“Are we in trouble, sir?” Abigail widened her green eyes flirtatiously at Nate.
Nate responded in a warm, friendly manner, saying, “Of course not. We only wanted to ask your help that’s all.”
To Bridget’s irritation, she could see that the maidservants immediately warmed to him while still eyeing her with suspicion.As they should, Bridget thought. She wasn’t here to watch them make eyes at Nate—what sort of maidservants were they to behave openly in such a manner? Unheard of!
“We need you to tell us everything you can about how you found Madam Bouffant this morning,” Bridget said, catching the two housemaids off guard. Surprise registered on their faces, and they exchanged a glance.
“I imagine it must have been a terrible ordeal for you,” Nate added kindly. “You had a horrible fright, didn’t you? I expect that’s why you ran away.”
The housemaids nodded in unison.
Bridget’s irritation faded. Nate seemed to know exactly how to handle them, she conceded. It didn’t matter to her how he got the answers out of the two wayward maids, just as long as he got them.
“It were terrible, sir,” Abigail said. Her wide green eyes and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks made her look the picture of innocence. “We were off to clean the grates and light the fires in the breakfast and drawing rooms on account of the storm, and that’s when we came upon her. She were lying there, all twisted like. Her face were a deathly pale color and there was blood—lots of it.”
Sarah, whose plain features were made all the more unremarkable next to Abigail’s, covered her face with her hands as if to block out the horrific memory.
“What time did you find her?” Bridget asked.
Abigail and Sarah exchanged another glance. “It were five o’clock, miss. That’s the time we are to start readying everything upstairs.”
Bridget pursed her lips. They weren’t telling the truth. The grandfather clock in the hallway had read half-five when she’d run to the stairs immediately after hearing the scream.
“And what did you do when you saw the body?” Nate asked.
“I saw her first,” Abigail said. “Sarah were behind me. I froze. I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. Then Sarah came along and almost bumped into me. When she saw the body”—Abigail swallowed—“she near screamed the house down. We didn’t want any trouble, so we ran.”
“Why would you be in trouble? You hadn’t done anything wrong, had you?” Nate said in a soothing tone.
“Wrong, sir?” Both maidservants shook their heads. “Not us, sir. We did nothing.”
Their repeated denials and fearful faces made Bridget doubt them.
“Did you touch Madam Bouffant at all?” Bridget leaned her forearms on the desk and clasped her hands together.
“Touch her? Lord no! I almost died of fright when I came uponher. Why would I touch her?”
“To check if she was injured or needed help, maybe?”
“She was beyond help. We could see that much,” Abigail said.
“It were so horrible.” Sarah shook brown springy curls as if to oust the memory.
“Did you perhaps run to get help then?” Nate asked, providing them with yet another chance to evade blame.
Again, both maidservants shook their heads. “No. We hid away, sir.”
“Hid away?” Nate repeated. “Why?”
“We were frightened.”
“But why hide?” Bridget pressed, suddenly wondering if she’d seen Madam Bouffant’s emerald and diamond brooch pinned to her cherry red dress at dinner the previous night. She did not recall seeing it on the dead woman’s body, and it seemed unlikely that the magistrate would have failed to notice something so valuable. Had Madam Bouffant been wearing it? If so, the maids could have stolen it and run away to conceal their crime. “Did you perhaps take something that belonged to Madam Bouffant?” Bridget made eye contact with the servants.
“Take something?” Abigail exclaimed. “Never, miss. I wouldn’t touch anything that belonged to a dead woman. It’s like asking her to haunt you for the rest of your life.”
Bridget nodded. She was inclined to believe them. Many people in these parts were superstitious about spirits and such. And the chilling scream she’d heard suggested that they had been truly scared out of their wits—too scared to approach, let alone touch the body. But if the maids hadn’t taken the brooch, then what had happened to it? Bridget made a mental note to search the dead woman’s room and cursed herself for not doing so earlier.
“Did you perhaps see someone else there?” Nate asked. “Someone near the body who scared you?”
