“What suspects?” Mama asked intently.
Sighing heavily, he provided a summary of the suspect list, including Patrick Harlow and the Corrigans, former footman Dobson Gill, and his new suspicion arising from last night’s fire.
“This is serious business, son.” Papa frowned. “And you have cause to believe that whoever committed the arson is amongst the staff?”
“I think the arson was committed by someone in the manor,” Ethan corrected.
It took an instant for the others to grasp what he was saying.
“You don’t think Canning or Parkhurst was involved?” Incredulity laced Gigi’s voice.
His cronies had gone into the village to give him and his family time to catch up. With a prickle of guilt, he wondered if their ears were burning.
“I don’twantto think that either of them is guilty,” he said. “But it would not be the first time I was betrayed by someone close to me.”
He’d been referring to Blake, but he saw Owen flinch. Guilt and self-recrimination lined his brother’s haggard features, and once again, Ethan felt a violent internal tug-of-war. A part of him recognized what the battlefield had done to Owen and wanted to forgive him and ease his pain. A smaller, meaner part wanted Owen to suffer.
Shouldn’t Owen feel remorse over depriving me of my passion and destiny?
“What motive would Canning or Parkhurst have to do such a thing?” James asked.
Grateful for the distraction, Ethan exhaled. “I don’t know. Last night, I had a misunderstanding with Canning, for which I take full blame. I apologized to him right before he left for the village, and he seemed receptive. Truth be told, the business with Blake hurt my friendship with both Canning and Parkhurst, but they seem to have let bygones be bygones. And they proved themselves to be loyal friends when they escorted Gigi here after her latest scrape.”
“Speaking of that ‘scrape’”—Papa aimed a stern gaze at Gigi—“your mama and I will have a discussion with you shortly, young lady.”
“Yes, Papa.” Gigi sighed.
She shot Ethan a look of pique; he gave her a smug smile, enjoying the tit for tat.
“You’ve discussed revenge as a possible motive for that gang leader, Harlow,” Mama said. “And also for that disgruntled footman, Gill. What about the other staff? Do they bear you ill will or have other reason to resort to mischief?”
“Obviously, I can vouch for Brunswick, Valentine, and Spencer,” Ethan said. “They’ve proved their loyalty through the years. As for the rest…well, Mrs. Wood can speak to that better than I can.”
Although Xenia looked nonplussed to be at the center of his family’s attention, she recovered splendidly.
“I hired the original maids, Daisy and Berta, at the mop fair over a fortnight ago,” she said. “Both grew up in the area and had good references, although a previous employer found Daisy’s personality ‘irksome’ because of her need for attention. Anyway, she was convinced Bloody Thom was behind the dead chickens and quit after the piano business. Apparently, she’s been spreading tales about the ghost, which hasn’t helped in finding her replacement. Berta, on the other hand, is Daisy’s opposite, mild-mannered and hard-working. But she gave notice this morning; the destruction of the gazebo frightened her off, and I can’t say I blame her.”
“Neither have reason to act against my son?” Papa asked.
Xenia shook her head. “Not that I am aware of, my lord. As for the three remaining maids, they are the young nieces of the village dressmaker. I cannot see them participating in mischief either.”
“Other than the kind involving a fellow, that is.” Gigi’s eyes twinkled. “According to Colette, they are obsessed with gaining a follower. Apparently, they have taken to chasing the footmen.”
“They can be a bit silly,” Xenia allowed. “But they are hard workers and good girls, even if poor William and Fred have to hide from them.”
“William and Fred are the footmen, I presume?” James inquired. “What do you know about them?”
“They are sensible lads from local families,” Xenia said. “William has twelve siblings and counting, and he works to support them. He can be shy, but since he started using the spot-reducing cream I made him, his confidence has improved. As for Fred, if you assign him a task, he will see it done. His true talent is with animals; in fact, he’s the only one who can manage Brutus, our resident rooster. I am trying to convince Lord Ethan to give Fred a shot at working in the stables.”
James gave Ethan an amused look. “I think your housekeeper is a soft touch.”
Ethan smiled faintly. “She is.”
“I am not,” Xenia protested. “But I cannot see anyone belowstairs participating in these hoaxes. The only person we haven’t discussed is the cook, Mrs. Johnson. And she’s a godsend: steady as a rock and always ready with a cup of tea when anyone needs it.”
“What is Mrs. Johnson’s background?” Mama asked.
“She is a rather private person,” Xenia admitted. “She’s never spoken of a husband; the ‘Mrs.’ is an honorific. She did, however, have glowing references from two homes she worked at—one in Lincolnshire, the other in Devonshire, I believe. And her scones speak for themselves.”
