hall, the door also closed.
“Miss Amelia’s rooms,” Mrs. Gray announced.
To her credit it did appear that her expression changed. A touch of sadness perhaps? Then her gray lips thinned once more, and I wondered if she practiced disapproval in the mirror each morning after donning her stiff white collar. I appreciated my own housekeeper, Mrs. Ryan, with her boisterous Irish humor not to mention her lemon sponge cake, all the more.
I was forced to begin my visit to Amelia Mainwaring’s rooms under that beady gaze. As if I was some sort of criminal rather than having just been appointed with Brodie to make our inquiries on behalf of the Mainwaring family. I ignored Mrs. Gray as I slowly made my way about the sitting room.
There were the usual things to be found in the rooms of a young woman. Her sitting room was elegantly furnished, no doubt at the direction of her mother.
A bit over the top for someone of Amelia’s age, I thought. The furnishings and drapes were of the sort that might be found in a royal sitting room, as well as quite dark and impersonal as I attempted to learn something about the young woman.
I ventured next into the bedroom, Mrs. Gray hovering at my elbow with an occasional sniff of disapproval. Here I had a better sense of the young woman who had an obvious penchant for porcelain in the almost whimsical collection of animal statues on a side table.
The door to her wardrobe was slightly ajar. Upon opening the wardrobe I discovered something peculiar. Her formal dressing gown and nightgown were both still there. Most interesting for someone who was supposedly planning a stay-over with a friend.
When I would have searched through the other items there, Mrs. Gray reached around me and promptly shut the wardrobe door.
A look in her direction and she backed away, but the disapproval was there. My gaze then fastened on something else in the far corner of the room—a racquet.
It was finely made and had seen quite a bit of use. It seemed that Miss Amelia enjoyed the sport of lawn tennis. It gave me additional insight into the young woman. I set the racquet back in the corner.
