Part 17 (1/2)

”In a way, Miss Winfield's obsession helped her,” Jim observed. ”It gave her a purpose, a goal, a reason to get up every day and go on living.”

”What was her goal?” Emma asked.

”She wanted to make sure that Peter's twenty-first birthday was celebrated properly,” Jim replied. ”She wanted Peter to have that which Derek had willingly given up-the t.i.tle, the prestige, the wealth. She spelled out her plan explicitly in her letters. . . .”

Winnie began to reestablish her credentials in the service industry. She went to court and changed her last name to Chambers. She used the contacts she'd made while waitressing at the fancy London restaurant and started at the bottom, cleaning the houses of the restaurant's well-heeled customers. She acc.u.mulated references and worked her way up through the ranks. By the end of the decade, Charlotte Chambers was more than qualified to sign on with the agency Giddings patronized.

”When Giddings requested a respectable maid-of-all-work four months ago, she was ready.” Jim closed his laptop. ”I can't speak to her actions after she came to Hailesham.”

”Let's hope Giddings can,” said Lord Elstyn.

The earl touched the b.u.t.ton on his desk and Giddings entered the study. The elderly manservant was accompanied by a dark-suited underling carrying a large cardboard box. The nameless a.s.sistant deposited the box on the desk, beside Jim Huang's computer, and stood back. Giddings took his place beside the earl's desk.

”Well?” said Lord Elstyn.

Giddings bowed. ”Please allow me to offer my sincerest apologies, my lord. Had I been more alert, I might have-”

”Yes, all right Giddings,” the earl barked, ”get on with it.”

Giddings straightened with alacrity. ”We searched the servants' quarters, my lord, as you requested. I'm afraid we made some rather disturbing discoveries.”

Lord Elstyn eyed the box suspiciously as Giddings drew from it a clear plastic bag containing a sheet of paper. The paper looked as if it had been crumpled, then smoothed flat.

”We found this doc.u.ment and many others like it in Miss . . . Winfield's room,” said Giddings. ”I believe, with regret, that she obtained the doc.u.ments from your waste receptacle, my lord, in the course of her normal duties.”

Lord Elstyn nodded grimly for Giddings to go on.

Giddings lifted a second plastic bag from the box. It seemed to contain a cloth cap. A third bag held what appeared to be a pair of rough trousers. A fourth held a moth-eaten woolen sweater.

”When I approached Miss Winfield's wardrobe,” Giddings explained, ”I detected a strong scent of paraffin, similar to the scent you noted on the night of the fire, my lord.” He swept a hand over the bagged clothing. ”These items of apparel were hidden well back in the wardrobe. I can only a.s.sume that Miss Winfield used them to disguise herself when she retrieved the paraffin from the greenhouse and used it to set the topiary ablaze.”

Beside me, Simon stirred. He put his hand in his pocket, walked to the desk, and deposited the straight razor atop the pile of bagged clothing.

”It's one of your old cutthroats, Uncle,” he said to the earl. ”You must have given it to Chambers, who left it behind when he abandoned Winnie. I believe she left it in the nursery.”

”The nursery?” Lord Elstyn queried.

”She cut up the children's books,” Simon told him. ”She used the books in the nursery to create her anonymous threats. You'll find paper and paste in the toy cupboard.”

”Thank you, sir,” said Giddings. ”We shall look into it immediately.”

Simon returned to my side. There was no trace of triumph in his demeanor. He looked self-conscious and ashamed, as if grieved by the knowledge that he could no longer plead innocent to Winnie's charge of betrayal.

”You did the right thing,” I murmured. ”If you hadn't told them, I would have.”

”It's like kicking a child,” he said sadly.

”A dangerous child,” I reminded him.

Giddings lifted another clear plastic bag from the cardboard box. ”I'm not entirely certain whether this item is relevant or not, my lord, but since it was bundled with the clothing, I thought it best to bring it along. It has antennae, my lord. It appears to be a control mechanism of some kind.”

”I know what it is.” Lord Elstyn lifted the coil of wire and let it drop, as though he couldn't bear to touch it. ”It was used to control an evil device hidden in the ivy covering the hurdles. My granddaughter informed me this morning that Ms. Shepherd discovered the device last night.”

Simon looked down at me. ”When did you . . .”

”After I left you, it just came to me,” I muttered, offering a reasonable approximation of the truth. ”Your fall, Nell's-no accident.”

”Miss Winfield tried to kill Simon twice, to prevent him from taking my son's place,” Lord Elstyn was saying. ”She used remote-controlled flashbulbs to spook Deacon. The second time, she mistook Eleanor for Simon.”

”Dear Lord . . .” Simon gasped angrily and raised his voice to Giddings. ”How could you allow her to come under our roof? Didn't you recognize her?”

”It has been almost forty years, sir, since I last encountered Miss Winfield,” Giddings replied with unflappable aplomb. ”Her appearance has altered greatly.”

His words tweaked my memory and I began to see the light. ”She put on weight,” I said. ”She dyed her hair red.”

”Madam?” said Giddings with polite perplexity.

”She's masquerading as the red-haired maid.” I pointed at Jim Huang. ”Jim told us that Winnie played the organ at her church. I caught the red-haired maid playing the piano in the drawing room yesterday. She must be-”

”I don't believe it,” Derek declared. He stared stubbornly at his father. ”Winnie might have threatened Simon. She might even have burnt the turtledove in some misguided effort to help me. But attempted murder? Never. Not Winnie. She couldn't do such a thing.”

”I knew you would resist the idea,” said Lord Elstyn. ”I'd hoped to avoid a direct confrontation, but . . .” He reached for the b.u.t.ton on his desk.

Twenty-two.

Giddings scooped up the bagged items and dropped them into the box, which his a.s.sistant whisked out of sight behind the desk. The elderly manservant then straightened his tie and went to stand at the door.

The door opened. The red-haired maid entered, carrying the tea tray. She curtsied.

”More tea, sir?” she asked.

”No, thank you,” said Giddings, and took the tray from her.

The maid glanced up at his forbidding scowl. Her eyes darted from face to face around the room. When they met Derek's, he half rose from his chair.

”Winnie?” he said.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her lashes. When she looked up again, her face was wreathed in the sweetest of smiles.

”Now, Master Anthony, what did I tell you about standing when a servant comes into the room?” she chided.

She smoothed her ap.r.o.n and approached Derek, who'd sunk back into his chair. He was so tall and she so tiny that when she stood before him, they were nearly eye to eye.

”Didn't I tell you to stand only for ladies?” she asked. ”Polite indifference, that's what you show to servants, remember?”

”Yes, Winnie,” said Derek.