CORNERING A KILLER

Chapter 12 And It Begins

The Suspect Arrives

Late Friday afternoon the guests arrived in a whirl of splendour that in any other circumstances would have pleased Mr. Carson. He enjoyed the production of a house party, even one of a modest size. This one included only the Sinderbys and Lord and Lady Edgerton. The Edgerton son and heir was not with the party. From the perspective of the Downton conspirators, this was irrelevant. They were interested only in Lady Edgerton's maid.

The Carsons met incidentally in the downstairs passage as Barrow led a parade of maids and valets, encumbered with luggage, to the servants' staircase.

"They've come with a full complement," Carson noted, looking away deliberately so as not to set eyes on Edna Braithwaite just yet. He knew in the deep recesses of his heart that he was the weak link in the chain, the one most likely to tip their hand by expressing in look, if not word, his feelings. But he knew, too, that he could not - and would not - reveal his revulsion. Lives were in the balance.

Mrs. Carson, standing as she was facing the oncoming traffic, could not escape a glimpse of their quarry and issued a "Good day, Miss Braithwaite," with a calm disinterest that her husband much admired. There was a smug aspect to Edna's demeanor, or so it seemed to the housekeeper. She had been unceremoniously dismissed and, were it not for the business with Barrow, might be enjoying whatever discomfort her presence might cause.

"Thank God Mr. Branson is in America," Mr. Carson mused, which was possibly the first time he'd thought that a good thing, usually equating immigration to the United States with banishment to a penal colony.

Mrs. Carson was less perturbed by old grievances than by the prospect of harbouring a known killer beneath Downton's roof. She'd been in similar circumstances before with Edna Braithwaite's erstwhile victim, Mr. Green. She'd known of his assault on Anna and yet honoured her promise to Anna to remain silent. This had led to at least one very uncomfortable weekend when Lord Gillingham had descended on the house with his odious valet in tow and she, and Anna, too, had let on nothing. Mrs. Carson would do anything to protect Anna, but it gnawed at her conscience that she had let the valet move freely where there were any number of young women, upstairs and down, upon whom he might have preyed. Hindsight was always so damning.

Edna was, admittedly, a different case. She did not kill indiscriminately. Barrow was her target. But Mrs. Carson was not at ease exposing the rest of the staff to even a minimal risk. What if someone got in her way? What if she made a mistake? The possibilities were too terrible to contemplate. Risking Barrow's life was troubling enough and his eyes were wide open.

"At least we have room for them all," she said, referring to the guest staff, falling back on the mundane to keep her uneasiness at bay.

Edna Braithwaite had left Downton at odds with all the downstairs staff. Mrs. Carson - Mrs. Hughes as she had then been - had called her bluff in the matter of Mr. Branson and then fired her. Mr. Carson had little to do with the maids, but had had a hand in her first dismissal from Downton. She had never been anything but contemptuous of him, if only behind his back. She had actively intrigued against the Bateses, colluding with Barrow to do so, and then fallen out with him just before she left for the second time. It was thus not surprising that she had little to say to any of them, though she did make it a point, when they sat down to dinner together, to congratulate the Carsons on their marriage, which made for an awkward moment.

"How wonderful for you!" she gushed, with an insincerity that was apparent to the senior Downton staff and which drew a surprised look from Lord Edgerton's valet. Daisy, who did not always catch the subtle nuances of another's speech, stared at her open-mouthed, anticipating a rebuke from Mr. Carson, until Mrs. Patmore elbowed her back to reality.

Mr. Carson did respond with a disdainful stare. He did not encourage conversation about his marriage in the servants' hall.

Fearing that her husband might say something untoward, Mrs. Carson managed a polite "Thank you."

"And do you live out now, like Mr. and Mrs. Bates?"

This probing question drew baleful looks from both Mr. Carson and Mr. Bates. Bates had been indifferent to Edna Braithwaite until she had badmouthed and misrepresented Anna to Her Ladyship. That she conspired with Barrow to do so had only heightened his antagonism toward her. Mr. Carson tried to convey with a glare that this subject was not a fit one for conversation at the servants' table.

Mrs. Carson thought Edna impudent, but saw in the query an opportunity. Edna was not just making conversation. She was looking for information and it suited Mrs. Carson to give it to her. "We do," she said pleasantly, ignoring her husband's affronted look. "Upstairs Miss Baxter is now in charge of the women's side. And the keeper of the keys." She gave Her Ladyship's maid an acknowledging nod.

Miss Baxter, who still felt a little ill at ease with the responsibility this vested in her - especially given her past - started nervously at this statement, though she managed a weak smile in Edna's direction. "Please let me know if I can be of any service," she murmured.

Edna, Mrs. Carson noticed, cast her eyes down and smiled a knowing little smile to herself.

"What is the staffing situation at Canningford Grange?" Mr. Carson would not ordinarily have engaged a visiting valet on a matter that was clearly within a butler's jurisdiction, but he had his own agenda. "Any talk of cutting back?"

Barrow shot an uncomfortable look at the butler and caught Edna Braithwaite staring at him.

"Not at all, Mr. Carson," the valet replied heartily. "We've a full complement."

"Any movement in prospect?" Carson asked this delicately. He did not wish to give the impression that he was asking on his own behalf.

"His Lordship is a difficult man," the valet said candidly, his remark something that might have elicited a rebuke from Mr. Carson in different circumstances, "but he pays well..."

"Very well," Lady Sinderby's maid put in.

"...and no one wants to give up a good job in service these days. They're increasingly hard to come by, what with them all learning how to dress themselves!" The valet meant this as a joke and laughed. Few echoed him at this table.

"The world of domestic service is shrinking," Barrow said unexpectedly, with a dark look at Mr. Carson.

"It is indeed," Carson said, turning a grave expression on the underbutler. "It may become necessary for those made redundant to consider another line of work altogether."

The brittle tension between butler and underbutler was convincing if only because it was rooted in reality and had a history already at Downton. This undercurrent was with them later when they managed a moment together at the end of the evening when the valets and maids had gone up to see their gentlemen and ladies off to bed. Only then could they be certain that Edna would be otherwise occupied.

"It's very different with her bold as brass right in front of our eyes," Mrs. Carson said, finally able to express her own revulsion, as they closed themselves in the butler's pantry. "I'm quite uneasy with her upstairs and me not there to watch her. A cat among the pigeons."

"Steady on," her husband said encouragingly, his eyes shining as he gazed at her. "Your instincts have been right all along. Let's trust to them now." Perhaps he caught the look of distaste in the underbutler's face. In any case he cleared his throat and returned to the specific subject. "I'm uneasy that we have no control over events."

"It is the nature of the beast," Barrow said slowly, in a voice that seemed unnaturally calm. "We must wait for her to act."

"And hope that we're around to witness it," Mr. Carson said darkly.

"And thwart it," Mrs. Carson added. Then she sighed. "We must lie in the bed we've made." And then she gave her husband a thoughtful look. "Perhaps you ought to spend the night in Mr. Barrow's room, just in case."

"What?!"

"There's no need!"

The two men spoke together, and then glanced at each other in uncomfortable alliance. Neither of them could embrace this idea.

"She won't act the first night," Barrow went on hastily. "She'll want to get her bearings, examine the opportunities, collect information. This won't be a spontaneous act like Piccadilly or Durham."

"You can't be certain," Mrs. Carson protested. "We must take all precautions."

"I think Mr. Barrow is right," Mr. Carson said grimly, "and I'm not just saying that to avoid your...company," he added, with a nod to Barrow. "But Mrs. Carson has a point, as well. Edna may seize an opportunity as it presents itself. So mind how you walk on the stairs, Mr. Barrow."

"I won't sleep tonight," Mrs. Carson said as Barrow left the room.

"None of us will," her husband intoned.

Sleepless at Downton

"He'll be fine," Charlie said into the darkness after and hour and more of restlessness on Elsie's part.

"You don't know that." She spoke sharply and then her hand was searching out his. "I'm sorry, Charlie. For that and for keeping you awake. It does no good to fret."

His hand tightened over hers. It was not at all surprising that she should agonize over Mr. Barrow this night. He had long known that she worried about them all.

"Do you know," he said, by way of a distraction, "when we started this I was worried about implicating another young woman who had been hurt by ... the valet. As much as I wanted Anna to be free of it, it still seemed wrong for any woman ... in that situation ... to be held accountable for his death. For that reason I'm glad it's turned out to be Edna Braithwaite. We may proceed against her without any complications of conscience."

"Have we bitten off more than we can chew?"

He heard the wavering in her voice. They were, as she had noted earlier, into it now and there was no way back. What she needed was not a way out, but reassurance about going forward. He turned on the light and then raised himself on one elbow that he might give more authority to his words.

"None of that now, my love! You've done a masterful job in this case, Elsie. Better than any Belgian detective could have done and far better than Scotland Yard!" His tone in reference to that august institution was tinged with contempt. "And..." He paused. This was harder to admit. "And you chose well with Mr. Barrow. He is the right man for the task. No one else could have done it, let alone with such ... skill. I think he may overestimate his own cleverness bytimes, but he is a survivor. As I know only too well," he added grimly. "He'll have taken precautions."

She squeezed his hand in acknowledgment of both his warm words for her and his guarded praise for Mr. Barrow. "We'll just have to hope for the best," she said, falling back on the fundamental reality of their situation.

He leaned over her and they exchanged several gentle, comforting kisses. And then he reached for the light again.

Engulfed in darkness they lay quietly side by side for a long moment.

"We could pray," he said.

The Prey and Precautions

Thomas had assured the Carson with an intellectual confidence when he declared that Edna would take the lay of the land before acting. And he did believe she would be guided by caution under the roof of Downton Abbeyt, despite her apparent spontaneity on the pavement in Piccadilly and the platform at Durham. Here she was known.

But as he retired for the night, Thomas could not shake off a jumpiness that had him darting looks into dark corners. The incident in Durham kept assaulting his mind, resisting his efforts to put it away.

She almost killed me!

But she didn't.

It was those blokes who saved me though. Not me.

That was true enough. In Durham he had just been lucky. At Downton he needed to take care of himself. And that meant doing something tonight. He wasn't so desperate that he would take up Mrs. Carson's suggestion that her husband spend the night in the same room with him. There were limits to what Thomas would do for self-preservation.

But the threat existed. Edna might be able to gain access to the men's quarters by the door that separated the sexes. To do so she would have to steal the key from Miss Baxter's room. This was possible. Miss Baxter saw ill in few people and had not and could not be warned against Edna. For Edna this would add another layer of complication though. An easier option would be to come up the men's staircase. In the night she would not have to worry about meeting anyone.

But ... how would she ... do it? Stab him in his sleep? That left far too much to chance. He might wake and disarm her. And, as Mr. Carson had pointed out, there would be no doubt that murder had been done and the risk of being identified as the culprit would be too high. She had to do something much more subtle. Even poisoning, though more discreet, would be problematic in the same way. Could she really hope to catch him unawares on the stairs? Or ... a glum thought from the perspective of one hoping to trap her ... she might do nothing and play the long game, looking for an opportunity down the road. That could become quite wearing on his nerves.

Well. She might not try anything tonight, but he had to take precautions in any case and naturally he was not without ideas. From the pocket of his livery he pulled a roll of string he had brought up from the kitchen. It came from Mrs. Patmore's supply and no doubt she would miss it and raise hell over it, but that was the least of Thomas's concerns. Alone in his room now he tied one end to the door handle and, once he'd undressed and gotten into bed, the other end to the ring finger on his left hand. If the door opened in the night the slight tug on it would be enough to waken him and then she would not take him by surprise.

That was the theory anyway.