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“You’re ill, Powell?” Sally put her hands to her mouth, her eyes flooding with tears.
“No, I’m not ill. Wipe your tears, Sally, for heaven’s sake. While I’m touched by your concern, this isn’t about me.” The butler took a breath. “I think it’s time we have a discreet, honest discussion about the children.”
“Is that why you waited until Hannah wasn’t about?” Billet commented around a well-buttered slice of bread. “Because you reckon she’d champion the little ones?”
“I didn’t know Hannah wouldn’t be present until she headed upstairs ten minutes ago,” Powell returned, though her absence had somewhat influenced his timing. Hannah might well feel obligated to discuss their private conversation with Mrs. Pershing, and he preferred that not happen.
“What about the children, then?” Mrs. Brubbins asked. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy lemon biscuits as much as little Rose does.”
“Yes, yes, they like biscuits,” Powell said, pushing against his impatience. There were moments when he found the little ones amusing and charming himself, but that didn’t erase the rest of the nonsense that surrounded them. “First, discretion. None of this must get back to the Pershings.”
“I am not a gossip, Powell,” Mrs. Brubbins declared. “None of us are, or the Pershings wouldn’t have us here.”
Murmured agreements followed that, and he nodded. “Even so.” Measuring what he wanted to say, he met the gaze of each member of the staff, daring them to interrupt again. “Have any of you, especially Sally and Lizzy, noticed anything missing from the house? Baubles from shelves, things like that?”
Lizzy and Sally exchanged a glance. “There’ve been a few things,” Sally said slowly. “But the missus is forever shifting decorations, depending on who’s visiting the house. You know that.”
Davis cleared his throat. “Cuff links,” the valet said. “Two pair. I thought I’d left one behind at Pershing House, but now another pair’s gone missing. And a hat, the blue beaver. And a shoe. And as of this morning, a scrimshaw box that was dear to Mr. Pershing.”
“Why would the children take one shoe?” Mrs. Brubbins demanded.
Kate Brubbins had a very soft heart, and Powell wasn’t surprised to hear her defending the youngsters, but facts were facts. “Facts are facts,” he said aloud, liking the logic of that thought. “We may not know the reason for something, but we do know something has happened.”
“But you don’t know for certain who did it,” Edward pointed out unhelpfully. “Their brother is here, the ne’er-do-well.”
This was the tricky part; he knew George, at least, had taken items from the house and put them in his trunk. He’d seen them. But as they’d all been forbidden to look in the damned things, he couldn’t admit that he’d done so. He also suspected the older Fletcher, but he couldn’t prove anything. “We’ve all been employed here for years,” the butler said aloud. “Edward, you’re the last one to be hired, and it’s been over four years for you. Nothing—nothing—has ever gone missing before, with the exception of that hand mirror we all know Lady Graham’s mother slipped into her reticule.”
“Daft old lady,” Edward muttered.
“Yes. But if none of us removed an item from its place, and it is no longer there, we have a very limited number of suspects. Three, actually.”
“You’d best be certain before you go accusing them,” Billet added, still being obvious and unhelpful. “I don’t know about the older one, but the Pershings need those babes for the next few weeks.”
“I’m aware, Billet. I’m also aware that in six or seven weeks the Pershings may want all of their pieces of silverware for some occasion or other, and when we can’t produce them, I will be the one on whose shoulders the blame will fall.”
“You’re missing silverware,” the groom pursued. “What else have you noticed, then?”
“Several things. Mainly baubles, as I said, but lately a few items that are rather valuable. If anyone else had noticed additional things gone missing, tell me.”
One by one, with clear reluctance, the Winnover Hall staff began to raise their hands. Sally noted that an ebony-wood bird and a pair of candlesticks had gone missing. Donald thought he had mislaid a silver salver. Lizzy thought perhaps a blue john bowl in the library had been moved into the master’s private quarters, though she couldn’t guess why. Edward couldn’t find part of a tea set. “I thought perhaps one of the children broke the cup and didn’t want to admit to it,” the footman said. “That’s to say, I don’t know for certain it’s been taken. Yesterday I couldn’t locate the pot either, though. That doesn’t count the set that Fletcher sent to the floor and shattered.”
Powell sat and listened. Most of the things he knew about, but not all of them. This was utterly dismaying and unacceptable. “Well. That’s that, then.”
“That’s what, Powell?” Billet asked. “If you accuse the children, it’ll be you versus them for the next four weeks. If you tell the Pershings, you’ll have them both fretting, and you’ll still set the young ones against you.”
“Yes, yes. You’re grand at pointing out difficulties, Billet,” Powell finally snapped. “I would much prefer if you had a solution.”
“Take the things back,” the groom said, finishing off his tea and standing.
“We are forbidden to open the children’s chests, so how, pray tell, do you suggest we recover the items?”
“What you and the little ones have, I believe, is a mutual reason to keep things quiet. You can’t tell anyone you’ve gone into their things or you’d have to admit to breaking your word to the Pershings. The children can’t complain if you break into their treasure chests because then they’d have to admit that they stole things from the house. It would seem to be a similar situation with Fletcher. Seems fairly straightforward to me. Now, unless you’ve another problem for me to solve, I have some horses to exercise.”
Powell watched the groom go out the kitchen door. By God, it was that damned straightforward. He wouldn’t be carrying tales about the children, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about the return of their purloined items to their rightful places in the house.
“I believe we have a plan, then,” he said, sitting back in his chair to sip his tea.
“But what about the chests?” Sally asked faintly, a frown drawing her generous brows together.