Murder Has No Class (17 page)

Grace wiped her hands on her apron, while Olivia threw down her tea towel.

“First thing in the morning, mind,” the cook called after them as they rushed for the door. “And take oil lamps with you. All the gas lamps have been turned off in there.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wilkins!” they chorused together, then fled for the dining room.

Arriving breathless at the door, Grace pushed it open. Holding up her lamp, she walked inside and up to the first table. The chaos that met her eyes made her gasp. The remains of food lay everywhere, splattered all over the benches and the floor—even on the walls. Broken dishes lay scattered about and someone had taken off her shirtwaist and thrown it up over a rung of the gas chandelier.

Grace’s eyes widened. “Look at that. It’s a wonder it didn’t catch fire and burn the place down.”

Olivia set her lamp down on the end of the table, making it even easier to see the mess created by the rebelling students. “I know. I saw it when we were in here before. That’s what gave me the idea.”

Grace frowned at her. “What idea?”

“The idea of how we can get the girls out of here without being noticed.”

“And how, exactly, are we going to do that?”

“It’s easy.” Olivia grinned, her teeth reflecting white in the flickering light from her lamp. “We start a fire. While everyone is in here trying to put it out, we smuggle our protestors out the back door.”

Speechless, Grace could only stand staring at her with her mouth open. She must not have heard right. Surely,
surely,
Olivia wasn’t planning on burning down the school just to hold a protest?

 

 

“This is so kind of you, Mrs. Wilkins.” Meredith helped herself to another sandwich and glanced at Felicity and Essie, both of whom were munching away as if it were to be their last meal.

“Not at all, Mrs. Lewellyn. Happy to do it, I’m sure.” If the cook was curious as to why all three tutors were in her kitchen late in the evening, eating sandwiches instead of a nice meal, she gave no indication. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I think I’ll toddle off to bed. I have to be up early in the morning.”

Feeling a little guilty about keeping her working so late, Meredith waved her hand. “Oh, please, do go. We will tidy up here when we’re finished.”

“Oh, don’t bother. The maids will see to it.” The cook smiled. “It will keep them out of mischief. Those two can be quite a headache at times, that they can.”

“It does seem, though, that Olivia and Grace have been behaving themselves quite well lately.” Meredith placed the thick, roast pork sandwich on her plate. “I hope they learned their lesson from the last time they were in trouble.”

“Oh, I certainly hope so, m’m.” Mrs. Wilkins placed a hand over her heart and walked back to the table, making Meredith wish she had ended the conversation, leaving her free to eat her sandwich. “But I can’t help feeling they’re up to something again. They’ve had their heads together quite a few times lately, and then they shut up whenever I get near them. That’s not a good sign.”

Meredith felt a pang of uneasiness. “No, it isn’t. I’ve noticed the students are a little restless, too, but I put it down to the approach of summer. This time of year always seems to stir their blood, for some reason.”

“Yes, m’m. Well, I just hope that’s all it is this time. I gave both the maids a good talking to, I did, and I hope they took it to heart. They are so caught up in this women’s rights movement these days. All this nonsense is going to get them put in jail, I told them. Then where would they be? Mr. Hamilton would never let them come back here once they got out, that’s for certain.”

At the mention of Hamilton’s name, Meredith paled. “Well, keep a stern eye on them, Mrs. Wilkins. Let us hope this is no more than a case of spring fever.”

“Amen.” Mrs. Wilkins crossed herself and left.

“What was all that about?” Felicity reached for a bacon sandwich.

“I don’t know,” Meredith said slowly, “but I have a rather nasty feeling that something is brewing in the wind. We had better stay on our toes, ladies, or we might once again have cause to bring the wrath of Mr. Hamilton down on our heads.”

 

 

Having slept through the night without any interruptions from the ghost of James Stalham, Meredith arose the next morning feeling a little more optimistic. The sun was shining, the birds sang in the trees outside her window, and today was the first of May. Summer, with all its glorious warm sunshine, the tennis and croquet tournaments, perhaps an afternoon or two punting on the river and walks among the fragrant blossoms in the gardens, was only a few weeks away.

Throwing open her window, Meredith pulled in a deep, deep breath of cool, fresh air. It smelled of newly cut grass and the fragrance of lilac. It was Saturday. Time for a nice walk in the grounds to see what Tom, the gardener, had been planting lately.

She turned back to the room, her gasp rising in her throat when she saw the pink mist swirling in the corner. “Oh, no. Not you again.”

James seemed agitated, and kept disappearing, only to appear for a brief moment before vanishing again in the folds of the pink cloud.

Alarmed, Meredith edged closer to him. “Wait, don’t go.”

Her powers had an unfortunate way of weakening just at the crucial time when she needed the contact the most.

Staring at the thinning mist, she held out her hand. “Be strong, James. I know I haven’t made much progress, but I’ll keep trying. I’ll go back there and talk to Smithers.”

At her mention of the butler, the mist grew dense and dark. Angry red coils of vapor spiraled around the image of the aristocrat. His eyes burned with hostility, and his lip curled, baring his teeth and frightening Meredith out of her wits.

“I take it you don’t like Smithers,” she said, shrinking back when James raised his fist and punched the air. “Well, I don’t like him, either. Is there any specific reason you hate him so?”

James grabbed his throat, tilted his head on one side, and stuck out his tongue.

Immediately Meredith felt remorse. “Oh, of course. It was because of his testimony that you were convicted.”

James straightened his head, his eyes flashing in agreement.

He mouthed something and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I—”

She broke off as James cupped a hand over his mouth, then flapped his fingers against his thumb and violently shook his head.

“You’re saying he lied!” she said, with a rush of triumph. “I know. He lied about someone else being there that night. Pauline Suchier was there.”

James nodded, then began to fade rapidly into the swirling folds of the mist.

“And your mother,” Meredith added.

For a brief moment James’s face registered shock and disbelief, and then he was gone, the remnants of the mist curling down to the floor before disappearing altogether.

He hadn’t known. Meredith walked over to her bed and sat down. If Lady Clara had been at the house that night, James had no knowledge of it. Why hadn’t his mother spoken up when Smithers lied on the stand? Did she really believe her son was guilty of murder? Or had Winnie been mistaken about who she’d seen that night?

She should talk to Lady Clara, Meredith thought, as she climbed to her feet. But that meant a trip to London, and that wouldn’t be possible until half term, which was still six weeks away.

She would go back to the estate instead, alone this time, and confront Smithers with what she knew. It might also help if she had a word with Inspector Dawson. He might be able to give her some advice. He was far more approachable than P.C. Shipham and, being his superior, in a better position to advise her.

Besides, she rather enjoyed talking to the enigmatic policeman, and it was May Day, after all. The students were all confined to their rooms for the day. She had plenty of time to do whatever she wanted, and perhaps even enjoy some of the festivities in the village before she had to return.

When she announced her plans to Felicity and Essie in the teacher’s lounge later, they both seemed put out to be excluded. “I don’t like the idea of you going back to that place alone,” Felicity said, while Essie sat biting her fingernails. “I don’t trust that butler. He has an evil look in his eyes.”

“I’m sure he’s quite harmless,” Meredith murmured, being sure of no such thing. “He’s more likely to talk to me if I’m on my own.”

“If he didn’t tell Essie much of anything, what gives you the idea he’ll talk to you?”

Essie looked alarmed. “I don’t want to go back there. That man frightens me.”

“He’s told Essie all he’s going to tell her.” Meredith buttoned up her coat and picked up her gloves. “I need to confront him myself and try to get the truth out of him. So far, all we have is suspects.”

“At least two,” Felicity muttered. “Pauline Suchier for one, and possibly Lady Clara, though I have to agree with Essie that she’s an unlikely candidate, mostly because it’s hard to imagine a mother allowing her son to hang for a crime she committed.”

“Anything is possible. It seems quite a few people lied about what was going on that night.”

“Either lied or left out important evidence.” Meredith pulled on the other glove. “In any case, since Smithers was the first one to arrive on the scene, I might learn something that could help us sort all this out.”

“Well, at the very least,” Felicity said, looking far from reassured, “since the students are all confined to their rooms and we’re not all needed here, why don’t you meet us later this afternoon on the village green. We can all enjoy the dancing together.”

Meredith smiled. “That sounds like a marvelous idea. Shall we say about two o’clock? I believe the dancing begins at that time.”

“Two o’clock it is.”

As Meredith turned to leave, Felicity added urgently, “Be careful, Meredith. Don’t take any undue chances.”

“I’ll be careful.” Meredith paused at the door. “I shan’t be quite alone, you know. I shall have Reggie with me, if the need for help should arise.”

Felicity frowned. “Is that supposed to make us feel better?”

Essie uttered a nervous giggle. “Any port in a storm.”

“Exactly.” With a casual wave of her hand, Meredith sailed out the door.

 

 

Mrs. Wilkins glanced up at the clock, gritting her teeth in frustration. She’d sent the maids to fetch the dirty dishes at least an hour ago. Where the devil were they? They should have been back long before this.

With an annoyed clicking of her tongue, the cook pulled off her apron. She would have to go and look for the pesky girls. It was bad enough that they’d had to serve breakfast in the rooms this morning, thanks to Mr. Hamilton’s orders. Not that the students would take too much notice of that. They were very good at coming up with excuses why they weren’t in their rooms for inspection.

The problem was, it had taken much longer than usual to serve up all those breakfast trays, disrupting her schedule, and now she had to wait for the maids to bring back all those trays, get the dishes washed and dried and then get ready for the midday meal, which was going to be really late at this rate. Drat Stuart Hamilton. What the heck did he know about school schedules anyway?

Muttering and moaning to herself, she headed for the door. Just as she reached it, the most dreadful clanging echoed down the hallway outside. Enough to give her a headache. Unbelievable. Why in heaven did the teachers decide to hold a fire drill today of all days? Didn’t they know that the pupils were supposed to stay in their rooms?

Stomping up the kitchen steps, Mrs. Wilkins puffed and grunted, ready to let fly at the first person who had the misfortune to cross her path.

She reached the top of the steps, to be greeted by what sounded like a flock of agitated geese. Students streamed across the lobby, laughing and shoving each other in complete disregard for the rules of etiquette. Some were actually fighting to get through the door and out into the sunshine.

Mrs. Wilkins shook her head in disgust. The tutors would have their hands full this morning, all right. She searched the crowd of jostling students and caught sight of Miss Cross’s head above the rest. The maids had to be on their way out, too. She wondered if they’d taken the trays down to the kitchen before joining everyone outside.

She was about to raise a hand to catch Miss Cross’s attention when something else distracted her. Smoke. She could swear she could smell smoke.

For a moment she wondered if it was her imagination, triggered perhaps by the fire drill. Then she saw it—a wisp of smoke curling down the hallway that led to the dining room. Waiting no longer, she barged through the mass of giggling girls and shot out the door into the fresh air.

Chapter 14

In the upstairs hallway, Grace stood guard while Olivia herded about a dozen would-be protestors out of their rooms and down toward the stairs.