Carson stood with his hand poised above the white-painted linen fold door, reluctant to knock. Lord Grantham may already have retired for the evening. It would be so much easier to leave it to morning. No, it had to be done. He knocked.
"Lord Grantham, may I have a word?"
"Can't it wait?" His employer's voice sounded thick with sleep, and clearly annoyed.
"I'm terribly sorry to wake you, but it's regarding a police matter." Carson wished he were anywhere but here.
A minute or two later, the door opened and Lord Grantham stepped into the hall, tying the belt of his dressing gown around his waist. "What is it?"
"It's Anna. She's been badly beaten. Someone punched in the face hard enough to split her lip. He knocked her down, and she hit her head against the metal corner of the counter, cutting her forehead. Then he dragged her a considerable by the hair, and pulled out a large hunk."
Lord Grantham stiffened. "I know Bates has a violent temper and beat his first wife, but I never thought he would do such a thing to Anna."
"It wasn't Mr. Bates. It was Mr. Green, Lord Gillingham's valet. Mrs. Hughes says he was bothering her all day, and toward the evening, she thought he was getting menacing."
"But why on earth would he beat Anna? She's not one to make snide remarks or stir up trouble. Unless … oh my god."
"I'm afraid so. Mrs. Hughes sent for Dr. Clarkson, but Anna won't let him near her, she's backed into the corner of the housekeeper's office, sobbing, and shaking so hard she can't stand up."
"Mr. Green, Lord Gillingham's valet? Let's have a word with Lord Gillingham."
Lord Gillingham answered the door in his nightshirt.
"My man never would have done that. He might have stolen a kiss. Perhaps she took it the wrong way?"
"With your permission, I'd like a word with him. Carson, please wake the others, Lord Sampson and Mr. Branson, and Edith's publisher friend Mr. Gregson. Where's Mr. Green sleeping?"
"I believe we put him in the extra bed in Mr. Barrow's room." Mr. Carson led them to the corridor housing the male servants' rooms.
Lord Gillingham knocked on the door to Mr. Barrow's room. "Green! Come out here!"
There was a mumbled reply, and the sound of stocking feet crossing the room. The door opened, and Mr. Green filled the narrow gap. The room behind him was brightly lit. Thomas was sitting on his bed, still dressed. He looked up from his magazine, surprised.
"What's all this about?" There was a pleasant smile on his face, until he saw the five men standing behind Lord Gillingham. The door slammed, and the bolt shot home.
A scream inside the room tore the air. Mr. Gregson delivered a well-placed kick to the door next to the latch. Wood splintered, and the door flew open. The under butler, Thomas Barrow, held the struggling valet in a half nelson.
"Good work, Barrow. Now that we've caught him, what shall we do with him?" Lord Grantham considered for a moment. "Let's take him to the stables."
"I didn't do anything, it was that convicted murderer husband of hers. He saw her flirting with me." Green struggled to get free, but failed.
"No one's said anything about Anna, except you," said Lord Grantham.
They frog-marched their reluctant prisoner through the house, out the back, and into the stables.
"I didn't do it! It was that crazy husband of hers. He's insane with jealousy!" His bare feet sought traction against the gravel path, but Thomas shoved him forward.
They entered the darkened stables with their reluctant prisoner. One of the horses moved in its stall and bumped against the stall door, jingling the latch.
"What shall we do with him?" asked Thomas.
"Well, when you catch a man cheating at cards, you horsewhip him."
Lord Sampson looked distinctly uncomfortable and shifted from foot to foot.
Lord Grantham turned to his estate agent. "Tom, didn't you make a tour of the estate this morning? What was that farmer doing with the hogs?"
"He was gelding them."
"What sort of equipment does he use for that?"
"Well, there's a sort of pillory that goes around the head to keep the animal still. Then there's a cuff that goes around the parts you plan to take off. You tighten it with a wing nut, and then you use a curved blade to …"
Green let out a long, high wail, wavering and inhuman, and a dark stain appeared on the front of his trousers, spreading down his thigh.
"Please don't." He started to hiccup from sobbing. He seemed unaware of the puddle around his feet.
"I can't stand a coward. Just horsewhip him and be done with it." said Lord Grantham. Thomas went to the tack room and returned with a long, slender riding crop.
"We can do better than that." Branson went to the carriage house and found an old-fashioned horsewhip, a relic from the days of travel by carriage. It was braided leather, at least eight feet long. "Mr. Gregson, will you help Thomas pin him against the post?"
They forced the terrified Mr. Green to the central post that held up the roof, a great tree trunk almost two feet in diameter. Thomas and Mr. Gregson each took a wrist and pulled until Green's cheek was pressed against the splintery wood. His eyes were wide, and he made inarticulate whimpering sounds.
"Green, did I mention that you're dismissed?" said Lord Gillingham.