“Probably,” agreed Sebastian. “So then the question becomes, why didn’t the killer leave them to be found with her body?”
A step in the hall brought Sebastian’s head around. A mousy, painfully thin woman appeared in the doorway, her hands twisting in her apron. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, her face sharp boned, her pale gray gaze shifting uncertainly from Sebastian to Archie Rawlins and back again.
“Mr. McBroom says there’s a justice of the peace who’s wishful of speakin’ to me about Mrs. Chance?”
Rawlins scrambled to his feet. “I’m the justice of the peace. You’re Peg? Emma Chance’s abigail?”
“Yes, sir.” The abigail dropped a quick curtsy. “Peg Fletcher, sir. Only, I don’t rightly know how much I can tell you about the lady. Haven’t been with her above a week, I haven’t. She hired me in Ludlow, right before she come here.”
The young Squire glanced at Sebastian, who said, “Who recommended you to her?”
“I suppose you could say I recommended myself. I mean, I was working at the Feathers, where she was staying. Offered me a whole five pounds to come here with her and be her lady’s maid, she did. Said it was only to be for a week or two, though I wasn’t supposed to let on to nobody that she’d only just hired me.” The abigail sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Now that she’s dead, I reckon it’s all right to tell. Ain’t it?”
“You must tell us everything you know about her,” said Rawlins.
Peg stared at him, her eyes wide in a plain, colorless face. “But I don’t know nothin’ about her. Truly, I don’t.”
Archie Rawlins threw Sebastian a helpless glance.
Sebastian said, “Did she ever talk to you about her life? Where she came from? Her family? That sort of thing?”
Peg screwed up her face in thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t recollect ever hearing her talk about nothing like that. She weren’t one to chatter the way most ladies do.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Yesterday afternoon, sir. She said she was going out sketching and probably wouldn’t be back till near sunset.”
Rawlins looked horrified. “Yet you didn’t become concerned when she never reappeared?”
The abigail took an uncertain step back. “Well, I suppose I did, a bit. I mean, I thought it peculiar. But how was I to know what was usual for her and what wasn’t? When it started gettin’ dark and she still hadn’t come back, I went to bed. I reckoned if she wanted me, she’d get me up.”
“And this morning?” said Sebastian.
Peg shrugged. “I figured she must be having a bit of a lie-in. I mean, stands to reason, don’t it, if she’d been out late?” Again she glanced from Sebastian to Archie, as if seeking approval or at least understanding for her behavior.
Sebastian studied the woman’s pale, frightened face. “You said she went out sketching yesterday afternoon. Do you know what she did yesterday morning?”
“Well, she said she was gonna draw the church. But whether she did or not, I can’t rightly say. She was always sketching.” Peg sucked in a deep breath and set her jaw. “The thing I wants to know is, now that she’s dead, how’m I to get back to Ludlow?”
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to go anywhere for a few days,” said Rawlins. “At least not until after the inquest.”
She stared at him. “But . . . how’m I to eat? Who’s gonna pay my reckoning here at the inn?” Her voice rose to a panicked pitch. “How’m I to get the five pounds what’s owed me?”
It was obvious from the expression on Archie’s face that he had never given a moment’s thought to the predicament faced by a servant left destitute and far from home by the unexpected death of a mistress. “Well . . . I suppose we can consider your claims against Mrs. Chance’s estate after the inquest. In the meanwhile, I’ll have a talk with Mr. McBroom.”
Peg looked doubtful.
Sebastian said, “Can you tell us anything at all about Emma Chance—anything that might help make sense of what happened to her?”
Peg’s eyebrows drew together in a wary frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What was she like as a mistress, for instance? Was she harsh? Demanding?”
“Oh, no, she was right kind, she was. Always saying please and thank you whenever I did anything for her. And she was never one for putting on grand airs, the way some do.”
“Yet you’ve no idea where she came from?” asked Archie.
The abigail shook her head. “She was more’n a bit secretive, if you know what I mean?”
“Secretive about—what?”
“About everything. If you ask me, there was something havey-cavey about her, for all she was so nice. There’s more’n once I’ve found myself wondering if I made a mistake, agreeing to come here with her.”
“Why’s that?” asked Sebastian.
“Well, for one thing, I wouldn’t be surprised if her real name ain’t something other than what she claimed it was.”