Consuelo felt a sudden impatience with the woman, although she understood Mrs. Raleigh’s concern. Not long ago, a valuable china box had disappeared from a table in the Green Drawing Room. Marlborough had discovered it missing, and a housemaid was accused. After everyone was thoroughly upset, he had told Consuelo that he himself had taken the box to see if its absence would be noticed. Since then, Mrs. Raleigh had supervised the housemaids more closely, although her supervision did not appear to extend to the nighttime hours, or to the locking of doors. Presumably, the missing maid had got out through an unlocked door.
Consuelo tried to conceal her impatience. “What was the girl’s name? Who on the staff knew her best?”
“Her name was Kitty, Your Grace.” Mrs. Raleigh watched uneasily as Consuelo wrote it down. “I suppose Ruth would have known her best.”
“Then I should like to speak to Ruth,” Consuelo said, feeling that somebody ought to make an effort to get to the bottom of this, and if Mrs. Raleigh wouldn’t do it, she would have to. What’s more, she was curious. It wasn’t like housemaids to disappear without their wages. “Now, if you please,” she added firmly.
Ruth was summoned from her duties and stood nervously before her, a sturdy young girl, pleasant-faced, her thick brown hair bound up under her cap. She could scarcely be sixteen.
Consuelo softened her tone. “Tell me, Ruth, what you think might have become of-” She looked down at her notes. “Of Kitty.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace,” Ruth said, biting her lip. “She went to bed same as me, but when morning come, that would be Saturday morning, she was gone. Sneaked right out, she did. Quietlike, or I would’ve heard her. I told Mrs. Raleigh straightaway,” she added, as though she were afraid she might be accused of concealment.
“Did she go off with someone, do you think?” Consuelo asked. “Did she have a young man?”
The girl frowned. “A… young man? I don’t think so, Your Grace. She never said.”
Consuelo tried another tack. “Well, then, where was she in service before she came here?”
“Welbeck Abbey, Your Grace,” Mrs. Raleigh put in officiously. “She had a fine character from the Duchess of Portland’s housekeeper. And before that, at Carleton House, in Manchester.”
A fine character. Consuelo knew what that meant. It wouldn’t surprise her if half the characters the new hires presented were forged, and although the housekeeper and butler were supposed to check, they didn’t always. But perhaps Ruth knew where the girl came from.
“Where was her home, Ruth?” she asked in a gentle voice. “Where are her people?”
Ruth shook her head, and then, as if she felt she should explain, added, “Us maids don’t talk much about ourselves, Your Grace. There’s not hardly time in the day, what with the work and that, and at meals there’s always somebody listenin’.” Her voice became self-pitying. “And at night we’re wore out. We’re asleep soon’s our heads hit the pillow.”
Consuelo suspected that there was plenty of time during the day for the maids to share personal secrets and household gossip, but she could not deny that by bedtime, they would be exhausted. A servant’s life was not an easy one. She would have done more to make it easier, if she could-would at least have heated the tower rooms where the girls slept, and laid on running water. But Marlborough disapproved of innovations in the house. Her Vanderbilt dowry was meant to restore Blenheim to its earlier glory, not to make it more habitable.
There was a little silence, and then Ruth added, almost as an afterthought, “But we did talk once, now that I think on’t. We walked to the village together on our last half-day off. Kitty wanted to see Fair Rosamund’s Well, and it was only a little out of the way, so we stopped for a look. She said she was meeting someone at the Black Prince, in Manor Road.”
“Meeting someone?” Mrs. Raleigh stared at the maid disapprovingly, over the tops of her glasses. “A young man?”
Ruth shook her head. “Oh, no, not a young man. He was waiting in front of the Prince for her, and I’d say he’s as old as my father. He had a red beard. She-”
“Well, then,” Mrs. Raleigh interrupted, obviously relieved. “I expect he was a relation.”
Consuelo wasn’t so sure of that, but there was no use in speculating. “Very well, Ruth,” she said. “Can you think of anything else?”
The girl glanced hesitantly at Mrs. Raleigh, then at Consuelo, then seemed to pluck up her courage. She licked her lips. “Well, yes, I can, Your Grace. You see, I’ve been wondering…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes?” With an inner sigh, Consuelo looked down at the seemingly endless list of chores in front of her. The weekend menu was next, a task she always dreaded, for the French chef was inclined to be a prima donna. Whenever he wanted to show his displeasure with her, he would serve ortolans-rare songbirds, considered a gourmet delight-to her guests for breakfast, because he knew that she considered these mortifyingly nouveau riche. One never knew what might set the man off. He hadn’t been at all pleased, for instance, when she’d sent word that they wanted a picnic lunch today.
She looked up to find the girl still standing there. “What were you wondering, Ruth?”
The girl ducked her head. “Whether I could have Kitty’s best dress. It would exactly fit my sister. She’s-”
“Kitty’s dress?” Consuelo asked, startled. “You mean, she went away and left her clothing behind, as well as her earnings?” She turned to Mrs. Raleigh. “Is this true?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace,” Mrs. Raleigh replied, flustered. “I didn’t think to ask-”
“So her things are still in the tower?” Consuelo asked the maid.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Ruth said, “in a trunk.” She went on eagerly, “There’s a skirt and blouse and winter cloak, if they’re wanted for the other maids. But this dress is made of blue wool, you see, with blue and black braid, and my sister is getting married and-”
“I think we might wait a while before we give away Kitty’s clothing,” Consuelo said quietly. “Thank you, Ruth. That will be all.”
After the girl had left the room, Consuelo sat for a moment, thinking. If the housemaid had left her clothing behind, especially her best dress, she had not gone off with some young man. But where could she be?
To Mrs. Raleigh, she said, “I think you should ask the other servants what they know about this missing girl. Since she has left both clothes and money, it is not unreasonable to think that she might have met with an accident.”
Mrs. Raleigh looked uncomfortable. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll have it looked into right away. And about the clothing, I must say that I-”
“Thank you,” Consuelo said firmly. “I also think that inquiries should be made at the Black Prince. The person Ruth mentioned, the man with the red beard, may still be there. Perhaps he can offer some clue as to Kitty’s whereabouts. And if he is indeed a relative, he will need to know that she is gone.”
Mrs. Raleigh stiffened. Even though she may have felt in the wrong about the girl, it was clear that she would go only so far to make amends. “If you will pardon me, Your Grace, inquiries at a village pub are the sort of thing the footmen should be asked to carry out. Shall I ring?”
Consuelo frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to send one of the footmen on this errand, for they would only gossip about it in the servants’ hall. It might be better if she asked the butler, who could perhaps manage it himself, without causing a commotion or creating gossip among the servants.
“I’ll speak to Mr. Stevens about it.” She glanced at the ormolu clock on the desk, stifling a sigh. It was nearly nine-thirty. “It’s time to get on with our work. Please tell Monsieur Carnot that I am ready to discuss the menus with him. And don’t forget that lunch is to be a picnic. Be sure that it is sent over to the Well so it’s waiting when we arrive. There’s to be champagne, of course, so don’t forget to arrange for the ice.”