Nan flashed her a cheeky smile. “No, Miss Mira. My mother always says the Irish have a way with tall tales, and I guess my Irish half just got the better of me. I suppose I should feel guilty, spreading tales about my mother and playing on Mrs. Jenkins’s heartstrings like that. But desperate times…”
“Yes, well, I confess I have stretched the truth a bit myself in the name of our investigation. Under the circumstances, I believe we may be forgiven.”
“Alas, my fib did not earn me much. Mrs. Jenkins said that Lord Ashfield may be a strange bird, and act sinister, but he keeps to himself and has never raised a hand to the servants. Mr. Jeremy Ellerby has other, more pleasurable uses for his hands,” she continued with a wry smile. “And Lord Blackwell is more likely to dismiss you out of hand than he is to strike you.
“She did warn me that Lady Beatrix has a temper. Once she was dismounting from her horse and she slipped, almost fell. One of the footmen smirked at her, so she struck him with her riding crop.” Nan dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Left a scar,” she said, eyebrows raised in astonishment.
Mira shivered, thinking of the startling display of violence Lady Beatrix had shown just that night.
“But apparently none of the gentlemen of the house has a heavy hand,” Nan continued. “At least not that Mrs. Jenkins is aware, and I cannot imagine that anything happens in this house without her knowing.”
Mira smiled and impulsively gave Nan’s hand a squeeze. “Well done! I am not certain what to make of all the information you have uncovered, but I do not doubt it will prove useful.”
With a sly quirk of her eyebrow, Nan went on. “There is more. After my long cup of tea, I offered to help one of the upstairs maids, Liddy Carmichael. Liddy’s been working at Blackwell for years now, and she’s a hopeless gossip. While we were dusting the guest chambers, I let on to Liddy how worried I was for you, that it must be hard to be in your shoes after what happened to Miss Linworth. Just as I had hoped, Liddy jumped at the chance to spread stories about Miss Linworth’s murder.”
Mira leaned forward in eager anticipation. “What did she say? Did she know anything beyond what we have already heard?”
“Did she ever!” Nan said, a flush of excitement staining her cheeks. “The day Miss Linworth was found? Liddy said she went to light the fire in Miss Linworth’s chamber early that morning, before anyone knew that anything was amiss. She noticed straight off that Miss Linworth’s trunks were packed and stacked near the chamber door. Not packed well, though. There were bits of Miss Linworth’s pretty gowns peeking out from the lids. Probably ruined the gowns.”
“Hmmm. So either Miss Linworth’s maid packed her mistress’s things in a scandalous hurry or perhaps, Miss Linworth packed for herself.”
“Liddy also said that, a week later, Lady Beatrix sent her up to Miss Linworth’s chamber to scrub the carpet. It was stained with blood.”
Blood. The word hung in the air between them, ugly and dark.
“Is she certain?” Mira breathed, reluctant to disturb the grim hush. “How can she be certain? How can she know it was blood?”
Nan shook her head, her bright, anxious eyes fixed on Mira. “Miss Mira, a chambermaid would know. You have to figure out what a stain is before you can remove it. Dried blood has a distinctive color, a peculiar odor. Liddy may be a gossip, but she is not daft. She says it was blood, and I believe her.”
“Why was there blood in Miss Linworth’s bedchamber?” Mira mused aloud.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Nan drew herself up and captured Mira’s gaze with her own. She swallowed hard. “I think perhaps Miss Linworth was planning to flee,” she said, voice measured and carefully neutral. “I think Lord Ashfield saw her packed trunks and realized she was leaving. I think maybe that made him angry. Angry enough to kill her.”
Mira sat silent for a moment, deep in thought, staring at one of the whimsical birds painted on the wall. “Mmmm,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No.”
She fell silent again, collecting herself. Finally she faced Nan. “No,” she repeated emphatically. “It makes no sense. If Nicholas struck Miss Linworth, injured her in her own bedchamber, how did she end up dead at the base of the curtain wall?”