Page 29 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
“Exactly.” Mrs. Kennedy’s lips pinched. “As for Faith going into the disused wing and falling headfirst down the stairs—why would she have done any such thing? She’d worked in this house since she was a girl—she knew the place, even what’s now the disused wing, like the back of her hand. She could have walked the whole place blindfolded. Falling down the stairs?” Mrs. Kennedy made a disgustedly dismissive sound. “Nonsense!”
“Aye—and they were both hale and hearty when they sat down to dinner with us all that last night,” Gwen offered.
“Indeed they were,” Mrs. Kennedy said. “And then…they were dead.”
Both women looked confounded, as if they were still having difficulty believing that was truly the case.
Lucilla let a moment pass, then asked, “I take it you know of no one who wished the sisters, or the family, ill?”
Both women regarded her, then, slowly, they shook their heads.
“Well liked, they were—the pair of them,” Gwen said.
Reviewing all she knew, and all that she didn’t, Lucilla asked, “That last night they were here. What do you think they—each of them—did after you all parted for the night?”
“Well, Faith remained up for a time.” Gwen pointed to an old tapestry bag set on the top of a big dresser. “She used to knit every night while she waited for the bell to make the laird’s nightcap and take it up to him.”
“Nowadays, that’s often very late,” Mrs. Kennedy said. “Because he sleeps such odd hours, I suppose.”
Gwen nodded. “It was sometimes midnight or later before Edgar—he’s the master’s manservant—would ring.”
“So did Faith take the laird’s nightcap up to him that night?” Lucilla asked.
Mrs. Kennedy exchanged a look with Gwen. “Aye. She must have.”
“Else we’d’ve heard about it, no question,” Gwen said. “And, now I think of it, Edgar brought down the empty pot and cup the next morning on the tray, just like he always does. He didn’t know Faith was missing—we’d only just realized that ourselves.”
“So,” Lucilla said, “Faith made up a pot of tea and took a tray up to the laird’s room—I assume that’s on the first floor?”
“Aye,” Mrs. Kennedy replied. “It is. Not far from the head of the main stairs.”
“Which stairs would Faith have used?” Lucilla asked.
“The staff stairs that go up close by the main stairs,” Mrs. Kennedy replied.
Lucilla nodded. “All right. So we know that Faith made the tea and took the tray up, presumably by her usual route.” She paused, then asked, “What would she normally have done next? Come back here?”
Both women shook their heads.
“She would have come straight up to bed,” Mrs. Kennedy said. “All of us have rooms in the attics on the third floor. She would have taken the same stairs to come up.”
“That’s why Edgar always kept the tray and brought it down the next morning,” Gwen said. “So Faith could go straight up and not have to wait and take the tray down again.”
Lucilla decided she would need to look at exactly where Faith’s body had been found. “All right—that accounts for Faith. She behaved normally until after she parted from Edgar at the laird’s door. She should have gone up to her room, but, for some reason, she went into the disused wing and ended up falling down the stairs. Let’s turn to Joy. She lived here, in the manor, didn’t she?”
Both women nodded.
“Her room was next to Faith’s,” Gwen offered.
“Very well. So tell me what you know of what Joy did that night. When did the summons to aid the Bradshaws arrive?”
“We were all already in bed.” Mrs. Kennedy shot an affectionate glance at Gwen. “Some of us, the kitchen staff at least, would probably have been well and truly asleep.”
Gwen grimaced, but nodded. “Aye—I don’t remember much. Just hearing the back bell ring like the dickens and Ferguson go down.”
Mrs. Kennedy leaned her elbows on the table, her mug held in her hands. “Ferguson came up a minute later and knocked on Joy’s door. I’d got up to see what was happening. Ferguson told Joy about the Bradshaws needing her help right away, and Joy nodded and said she’d go. She said there was moonlight enough for her to find her way.” Mrs. Kennedy met Lucilla’s eyes. “Like Faith, Joy was born on the estate—she knew the land that well she never had a qualm about going out in the dead of night.”
Lucilla nodded. Piecing the events together in her mind, she asked, “About what time did Joy go downstairs?”
