The Three of Spades

The Motivation

The MotivationThis gave Mrs. Amelia Dewey a decided motivation to have switched my morning tea. And she’d been quite close with Mrs. Crawford in the weeks before Mrs. Crawford fled.

Yet I wasn’t sure of how to broach the matter. I wasn’t sure if Amelia had even known what the tea meant.

No, I decided. I’d say nothing until my body was cleansed. If she did have a part in this, though, nothing would stop me from making sure she never worked as a lady’s maid again.

I loved watching the rain fall past the veranda’s eaves. But the breeze was a bit chill, and I’d been sitting too long. So I put out my cigarette and rose to get my shawl. “Leave this here,” I told Shanna. “I’ll be right back.”

The girl curtsied. “Might I get something for you, mum?”

I suppose she could have gotten my shawl for me, but I had other matters to tend to. “If there are any more of those tuna salad sandwiches left ...”

She became quite eager. “Right away, mum.”

I smiled to myself as I went up the stairs to my bedroom. And as I approached the door, I heard voices.

“How will we know when it’s run through?” It was Tony’s manservant Jacob Michaels speaking. I suppose his duties were the equivalent of Amelia’s position.

“The weight on the other end will pull. Keep a grip on it, or it’ll fall through and we’ll have to start over.” Skip Honor, my footman.

I opened the door. “What’s all this?”

The bell-pull by my bed normally disappeared behind a small curtain high on the wall. This had been removed; a hole the size of my fist showed there. Beside it, another hole had been cut into the wall.

The two men had their shoes off. Michaels was standing upon my bed gripping a yellow bell-pull whilst peering into the first hole. Honor fed what looked like a thin wire through the second hole. A mass of cord lay upon the bed.

They bowed. “Just running a bell from here to the nursery and back,” Honor said.

Tony had decided that Roy’s old room, at the very right-hand end of the U-shaped building, would be the best place for the nursery. The room was large, and had a spacious bath, with a side room for the child’s nanny.

Michaels was a slender, pale, rather short man, who looked very young. I later learned that in actuality he was several years older than Honor. Keeping tight hold of the bed-pull, he stepped off my bed. “Sorry to disturb you, mum. We thought you’d be in your study.”

I smiled warmly at them. “No need to fret — I’ll be out of your way.” Then the little creature inside me kicked; I made it to the toilet-room just in time.

Shawl, a pencil, and Anna’s notebook in hand, I returned to the veranda, where a new pot of tea and a mass of tuna sandwiches awaited me.

I put on my shawl and took up Anna’s notebook as I ate. Examine it as I might, I understood nothing. As the rain fell, I finished the symbol count, yet the list didn’t help in the slightest.

Our language had many more of the letter “e” than of others, but the number of each symbol in the notebook was almost the same.

I closed the notebook. This writing had to be based upon some other language — that was the only explanation.

But which?

I only knew of a few other languages than the one we spoke in Bridges: Italian, which Tony’s people spoke, and Mandarin, the language of the Harts.

And I couldn’t read either of them.

These symbols looked nothing like those I’d seen in Hart quadrant. But I now had a listing of each of the symbols and their number to keep with me, should I have cause to go to Hart quadrant. And I decided I would put this notebook somewhere safe.

If whatever was in the notebook gave someone motivation to kill Anna, then this was too dangerous to keep lying in plain view.

* * *

I returned to my bedroom to find Amelia cleaning. “Those men have left dust everywhere!”

The small curtain had been restored over the first hole and the bright yellow bell-pull joined the other one, which had been changed to bright blue. A small bell now hung upon the high wall. Amused, I went into my closets.

My three bedraggled charcoal gowns — now well-worn and let out as far as they might be — hung beside Anna’s purple dresses, my few corsets, a few threadbare petticoats, stained and mended bloomers, house dresses, and much-darned stockings.

Amelia appeared. “Did you need anything, mum?”

“No, just looking.” My new navy blue dress hung there as well. “Tenni will send two more of the navy once they’re finished.”

“Hmph,” Amelia said. She never liked Tenni — a former shop maid — becoming an owner. It put Tenni’s status well above hers! “And what will you wear for summer?”

I shrugged. “Summer’s a long way off.” We’d just barely had Queen’s Day. Suddenly, I felt annoyed at her. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Amelia went crimson and curtsied. “Yes, mum, of course, mum. Forgive me.” Then she rushed out, just as I’d hoped.

I went into the left side of my closets, to the back.

The paneled wall appeared as any other, but if I pressed on one panel just right, it moved inward far enough for me to slide it up. They’d found all my hiding places except this one.

There lay the note Black Maria sent Roy, showing that she knew about the affair Tony’s mother Molly had with Roy’s father. Roy wasn’t actually Tony’s father at all, but rather his half-brother.

And as far as I could tell, Tony didn’t know this.

I’d forgotten I had stashed the scrap from Marja’s dying hand there.

Marja had helped raise me. She’d also helped raise my friend Josephine Kerr. Yet I’d never told Josie about the paper.

Oh, well, I thought. The message which lay hidden in the scrap of paper — probably also from Black Maria — would only upset her.

I set Anna’s notebook atop the two papers and slid the panel back into place. When closed, no sign of what lay behind remained.

When I emerged from my closets, Amelia was remaking the bed. I said, “I’ll have Tenni make some summer house-dresses.” But it bothered me. I hated to have Tenni do all this work for nothing. And the cost!

Amelia didn’t meet my eye. “And you’ll need more under-things.”

“Write up a purchase order for the entirety and present it to my husband.” That would keep her busy.

She curtsied. “Yes, mum.”

I went down the stairs and to my study. After ... let’s just call it vigorous discussion, Tony bought me a new desk and chair to match the ones still at my apartments, rather than force me to bring mine here. Although my business remained there, it was nice to have somewhere here to sit with the door shut and be left alone.

Life as the Lady of Spadros might sound terribly elegant and splendid, but the reality was more busy and regimented than I liked. Time alone to work, to consider ... it often seemed in short supply.

The sound of agitated men speaking came from the front hall, then the sounds of someone leaving.

A heavy tread approached; a knock came at the door. It was Pearson. “Your mail, mum.” He placed a few letters and a copy of the Bridges Daily on my desk. “Mr. Blitz told me you enjoyed the evening edition, so I took the liberty of ordering a subscription for you.”

“What’s going on out in the hall?”

“One of our men was murdered.”