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“Girls,” Mrs. Prescott admonished. “You will be better mannered than that.”
They stood at attention on opposite sides of the room, and I felt unsure. How was I to know which girl to believe? Either story could be accurate.
“What would you like to do?” Mrs. Prescott asked.
Lady Edith stood by, her hands clasped before her, and looked at me expectantly. Her expectant gaze felt like more of a test than an offer of support. It was all too much to place on my shoulders when I knew so little about these situations or how they were typically handled in such a large estate. I had only been privy to the underworkings of a small house—my own mother’s.
If my mama were here, she would guide me.
Perhaps that was my answer. What would Mama do in this case? I believed she would not take rash action. She would think carefully and perhaps question other servants until she discovered exactly what was occurring between the ladies. I could never live with myself if I mistakenly dismissed the wrong person.
“I need a day to make a decision.”
Lady Edith’s gray eyebrows rose on her delicate forehead. “So long?”
“Yes. I need an entire day to ponder. Then I will inform you of my decision.”
Lady Edith and Mrs. Prescott both appeared as though they wished to argue, but they had put this decision on my shoulders, and this was how I chose to handle it. If my mother-in-law disapproved of my methods, then I would undoubtedly fall lower in her esteem.
I only hoped I could prove my plan successful. I looked at each of the maids quickly before leaving the room, and their expressions surprised me—for I had not expected Janet to be the one to appear relieved by my postponing the verdict, and Molly frustrated.
When I reached the main floor, I found the nearest footman. “Are you familiar with all the maids?”
The footman looked to the side, uncomfortable.
I was quick to reassure him. “I do not mean overly familiar. I only want to know if you are familiar with their characters.”
“Yes, I believe I am.”
“And who, in your opinion, is the most honorably behaved?”
He narrowed his eyes at the floor. I felt for him—surely he believed he was being tested in some way—but I needed an answer, so I did not relent. I waited patiently.
He cleared his throat. “I suppose that would be Hannah, ma’am.”
It would have been much too simple for him to have named one of the girls in question, of course. “Thank you,” I said again, and left. I needed to find Hannah.
Or, better yet, send for her.
The drawing room was empty now, and I wagered that James had escaped with Benedict for that ride. If Lady Edith returned to her embroidery there, though, I did not want for her to find me in the midst of my investigation and intervene or watch too closely. Spinning on my heel, I left for the library. It was a smaller room and would be comfortable and quiet.
And then, perhaps, I could sneak in a little reading when the interview was complete.
I passed Forester, the butler, on my way upstairs. “Could you send Hannah to the library, please?”
“Of course,” he said.
The house was silent, my footsteps clipping loudly on the marble floor. I was glad to reach the carpeted library and released a long sigh once I was safely indoors.
“I feel obligated to warn you that you are not alone,” a deep voice said, disembodied, for I saw no evidence of another person in the long, narrow room.
“Who is speaking?”
A hand raised in the air at the end of the room behind a tufted, wingback chair, and then Henry lifted his head to send me a smile.
I crossed the room but remained standing. Hannah would be here soon. “Drat you Bradwell men and your affinity for being in libraries when I would prefer to be alone.”
“I can leave you alone,” he offered.
