“And you brought tea!”
“Well, I rang, and it appeared.There doesn’t appear to be coffee here.I hope Stewart remembers to bring some.He should be here later today, with luck.”
“He’ll be useful since we’re short of a manservant.Fortunately, he doesn’t stand too much on his dignity as a valet.How is Edward?Have you heard?”
Piers poured them a cup of tea each and sprawled beside her on the bed while he told her about his conversation with Fosterson, his discovery of the key, and his somewhat frustrating morning walk in search of clues.
“So you think it was a deliberate attack?”
“I can’t see anything obvious that would otherwise have caused such a wound.Although, to be fair, I saw no sign of a weapon either.”
“Should we be involving the local magistrate in this?”she asked uneasily.“Supposing we knew who he was.”
“If and when we establish it was an attack, then yes.”
April finished her biscuit thoughtfully and reached for her teacup.“Edward is the sort of man who sets himself up for a smack.If he’s been stringing along at least two maidservants, and goodness knows who else in the village, he must have trodden on a few toes.Though caving his skull in does seem excessive.”
“Someone meant to kill him,” Piers said.“We should try and establish exactly when he was struck and where everyone was at the time, since no one seems to have been in bed.”
“And exactly whose toes he stood on,” April said.“We need to speak to the maids.”
“I did speak to Peggy.”Piers gave her the gist of his conversation with the maid, after which, she made a hasty movement to rise.
Piers caught her by the shoulder to keep her in place and unwound himself from the bed to fetch her notebook and pencil from the desk.She was smiling as he set them in her lap, no doubt because they hadn’t needed words.
As they finished their tea, April absorbed herself in writing down the likely time of the attack and what they knew of the household after ten o’clock.Piers never grew tired of watching her in full concentration, her whole face lit with curiosity and determination.Any doubts he might have harboured about involving her in a rather nasty attempted murder mystery at this time vanished.It would, in fact, be unkind to deprive her.
Actually, he doubted he could.She would involve herself anyway.She always had, not necessarily from the same intellectual inquisitiveness as Piers, but simply from the fact that she identified with him.He was still in awe of that.
Without lifting her gaze from the page, she said, “Perhaps you should ask questions of your friends, and I’ll speak to the staff.”
This had been the normal division of tasks when she had worked for him.Now, it made him uneasy.Also, a little defensive of his friends.But she was right.Even if Fosterson had not still been dressed in the middle of the night and even if Claudia had not cast that sideways smile at Edward, they needed to know what each had seen and observed.
“You probably have a better manner with the staff,” he allowed.“But we should both speak to our guests.Hopefully, everyone will be at breakfast.Except Fosterson, I suppose...”
Chapter Seven
