“There was a man at the house, soon after His Grace died, before I left. He came for only a day and asked questions of many of us.”
“The magistrate?”
“I think so. I was so in shock that I did not much pay attention to his name and such. I didn’t care for his manner with us. He did not ask questions so much as bark them, if you understand me.”
“Did you answer his questions?”
Mr. Edkins assumed the bland expression that all servants knew how to wear. “Of course. Such as they were. He wanted to know what I knew about my master’s death. The answer was nothing at all. I was asleep at the time. He also wanted to know my master’s movements that day. I told him what I knew for certain because I had seen it. When he rose from bed, when he went below. I did not think it wise to report what I was told he would do, such as ride out or such as that. If I did not witness it, I did not tell this man it had happened.”
“Wise of you. What you heard would happen or did happen may not have happened, and including that could complicate the information.”
“Thank you, sir. Although I confess that I did it out of pique at this man’s manner. I admit that my goal was to give him as little as required.”
Chase stood. “Will you show me the lake? If you want to fish, you can. My questions will not take long, but they may be more specific than the magistrate’s.”
Mr. Edkins led the way through the house. He removed a rod and some equipment from a tall holder near the garden door. Together they exited the garden through a back portal and walked the fifty feet to the lake. Edkins set about preparing his rod while Chase took in the peaceful scene.
The valet cast his line. Chase sat on a large tree stump.
“Mr. Edkins, were any family members at Melton Park that day, or during the three days before?”
“I saw none and heard none. The butler would know better than I.”
“The duke may have mentioned it while you tended to him, however.”
Edkins moved his lure in a long, deep circle. “He mentioned no relative’s name to me.”
The man was answering the way he had answered the magistrate. Guarded. That alone piqued Chase’s curiosity. Had Minerva received more forthright answers? She had no standing to ask, which alone may have garnered her more.
“Did anyone visit? Anyone at all? A neighbor, perhaps. A business associate. Even if you did not know the name and did not serve them in any way, were you aware of anyone like that being on the property?” He could find no other way to cover all eventualities.
Edkins studied his line. He made the lure bob. He appeared not to have heard the question.
“One,” he finally said. “That afternoon. I looked out into the garden and saw His Grace with someone. A woman.”
“One of his sisters?”
“I can’t say. I don’t think she entered through the house. I think perhaps she came in the garden from the back. I could not see her well. I only know it was a woman from the bonnet and such. They were among the trees in back, strolling.”
“Do you think he expected her?”
“I wouldn’t know. He talked with her, though. He did not make her leave.”
A woman. Damnation. “Have you ever seen someone who you think was this woman? In London, for example?” He added the last to appease his conscience that he was not really asking if Edkins had seen that woman a half an hour ago, in his own sitting room.
“I can’t say that I have, sir.”
That was not the same thing as saying he hadn’t.
“That evening, after dinner, did the duke return to his chambers? Did you serve him?”
“No. I was in the dressing room dozing as was my habit. He came up very late most nights. I rarely prepared him for sleep before midnight. Then suddenly it was morning and he had never come. We soon knew why.” Sadness flexed his expression. He squinted behind the spectacles.
“What do you think happened?”
“I think he fell. It is not safe up there. That wall would not protect him much if he slipped. I don’t know why he went up there at night like that, with it so dangerous.”
He went because up there at night, nothing existed except him and the vast night sky. Uncle Frederick had not been an especially spiritual man, except for his habit of taking walks under the stars.
