CORNERING A KILLER

Chapter 9 On the Eve of Confrontation

Lady Mary's Offers to Help

"Carson."

Lady Mary approached him as the family rose from breakfast. He had begun to clear, but he paused, plates in hand, to attend to her.

She paused, too, waiting as His Lordship, Her Ladyship, and Lady Edith separated and departed. Mary smiled a sweet goodbye to her parents and then turned to Carson with a rather more prosaic demeanour.

"I've been wondering how your...investigation...is progressing, Carson. What news of Barrow's sojourn to Chesley Park? Did he learn anything useful there?"

Carson did not immediately respond. Instead he cast his eyes about the room. "This is a matter of some discretion, my lady," he intoned.

If his exaggerated caution exasperated her, she gave no hint of it. "Then let us find somewhere more discreet to discuss it." She rang the bell and a moment later Molesley appeared. "Could you please clear the breakfast things, Molesley? Carson and I have business we must address." The footman nodded obligingly and Mary led Carson to the small library, which was deserted at this hour of the day.

"I see Anna sinking lower every day, Carson," Mary said, her voice heavy with the truth of her words. "And the dreadful Inspector Viner called yesterday, for clarification on a few points."

"Surely he knows everything by now," Carson said indignantly. He had not yet heard about this development, although Anna had seemed even more downcast than usual at the servants' breakfast earlier.

Mary waved dismissively. "He thinks he knows far more than he does, and of course he had nothing new to add. He only wants to apply pressure and hope that Anna will incriminate herself in a fit of nervous collapse. He is a despicable man." She wasn't going to get any argument from Carson on that. "She is strong, but I doubt she can go on with this uncertainty indefinitely, which brings me back to you and Mrs. Carson and your...project. What, if anything, did Barrow learn?"

Carson hesitated again, but now more on grounds of propriety than fear of discovery. "Mr. Barrow unearthed some useful information, my lady, but I fear that it is all still speculation on our part. I would not want to cast aspersions on the reputation of any man or woman...," even Edna Braithwaite, "...without concrete evidence."

His caution taxed Lady Mary's patience. She gestured around them. "There's no one else to hear your slander, Carson. And I can keep a secret. So give forth! I insist. I went along blindly with your plan about Chesley Park and even inveigled Lord Gillingham to arrange it, at some cost to his marriage apparently. But now I think I'm entitled to the whole story."

It was a legitimate argument and he knew that he could trust her to go no further with the tale he had to tell, so he told it to her, although not adhering strictly to her directive for the whole story. He related Elsie's examination of the evidence and her identification of Edna Braithwaite as a potential culprit, the connection they had discerned between Braithwaite and Green, and Barrow's revelations of additional information that suggested a motive for Green's murder. He did not dwell extensively on the role Edna had played in Lord Bracken's death, although it was necessary to allude to it, and he did not mention her machinations at Downton Abbey or Tom Branson at all. Although Carson continued to disapprove of that young man, he did not think it his place to disabuse Lady Mary of her warm regard for her brother-in-law.

She listened closely while he spoke, not taking her eyes from his or interrupting the flow of his narrative. Only when he fell silent did her gaze shift. And then she walked the length of the room, stared out the window for a moment, and returned to his side.

"Edna Braithwaite," she murmured. "Do you know I can't even picture her, though I remember the name."

"And why would you, my lady. She was here so briefly. Both times."

Mary shrugged. She liked to think she was a better employer than that.

"It is all speculation, my lady," he reminded her.

Now she did make an exasperated sound. "I understand that, Carson. I will make no unfounded accusations, or any other kind for that matter. But...the story you have told me holds together very well. I grieve for Lord Bracken."

"Did you know him?"

She shrugged. "As I know so many people, Carson. We were acquainted. But what about Miss Braithwaite now? You believe her to have had means, motive, and opportunity to kill Green...," Lady Mary had read a few detective novels, too, "...and I agree that you have made a compelling case. And yet you think there is nothing concrete to take to the police."

"That is the rub of it, my lady, only...," he felt impelled to give credit where credit was due, "it was Mrs. Carson who took the initiative, made something of the paltry evidence, and put the pieces together. And," he added more reluctantly, "Mr. Barrow proved himself a skilled investigator."

"I'll say," Mary said with feeling. "Mrs. Carson could be working for Scotland Yard. And Barrow. Well, I've always thought him capable of it, but it's just a little unnerving to see him in action and so very effective, too. We must watch our step, with both of them. I don't mind residing on the outer circle of things, Carson, but you must promise me that when it all comes out and Inspector Viner is forced to eat every one of his execrable words, you will ensure me a place at the table to watch."

He smiled indulgently, if briefly. "I promise. But we are a-ways from that yet, my lady. It is my view that trying to establish Miss Braithwaite's guilt in past crimes, at least where the death of Mr. Green is concerned, may be next to impossible. And if we tip our hand to the police, they may put the wind up her with a result."

"You mean that Inspector Viner will botch it," Mary declared, nodding, and sounding much like her acerbic grandmother. "I agree. So what do you think ought to be done?"

He was gratified that she thought he might have some part to play here, too. "That we catch her in the act of a new crime, my lady."

"Ah!" She understood immediately. "Set a trap for her." Her eyes glittered at the prospect. "That may be dangerous," she said.

"Indeed. Mrs. Carson is quite distressed on that point," he said.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"For Mr. Barrow, my lady. He seems the most appropriate...front man, if I may be so vulgar,...for our operations. And he is eager. But Mrs. Carson is afraid for him." He watched her carefully as she considered this. Would she exhibit a womanly sensibility where Barrow was concerned, or come down on his side?

"It's murder, Carson," she said grimly. "Can it be anything but dangerous? And Anna's life is involved. If Barrow is willing, I say go to it."

He bowed his head in agreement.

"Does Mrs. Carson have a plan yet?"

It pleased him that Lady Mary should yield to his wife's strategic oversight. "Yes. Mr. Barrow is to go to the estate at Cross Harbour, in Durham, where Miss Braithwaite is now employed, and put it to her that he knows her story and will make life difficult for her unless she compensates him accordingly."

"Well! Blackmail! Lady Mary's eyes went round with appreciation. "A sound approach. Then what?"

Carson shrugged. This is where they had gotten bogged down with conflict in their planning. "Then we wait, my lady, to see if she pays up or..."

"Or tries to kill Barrow," she finished unequivocally. "And then Mrs. Carson and her team of investigators will move in to catch her in the act, preferably before she does the deed."

"It is a blunt instrument, blackmail," Carson conceded.

But Mary would have none of it. "It's an effective ploy, Carson, and I agree with it. So Barrow must get to Cross Harbour that he might bait the trap. What if I were to take him there?"

This possibility caught him off guard. "My lady?"

"I must go to Newcastle this week to an exhibition on farm machinery. Really, Carson, sometimes I wonder who I am."

"You are the conscientious mother of the future Eighth Earl of Grantham, my lady. And you are making the most of the opportunities available to safeguard his inheritance." Carson spoke his piece as if he had been practicing it, which was a distinct possibility.

She smiled. "Well, that's a very charming way of putting it. Thank you. But it means I'll be driving through Durham and I could easily put in at Cross Harbour for tea."

"You know the family, then?"

"We're acquainted. In the same way that I was acquainted with Lord Bracken. But it might be useful to renew that connection in light of these developments. There may be reason to contact them again."

"But how will you manage it, my lady?"

That appeared to be the least of problems from Lady Mary's perspective. "I'll just ring them up, tell them I'm in the neighbourhood, and invite myself to tea."

Carson had been enjoying this conversation from the perspective of a co-conspirator unveiling the next level of the plan, but Lady Mary's blithe disregard for social convention prompted a reassertion of his butler's sensibilities. "That's very ill bred, my lady, if I may say so." Clearly he was determined she should know it no matter whether she gave him leave to say it or not.

She was amused by his addiction to the niceties. "This is murder we're talking about Carson," she reminded him. "There are no manners when it comes to murder."

That, Carson mused, sounded like something Hercules Poirot had said. And it was not a sentiment with which he agreed.

"And it's not like it hasn't been done, Carson. Remember Lady Anstruther's descent upon us the evening of His Lordship's and Her Ladyship's anniversary dinner?"

"That is the very point I was trying to make, my lady," he intoned disapprovingly.

"Well, it's for a better cause in this instance," Mary said hurriedly, realizing that Carson could pontificate on this subject all day. "Run the idea by Mrs. Carson and see what she thinks of it."

This derailed him. "Really, my lady?"

"Yes, really, Carson. She's the brains behind this enterprise. I don't want to cross her or disrupt any of her carefully laid plans. I must say," she added, as a bit of an aside, "that's some plotter you've married."

"She is indeed," Carson said agreed, and he was proud of that fact.

Mrs. Carson Has Her Say

"I hope you don't mind," he said, speaking to Elsie later that morning and explaining to her his conversation with Lady Mary. They were standing together in his pantry, both doors firmly closed. Ever since he'd learned of the vent in her sitting room that made eavesdropping possible, he hadn't want to have any confidential conversations there.

"No, I don't mind," she said lightly, and then added, "Lady Mary is being very helpful."

"Don't be like that."

"I'm not being like anything. I meant it. She is interested in Anna, I'll give her that. And she's right about the state of her, too. We must get on with things if we're to do Anna any good at all."

"So Lady's Mary's offer?"

Elsie stared at him for a moment. She wondered if it were ungenerous of her to believe his enthusiasm for action at this point had something to do with Lady Mary's involvement. She shook off the thought. He'd been a slow convert to this investigation business, but once he'd taken it up, he'd proven as keen as she was. And Lady Mary was providing them with a way forward. "Well, it's the easiest way to get Mr. Barrow there. And the fastest. So, yes, I think we can take her up on it."

He smiled in satisfaction. She rolled her eyes.

"I saw that, you know," he said, a little indignantly. She hadn't even tried to hide it. "Lady Mary said your work in this matter was exemplary and that she would support your appointment to a position at Scotland Yard." It was a slight embellishment of Lady Mary's words, but he wanted her to know that she had gained Lady Mary's approbation, something he considered worth having.

She laughed. "Well, that's a novel way for her to get rid of me."

He groaned.

"Flattery from you means something to me, Charlie. Flattery from Lady Mary has no effect at all." And he ought to know that by now. She thought he might leap to his favourite's defense, but instead he moved more closely to her.

"I should hope that my effort to charm you would make a greater impression that anyone else's," he said, his eyes suddenly open windows to his great love for her. He leaned down to kiss her.

She smiled beneath the touch of his lips. "You're getting very bold, Mr. Carson," she said tartly, but her own eyes sparkled back at him.

It was a compliment he appreciated very much.

"I'm still worried about Mr. Barrow in all this," she said, when he had stepped back once more.

"I'm not."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

Carson's Unease

It had been some time since Carson had visited the male servants' quarters in the attics of the Abbey. Since his marriage, he had had no reason to go there. Mr. Barrow was the senior male staff member now and on the other side of the always-locked door that separated the male servants from the female ones, the key to that door now hung in Miss Baxter's room. It rightfully belonged to the housekeeper, but it was impractical for it to remain in Mrs. Carson's possession. That key and the authorization to use it were matters for situations of illness or emergency, and only useful in the housekeeper's hands if she were on the spot. As she no longer was, this responsibility had fallen to the senior woman in residence, Her Ladyship's lady's maid.

Barrow had not moved into Carson's old room. There was no point, really. It might have been marginally larger than Barrow's, but there was no cachet to sleeping in a specific room. Not anymore. Who was there left to impress with authority? Molesley? Andy? The hall boy? What an anachronism that last was becoming. And they were very difficult to find these days, too. Carson shook his head.

He felt a twinge as he looked in his old room, the door of which stood ajar. He wouldn't have that life - a loveless life of solitude - back again, not if he were handsomely paid in the bargain. But memories were irrational things that called forth emotions, and the room, bare as it was, still had a hold on him.

He knocked on Barrow's door and, at a word from within, pushed it open to find the underbutler just preparing his clothes for the following day. Barrow was surprised to see him. Mr. Carson had never been in his room. And they had, earlier that evening, already thoroughly discussed the parameters of his proposed conversation with Edna.

Carson was aware of the novelty of his visit and uncomfortable with it. "You're ready then." He did not look at Barrow as he said this and it wasn't really a question.

Barrow did not respond, instead watching Mr. Carson's eyes traverse his room as though he were looking for something of which he might disapprove.

"No secrets this time," Carson went on. "And no surprises." He had not been pleased with Barrow's and another thing report of his visit to Chesley Park or his lack of complete disclosure before that.

"On either side," Barrow said smoothly. He was a player now, but he had not forgotten the fight for his place.

Carson chose to ignore this. "Stick to the plan, Mr. Barrow."

"As we discussed." Barrow wondered what it was the man really wanted to say.

"Mrs. Carson is concerned," Carson said at last. "She's worried Miss Braithwaite might actually kill you."

Barrow shrugged. "Women," he said softly. "You're not worried, are you, Mr. Carson? You think I've got nine lives."

Carson refused to be drawn by Barrow's provocation. "Nine times nine," he said roughly, thinking of the number of times he'd thought himself rid of Barrow only to find the man at his side once more, with that annoying smirk pasted across his face.

"I can take care of myself, Mr. Carson."

"See that you do."

And with that, Carson left. The stilted conversation had done nothing to dispel the sense of unease that had come over him earlier when they'd gone over the approach Barrow was to take with Edna Braithwaite. It had started off as an intellectual exercise, this investigation of the vile valet's death, a brain-teaser not unlike reading a mystery novel. But as they were saying to each other with increasing frequency, this was murder after all. Tomorrow Barrow would confront, for the first time since they'd begun to consider it, the person they thought had murdered one man and as good as led another to his death. And now they were trying to entice her to further violence as a means to trap her. It had all suddenly become so very serious. Carson wondered if any of them were really up to it.