The household descended into fearful agitation.
Throughout the afternoon, Lord Stanley questioned every maid and footman in turn, yet none possessed any knowledge of Mrs Dent’s intentions.
Charlotte was startled to learn the maids had been bolted into their rooms each night by Mrs Dent herself, ostensibly to prevent improper conduct with the male servants. Apparently this was common practice in large country houses. Only when Mrs Dent failed to open the doors that morning, as she usually did, had Holden come to release them.
The maids spoke freely of their dislike for Mrs Dent, describing her as severe, distant, and joyless. Yet none could plausibly have been involved in her death. They had all remained confined to their chambers whilst the Bow Street Runners disguised as footmen kept watch outside her room throughout the night.
Mrs Dent, it seemed, had lived an isolated existence and had no family to inform of her demise.
With little more to be done, they finally left the servants’ quarters.
‘You have been an immense help today, Miss Lucas,’ Lord Stanley said as they ascended the stairs together.
The quiet sincerity of it caught her off guard.
‘Your handling of both my sister and the staff was well done.’ His voice sounded weary now, fatigue finally breaking through his rigid composure. ‘May I rely upon you to manage the guests for the remainder of the day? Minerva, once she learns what has occurred, may not bear it well. Mrs Dent served here for years.’
‘Of course,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Will you tell her about her involvement with the Odd Fellows?’
He gave a faint shake of his head.
‘No. It would only break her heart. I would rather spare her from the ugliness of all this.’
Charlotte nodded in understanding and turned to head towards her bed chamber.
But before she could leave, Lord Stanley caught her gently by the wrist.
The touch sent an altogether inconvenient warmth through her.
His expression, however, remained steel.
‘Be cautious. Be discreet. There is a strong chance they know we suspected Mrs Dent.’
Charlotte stared at him in alarm.
‘How? No one knew except us—and the footmen.’
Lord Stanley’s gaze grew colder.
‘Precisely,’ he said quietly. ‘That is what troubles me.’
Chapter 25
The picnic was postponed until the following day while the staff scrambled to reorganise themselves. Charlotte arranged for Holly to assume Mrs Dent’s duties temporarily while Holden assisted below stairs.
By the next morning, the household had largely settled back into its usual rhythm. Charlotte and Sarah tidied the schoolroom after a productive morning of lessons with Tom. As Charlotte leafed through his notebook, she felt a quiet sense of pride. Even his maze sketches had improved; the lines were neater now, more deliberate—almost resembling maps. She was surprised to realise how fond she had grown of the boy.
Unfortunately, such agreeable developments were not reflected elsewhere in the household.
Mrs Dent’s death had shaken Mrs Wilberforce considerably—though more, Charlotte suspected, from the disruption it caused to the house party than from any deep affection for the woman herself. Yet once Charlotte and Holden restored order below stairs, Mrs Wilberforce recovered quickly, even remarking that she had never much liked Mrs Dent.
The guests, meanwhile, speculated endlessly. Lord Stanley handled every inquiry with vague explanations and his usual cool dismissiveness.
Charlotte, however, could not stop thinking about Mrs Dent.
If the Odd Fellows were involved, how had they discovered she was under suspicion? Or had guilt truly driven Mrs Dent to such an end?
No. Charlotte could not reconcile herself to it.
