The Endicott Evil Read online

  “How so?” Colin asked as he coaxed his spoon around the inside of the second soft-boiled egg he’d been served.

  Miss Whit’s smile took on a mischievous edge. “The lady is much more cooperative when she thinks I’m her mum or headmistress. I can usually cajole her when I’m her friend as well, but when she takes me for her sister . . .” She shrugged and gave a lopsided smirk. “. . . Sometimes I just have to leave the room and come in again. She doesn’t seem very fond of her sister.”

  “And how long have you been working for this woman?”

  “I picked up the assignment right after Miss Adelaide’s death.” She poured herself more tea, which was apparently the only thing she consumed for breakfast, though I had to remind myself that this was actually the end of her day, not the start, as it was for us.

  “Did you not take any time off after Miss Adelaide’s death?”

  “I don’t get paid to take time off,” she answered. “Thirty-six hours after Miss Adelaide’s fall I was already working for this one in Notting Hill. It’s not that I wasn’t sad for Miss Adelaide; it’s just the way of it. One person dies and there’s another right behind her who needs your help.” She gave a tiny shrug as her eyes drifted out the window of the small café off Bond Street where Freddie Nettle had arranged for us to meet with her.

  “Where do you get your assignments from?” Colin asked as he snatched another slice of toast from the caddy at the table’s center.

  “From a woman who does all sorts of placements. Her name is Mrs. Denholm.”

  “Yes . . .” Colin said with a sideways glance at me, “I believe Mr. Galloway mentioned her to us.”

  “That he did,” I reassured. “He said all of the placements at Layton Manor come through her.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.” Miss Whit’s smile blossomed again. “But I’m registered with her. A lot of the other nursing girls are. So when one job is completed, all one has to do is stop by Mrs. Denholm’s flat and she has another one as good as waiting to be taken on. That’s why I like nursing. It’s good steady work and it allows me to look after myself.” Her grin grew impishly. “I don’t intend to do the bidding of any bloke unless I want to.” She gave a ready laugh that we both could not help but join, given the infectiousness of her high spirits.

  “Good for you then,” Colin said. “Perhaps this suffrage movement of Mrs. Pankhurst’s is having an impact on some of our younger women after all.”

  “It certainly is on the ladies who have any sense.” Miss Whit beamed. “Let us not forget that our sovereign is a woman. What more proof of the capabilities of women should anyone need than that?”

  I could see by the clarity and defiance in her eyes that she truly believed a change of such magnitude should be as simple as that.

  “And it is women like you who shall see to that revolution.” Colin tipped his head as he pushed his empty plate to the side of the table.

  “Revolution . . .” she repeated with an exhalation of breath. “That makes it all seem so much more romantic.”

  “Romance, is it?” Colin said, managing not to laugh. “I’m afraid you must remember that the fabric of a society is never easily rewoven.” He flashed a meager smile. “But we have gotten rather far afield, so permit me to return us to the topic at hand. All the sooner that we can leave you to end your day, which I can only assume you must be eager to do.”

  She waved a quick hand at him as she continued to sip at her tea. “I find it nearly impossible to sleep after the end of a shift. With everyone else just starting their day, it feels somehow more difficult to give up my own.” She let out a sigh.

  “How did Miss Adelaide manage during the night? Do you believe she regularly suffered a greater degree of difficulty during that time?”

  “She did. But then I most often believe that to be the case. As soon as the sun sets and the shadows lengthen, anyone with a propensity toward fancy tends to find themselves all at odds.”

  “Is that what Miss Adelaide suffered then . . . ?” Colin cut in, “flights of fancy?”

  “Oh . . .” Miss Whit put a hand to her mouth and looked momentarily chagrined. “I didn’t mean to suggest that of Miss Adelaide. Miss Adelaide was the victim of her advancing age and the sort of hysteria that has crippled so many women for as long as it has existed.”

  One of Colin’s eyebrows snaked up as he flicked his gaze toward me before settling it almost immediately back on Miss Whit. “Whatever would Mrs. Pankhurst think to hear you spout such a diagnosis?”

  Miss Whit’s shoulders set squarely as she stared back at Colin. “It is fine for Mrs. Pankhurst to say whatever she wants, but she is neither trained in the science of medicine nor the mind. Miss Adelaide saw things and heard things that simply were not there. So unless you are about to tell me that you are an advocate of spiritualism, Mr. Pendragon, I believe the only other outcome you will be able to derive is that of hysteria.” Her self-satisfaction was evident as a slight smile cracked her lips.

  Colin did not even try to contain the laugh that burst forth. “You, Miss Whit, are most refreshing. Now tell me the truth, did you and Miss Adelaide get on well?”

  “Of course we did,” she answered at once, as though any other suggestion could hardly be conceived. “I wouldn’t have stayed with her if we hadn’t. I have already told you there is no shortage of people to work for.”

  “And how did Miss Bromstad—”

  “Bromley,” I corrected.

  “Yes . . .” He sniffed with disinterest. “How did Miss Bromley manage with Miss Adelaide?”

  “Miss Adelaide loved Philippa. She is the most patient person and ever so lovely. You simply must speak with her as well.”

  “And Mr. Nettle? How did he and Miss Adelaide get along?”

  “Well . . .” She hesitated an instant and glanced away as though trying to think of the right thing to say. “He was entirely indispensable, wasn’t he? She could hardly make a move without him. I’m sure they were very close under those circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?”

  Miss Whit swung her eyes back to us and looked almost startled. “He is a man after all, Mr. Pendragon. Propriety . . .”

  “Never mind propriety,” Colin pressed. “Did they get along? Did you perceive that Miss Adelaide was relatively close to him as one might expect, given the nature of his service to her . . . ? Or was there some level of tension between them?”

  “He tended to her,” she said again as though Colin must surely not realize what he was asking. “They were not companions or colleagues. She told him what to do and when to do it, and he followed her orders.”

  “Yes . . .” Colin bobbed his head, and I could feel his patience losing its moorings. “I am fully aware of the nature of the relationship between an employer and an employee. But I find it hard to believe that a woman of medical science, such as yourself, did not take note of any underlying tensions that may have existed between two people she spent a great deal of time around if she had, in fact, seen it.”

  I held my tongue and fought to keep my expression steady, certain she would find his ploy as overwrought as I had, but I was fooled. Her back stiffened and her eyes looked startled, almost to the point of offense, and it made me realize that I must commend Colin on our way out for recognizing this flaw in the young woman’s character.

  “I see that I have not made myself entirely clear,” she backtracked with the smoothness of glass. “Mr. Nettle was not so foolish as to permit any sort of disgruntlement to impact his tenure with either Miss Adelaide or Miss Eugenia. He is not an imprudent man. But neither can you suppose that he could have been wholly satisfied being at the perpetual will of an elderly woman who was not herself of sound mind. I am sorry, gentlemen, but it simply has to be said. It does not matter what Miss Eugenia wishes to be so; her older sister was a sorrowful case.” Miss Whit tugged at the pristine white sleeves of her uniform and ran a quick hand along the sides of her barely contained rabble of hair. “So given tho
se circumstances, I do believe Mr. Nettle handled himself as well as anyone could dare hope for. Even so, I cannot admit to having spotted any particular affection there. It would be unlikely in any event: We are professionals, after all. Even Mr. Nettle, in his own way.”

  “He did not harbor any animosity toward Miss Adelaide then . . . ?”

  “That would be as useless as raining fury upon a kitten or pup. What would be the sense in it?”

  Colin scratched at his chin and nodded thoughtfully, and I knew what his next question would be. “Then do you believe, given the seriousness of Miss Adelaide’s deteriorating condition, that she might have been capable of doing harm to herself?”

  Miss Whit cringed, the stiffness of her spine as rigid as it had been just a moment before. “That question . . .” She cast her gaze off across the café for the second time and looked to be lost in her thoughts once again. “I have asked myself that same question too many times since her death.” She shook her head and she shifted her eyes back to us. “Miss Adelaide was in a great deal of torment,” she continued. “We can say whatever we please about mysticism, but I can attest to the fact that she was haunted by what she believed she had seen and heard.”

  “Then you think it is possible . . .” Colin repeated, unwilling to finish the question for a second time.

  “How could it not be a consideration? She was quite terrified, Mr. Pendragon. There were members of the household staff who quit because of her ranting. And it was only growing worse—the visions coming more often. It had gotten so bad that on most nights I had to stay in her room with her, sitting right next to her bed, until she could fall asleep. Only then would I sneak out and leave her to the care of Mr. Nettle in her antechamber.”

  “I see. Was there anyone at all with whom you noticed Miss Adelaide having a strained relationship?”

  Miss Whit seemed to ponder that question a minute as I hastily settled the bill with the waitress. “The only cross words I ever heard from Miss Adelaide were directed at her sister,” she answered once the waitress had hustled off with a stack of our plates cradled in her arms. “Miss Eugenia had no patience for talk of tortured spirits prowling the hallways of her home.”

  “Was that the crux of their arguments? Do you recall what was said?”

  “Oh . . .” She shook her head. “I would never listen to such things. It was no concern of mine.”

  I suspected she was lying and felt certain Colin thought the same. A raised voice is an invitation to eavesdrop, and few are more capable at it than the upstairs staff at a great house. “But of course,” Colin said, tossing her a polite smile. “You have been most accommodating, Miss Whit. I hope you will permit us to contact you again should the need arise.”

  “You may depend on me, gentlemen.” She gave a generous smile of her own as she stood up and brushed at her uniform. “I was very fond of Miss Adelaide.”

  “It must be difficult to work so closely with a client for whom you know there can only be one eventual outcome.”

  “And so it is. Good day, gentlemen.” And with a simple nod of her head she turned and exited the café on nimble feet, her deportment as light and composed as her manner had been.

  “She certainly seems to be the right woman in the right job,” I said as she disappeared down the street.

  “Do you think?” Colin shifted his gaze to me. “I thought her something of a conundrum. But what really interests me are the rows between Miss Adelaide and Miss Eugenia. I think it time we pressure Mr. Fitzroy for some answers.”

  “Fitzroy? You mean Mr. Galloway?”

  He gave a dismissive wave of the hand as he pushed himself to his feet. “If you say so.”

  “I should hardly think we’ll get much from him,” I warned as I followed him out. “We have been fired from the case, so I doubt he will even let us into the house. He does seem quite fond of Miss Eugenia.”

  Colin waved me off yet again, tossing me a playful grin. “Oh, come now, Ethan. Do you really think I would allow such a triviality to get in the way of our solving this case? Do you not know me better than that?”

  “She was livid with me,” I hastened to remind him. “I don’t think there is anything I will be able to say or do to convince her to change her mind.”

  “Considering that you are the one who got us fired, I can hardly expect you to reacquaint us to the case,” he agreed as he raised an arm to hail a cab.

  “So you intend to persuade her then . . . ?” I said with untempered disbelief. “Perhaps I really don’t know you.”

  He chuckled. “You underestimate me. Neither one of us will have to act the conciliator.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Colin had not played fair.

  “The Yard appreciates your willingness to meet with us this afternoon, Miss Endicott,” Maurice Evans said as the three of us rose to our feet as she swept into her parlor. Displeasure marred her face the moment her eyes fell on me, tamping the obvious interest she had shown only an instant before.

  “And why ever would I not be willing? Heaven knows I have been trying to get the attention of Scotland Yard since my sister’s murder at the hands of that scoundrel Mr. Nettle.”

  “Which is precisely why we are here,” Mr. Evans replied with gentle patience, a feat I found rather extraordinary, given how little Colin had confided in him when we’d scooped him up from his office. “Mr. Pendragon has been quite persuasive around the potential for a shortsightedness on our part, and I intend to ensure no such error is made,” he added, though far less convincingly so, in my opinion.

  Nevertheless, Miss Eugenia’s icy glare appeared to thaw the thinnest sliver as she raked her gaze across me once more before settling it on Colin. “Has he?” She sniffed, maintaining a measure of disregard.

  “You see me here,” Mr. Evans volleyed back, turning his hands palm up and giving a smile that was nothing if not spirited.

  “Now you see . . .” Colin spoke up resolutely, “. . . you have presumed that your money has earned you nothing from us, and yet have I not now delivered an Acting Inspector of Scotland Yard to your parlor when you yourself were unable to accomplish such a thing?” Miss Eugenia blanched and stiffened as she continued to stare at Colin, but she did not speak a word. “I am quite certain I told you at the outset that I would need to ferret through every improbability around your sister’s death in order to be sure to arrive at the precise circumstances under which she was murdered. Perhaps that will ultimately lead us to your Mr. Nettle; at this point I cannot say. But in the meantime, you simply must permit me”—he threw a passing glance in my direction—“us. . . to speak with whomever we choose about your sister . . . this household”—he waved a hand glibly, as though to include the whole of the United Kingdom, which is exactly what I knew he meant to do—“or I shall have no other recourse than to suspect that you must have something to hide.” He abruptly leaned forward and studied her. “Do you have something to hide, Miss Endicott?”

  I thought she was about to seize up as her jaw unhinged and her shoulders sprang up around her ears. “What?!”

  “Why would Mr. Pruitt’s speaking with Lady Stuart provoke you to so abruptly end our services?” he pressed.

  “Because”—her eyes flew between the three of us, her body as rigid as if she had been physically struck—“that woman is a charlatan and a thief.”

  “A thief . . . ?” Colin’s eyebrows bolted for the ceiling as he slowly settled back again. “Her soothsaying may be something of a lark, but I have never known her to swindle anyone.”

  “I fail to see the difference. . . .” Miss Eugenia shot back.

  “She tells people what they want to hear for a nominal fee. They’re happy, she’s happy, where is the harm? A swindler, Miss Endicott, will rob you of your heart and hearth. Quite frankly, I fail to see the similarity.”

  Maurice Evans sucked in a quick breath and I wondered whether he was trying to suppress a wince or a guffaw. This was not going at all as I had anticipated. “Miss Endico
tt . . .” I began with all the gravitas I could muster, “. . . you cannot be faulted for doing what you believe to be correct, but neither can you fault us for doing what we must in pursuit of the truth. Mr. Pendragon has already assured you that he does not believe your sister took any action to harm herself. Now you must allow him to determine precisely what it was that did happen that night.”

  “I am certainly not seeking to have you hire us back,” Colin pointed out with just a hint too much satisfaction. “We are on retainer with the Yard now,” he lied, “so I should very much appreciate the cooperation of both you and your staff. That is all I ask.”

  Eugenia Endicott gave another sniff as she ran an idle finger up to poke at the gold-and-diamond necklace draped at her throat. It looked as carefree a gesture as I was convinced it was calculated, for Miss Endicott was far too polished to not realize exactly what she was doing. “Very well,” she finally agreed, acting every bit the condescending dowager we all knew her to be. “But you will get no accommodation from me with regards to that pretender.”

  “Nor shall any be required,” Colin answered indifferently. “However, I should quite like to know the true origin of your disregard for Lady Stuart. . . .”

  “Disregard . . . ?!” she repeated as though he had said something absurd. “You may be assured my antipathy toward that woman runs much deeper.”

  “And the reason . . . ?” Colin prodded with an inelegant fracture to his patience.

  “Really, Mr. Pendragon,” she huffed. “I should think that would be immediately evident. That woman did nothing but torment my sister. There is no secret that Adelaide was a delicate sort her entire life. It is simply the way of it. And that parasitic woman did nothing but fill Addie’s head with the type of nonsense and recklessness that stained the last years of her life. . . .” She snapped her mouth shut, pausing as if words alone were failing her. “Her behavior was unconscionable.”