Page 27 of Lies in Little Sutherland
Tidwell nodded.“I know what it means, Miss Darling.I would not be in a position to have had such information.”
“No, of course not,” I said.“Never mind, Tidwell.Forget I asked.”
He took pity on me.“I was head footman when Lydia Morrison worked here.I don’t recall a relationship with anyone.She must have kept it quiet, if so.”
“Did she have any particular friends amongst the staff, do you recall?Someone who might remember the details?”
“I don’t believe so,” Tidwell said.“She came from Somerset with Lady Charlotte, and was only here for a couple of years before she left again.The only person I remember her being close to, was milady.”
Until milady shipped her off to London and Lady Peckham.
“Thank you, Tidwell,” I said.“We won’t keep you from your supper any longer.”
He nodded.“Thank you, Miss Darling.Miss Peckham.”
The other servants murmured their goodbyes, and we took our leave.
“Anything?”Constance wanted to know when we were out of the staff quarters and on our way down the hallway toward the drawing room and the others.
I glanced at her.“Not aside from the obvious.You?”
She shook her head.“No one seemed particularly murderous.”
My lips twitched.“Did you think someone might be?The staff would have had even less time than the rest of us to motor from Wiltshire to Upper Slaughter and back before breakfast.We just come downstairs and eat.They have to cook the food first.”
“Not all of them,” Constance said.“Tidwell doesn’t make breakfast.”
“Of course not.But he’s the last in the household to go to bed.When everyone else has retired, he goes around and turns out all the lights and makes certain all the doors are locked.”
“That means nobody may have noticed him leaving,” Constance said.
She had a point, of course.Or would have had, had I been able to wrap my head around Tidwell as the main suspect.
As it was, I tried, but it was impossible.I shook my head.“I don’t think it’s Tidwell, Constance.He had no reason to want Morrison dead.He hasn’t seen her in twenty-odd years, I imagine.She hasn’t been back here in that time, as far as I know.”
By the time Lady Peckham got here for Aunt Charlotte’s funeral, Morrison had already left her employ a week or so earlier.
“But he did know her twenty-odd years ago,” Constance pointed out, “and no one else did.”
“Cook might have done.But you’re right about that.”
Constance looked mollified, and I continued, “Although if something was going on with them back when they were both employed here, something that made him want her dead?—”
“Such as a baby on the way,” Constance interjected.
I nodded.“Such as.But if so, don’t you think he would have followed her to London and killed her then?He’s had plenty of time and opportunity since she left.It’s not as if she’s been in hiding.”
Not until the past six months, at any rate.
Constance didn’t say anything to that, and I added, “I’d believe it of Cook or Mrs.Mason before I’d believe it of Tidwell.He really is the best part of Sutherland Hall.Surely you’ve heard me say so?”
“I’m fairly certain you think the best part of Sutherland Hall is Lord St George,” Constance said dryly and tucked a hand through my arm.“Whatever were you thinking earlier, Pippa?Aunt Effie looked as though she was about to have a coronary.And I wouldn’t be surprised if Laetitia tried to poison you later.Don’t drink anything you haven’t poured out yourself for the rest of the time we’re here.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her, “I won’t.”I learned that lesson after what happened at the Dower House in May, and had it reinforced last month at the Savoy.“I won’t touch anything from anyone other than you and Francis and Christopher.”
“And your aunt and uncle, I suppose.”
“Roz and Herbert,” I said, “yes.Harold, no.”
