“How do you do. Please be seated, Mrs. Chance.”
She sat on the leather sofa and smoothed her skirts with brisk strokes, a chatelaine of keys jingling at her waist. “I fear I shan’t be of much use to you.”
“You packed up Bart’s effects. Can you tell me what you found?”
“Only a few clothes, a book, and his toilette things. His nightclothes were sent to be laundered and used for cleaning cloths. His footman’s livery remains with the house.”
“I believe you and Bart had a disagreement?”
“He was insolent.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Insolent? How so?”
Her brown eyes grew frosty at the memory. “He refused to run an errand for me.”
“What was the errand?”
“It was merely a note for my brother, advising him that I couldn’t visit that afternoon. Bart read it, which made me very angry with him.”
“How do you know that he read it?”
“Why, he did so in front of me. He was annoyed, said I had no business asking him to deliver personal messages. That he worked for the Kinseys, not me. I planned to go myself, my lord, as my brother expected me, but Lord Nicholas was receiving guests for afternoon tea and we were short staffed. I was needed here.” She bristled defensively. “I was forced to caution Bart over the matter.”
“Was that the only time you had difficulties?”
“No, as a matter of fact. I took him to task again for lighting a fire in the fireplace in his bedchamber. Fires aren’t lit in the staffs’ bedchambers, not during the day and certainly not now the weather is warmer.”
“And what was his answer?”
“Bart told me to mind my own business, my lord. He got quite above his station. I was planning to speak to Fiske about him, but then Bart became ill.” She sighed. “I was sorry then and tried to make him as comfortable as I could.”
“Did Bart get on well with the rest of the staff?”
“As far as I know, milord.”
“That is all, thank you, Mrs. Chance. Could you please advise the kitchen staff that I wish to speak to them? In about half an hour.”
Jason was considering whether to find out which guests Lord Nicholas had entertained when Mr. Thorburn entered.
As he greeted him, Jason was struck again by the man’s pallor. He looked what he was, a veritable bookworm, like those who could be found buried amongst stacks of tomes in libraries.
“I’ve been hoping to speak to you, my lord.” Thorburn sat down at Jason’s request, his hands resting on his knees, the picture of earnestness. “I want to help in any way I can.”
“You assist Lord Kinsey with his antiquities?”
“Yes. I catalog them, write the necessary correspondence, and sort out where those fascinating finds of his lordship’s should go. Some are offered to museums; others his lordship retains. What you see here is just a small part of it. Lord Kinsey has a fine collection at his country estate. And I am expecting a shipment to arrive in London any day from his recent trip.” His eyes took on a gleam of anticipation.
“What qualifications does one require for such a position?”
Thorburn straightened his back against the leather squab. “I believe myself eminently qualified. I studied archeology at Cambridge and am able to assist his lordship in deciphering meaning from ancient scripts and languages.”
“That must be fascinating work. Do you enjoy it?”
“But of course, my lord. I consider myself very fortunate to have such a position.”
Jason rested one leg on his other knee. “Could Bart have had any enemies?”
“I’ve never seen any evidence of it. I believe he was happy in his employment. Lord Kinsey was quite impressed with him. So much so that he often invited Bart into the library to discuss his work with him.”
