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Daniel did not know what he expected, but not this dignified, slender woman with her black dress and white apron, and her ring of keys hanging from her belt. He had not grown up with a housekeeper, although he was used to servants. Some of them had been almost like members of the family. Ridiculously, he remembered the one maid of his childhood. Gracie Phipps was barely five foot tall and had unlimited courage, and opinions about everything. Later, when he was a young man, they had had a cook, a housemaid, and a manservant. Gracie was the one who stayed in his mind and later, Minnie Maude.
He stood up. ‘How do you do, Mrs Warlaby? Thank you for sparing your time.’
‘Mr Falthorne said you are trying to find some explanation of Mrs Graves’ death that does not blame Mr Graves,’ she said with a very direct stare. She had grey eyes and fading fair hair. She must have been a handsome woman in her youth. ‘I hope you are not going to raise false hopes for Miss Sarah and Mr Arthur. They are just beginning to accept this . . . this appalling situation . . .’
‘They were close to their mother?’ He gestured to the chair opposite her, but she declined, preferring to stand. It left him no choice but to stand also.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Very. What is it you think I may be able to tell you, Mr Pitt? If I knew anything relevant, I would have told the police.’
‘I’m sure you must have answered their questions. But I shall ask you different questions. I believe Mrs Graves was involved in various social issues? Such as female franchise, for example.’
Mrs Warlaby’s expression hardened and her chin came up a fraction. ‘Do you disapprove of that, Mr Pitt? Think it is deserving of death?’ Her voice shook a little, and she was unable to control it.
He made an instant decision. ‘Not at all, Mrs Warlaby. On the contrary, my own mother is a very strong fighter for such rights, and has been considerably more outspoken than is socially acceptable, in spite of my father’s position in the establishment.’ He said it with a rueful smile. It was perfectly true. But then his mother had been in a far higher situation in society, and her sister was both titled and extremely wealthy. It had never been sufficient to silence Charlotte Pitt’s opinions, especially where she felt injustice was involved.
Mrs Warlaby’s face softened, but she still looked dubious. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately, some of those most vehemently opposed are other women. I have asked my mother why, and she has a very dark opinion of them. Had she known Mrs Graves, I think she would have liked her, from what I have heard.’
There were tears in the housekeeper’s eyes, but she ignored them. ‘Oh, she would. She had a very fine, rich spirit! She never attacked people, or spoke ill of them. She used to make fun of them instead. But that can make you far more enemies than outright argument. She told me some of the situations, and we laughed till we cried.’ Mrs Warlaby sniffed and hunted for a handkerchief in her pocket.
Daniel gave her a moment in which to regain her composure. He gestured towards one of the chairs, and this time she accepted and sat down. ‘Tell me something about her,’ he requested. ‘I would like to be able to tell my mother something that was real, not just the usual good intentions.’ He settled to listen, not only as his job, but as his pleasure.
The picture Mrs Warlaby drew was far more vivid than anything others had said. She saw a woman who was passionate about causes, to the point of foolhardiness, sometimes beyond, scaldingly honest at times, but often extremely funny. The housekeeper was obviously very fond of her, and Daniel thought more loyal than accurate.
‘I wish I had known her,’ he said simply, when Mrs Warlaby drew to a close.
‘You would have liked her, sir,’ Mrs Warlaby said, and Daniel realised that that was a high compliment from the housekeeper.
‘We must be quite certain that we have the truth of her death.’
‘Yes, Mr Pitt,’ she agreed immediately.
‘Then tell me of the people who visited her here, in case there is someone who felt very violently against her cause. It must have been somebody she trusted, to have allowed them into her private rooms. They could not have followed her to her bedroom unless they were in the house and knew the way.’
Mrs Warlaby looked startled. ‘I suppose – I suppose you’re right. What a dreadful thing.’
‘Somebody did,’ he told her, curious that she should feel that even more deeply than that it should be her husband. That was a thought to investigate more fully.
He noted down the names that she gave him, and the causes they were allied with. Then he thanked her and promised to look into it. She stood up to leave, and he rose to his feet as well, as if they were of equal status.
She gave him a brief smile.
‘Mrs Warlaby, has anyone ever attacked her before? Struck her, or threatened to, that you know of?’
‘No . . .’ she hesitated.
‘Anyone at all . . .?’
‘Well . . .’
He guessed. ‘Mr Graves?’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘But that’s not a crime. She was his wife. And I thought you said you believed he was innocent . . .’
‘I believe he might be,’ he corrected. ‘And as you say, hitting someone and killing them are two quite different things.’
But when she had gone, he wondered how very different they were, actually. He could not imagine his father hitting his mother, no matter what she might do. And she was exasperating at times, when she was fighting for a cause she believed to be right and just. Quite often she was correct, too, but so far as Daniel knew, she did not remind Pitt of it.
