“That’s the answer you and I and Whitehall want,” Blackford said. “If we’re wrong, we have a bigger problem than anyone had dared mention before now. Thank you, Miss Fenchurch, for ruining my day.”

His dark eyes bored through me, making it hard to breathe. I reached out a white-gloved hand and grabbed his sleeve. “You think I’m right, don’t you? That Gattenger’s story is true.”

His answer meant more to me than I wanted to admit, even to myself. He continued to glare at me without speaking.

“How was Clara killed?” I needed details if I was going to help Ken Gattenger.

“A blow to the back of the head. Probably from striking that side table. She fell there, where the blood is on the hearth rug,” the inspector told me.

“Pushed in a struggle with a burglar over the plans?” I certainly hoped so. The other answer, pushed by Gattenger, would break Phyllida’s heart.

The duke finally gave one sharp nod. “We’ll have to investigate this until proven wrong.”

We. The duke had described himself and me as we. I prayed the investigation would take a very long time. The stuff of my dreams only happened in the light of day when I was conducting an Archivist Society investigation. Under no other circumstances would a duke spend time with a bookshop owner.

“Scotland Yard is proceeding from the assumption Kenneth Gattenger killed his wife. If you find proof of his innocence, we need to know.” The inspector glared as he looked from Blackford to me.

I nodded as I walked over to look out the open windows. Paving stones made paths through the small dry patch of grass. Anyone could have walked through the back garden without leaving tracks. “Did the Gattengers entertain last night?”

“No. They ate alone. The dining room is the front room on this floor. Immediately after, they came in here.”

I turned and faced into the room. It was small and cozy. I could picture the Gattengers sitting in their matching chairs, reading in front of the fire. I imagined this was a room no outsider was ever invited into. “Did they frequently lock the study door from the inside?”

The inspector shook his head. “The maids said they’d never known that to happen before.”

The duke asked, “Have you searched the house for the ship plans?”

“Of course. They’re not here, and the Admiralty records office swears Gattenger took a set with him yesterday just after midday.”

“Did he take a set home with him frequently?” If he did, my thoughts of treason in the Admiralty disintegrated like the ashes in the fireplace.

“No.” The inspector strode to the door and held it open as he tapped his foot, letting his impatience show. He had work to do. I understood. I did, too.

From where I stood, I could see a foot or more of space between the back of the door and a bookcase. Could someone have hidden there when the Gattengers came in? Beyond the inspector, I saw a young woman in a black maid’s dress with white cuffs and collar. Dressed in her good uniform, she was ready to answer the door if there were any afternoon callers. I couldn’t imagine anyone but the ghoulish calling here.

I brushed past the inspector and stopped in front of the woman. When I looked at her closely, I discovered she wasn’t a woman but a girl younger than Emma. “I’m Georgia Fenchurch, a relative of Mrs. Gattenger’s cousin.” Better not to get too specific with the kinship. “What’s your name?”

“Elsie, miss.”

“May I ask you some questions, Elsie?”

“Do you think Mr. Gattenger killed his wife?” she asked, twisting her apron.

“No.”

“Good.” She gave one jerky nod with her head. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about yesterday.”

“All day?”

“Yes.” Behind me, I heard two male sighs.

“The day was the same as any other. I brought up the breakfast tray. Then Mary helped Mrs. Gattenger dress. Mr. Gattenger did for himself, being brought up that way.”

“Did Mr. Gattenger leave after breakfast and stay away for the whole day?”

She nodded. “Just as usual.”

“And Mrs. Gattenger?”

“She went out calling in the afternoon with Lady Bennett, then came home and dressed for dinner.”

“Did she always dress for dinner, even when it was just the two of them?”

“Yes. She was raised that way, her being the daughter of a lord.”

“Was she good friends with Lady Bennett? Did they make calls together often?”

“No. The lady had never called here before. The missus looked surprised to see her, but she went off in the carriage with Lady Bennett after they spoke in the front hall for a few moments.”

What had made Lady Bennett call on Clara that particular afternoon? “Did you hear what they said?”

“No. The missus looked furious at first, but then she put on a false smile when she spoke to me.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Lady Bennett and I are going out. I don’t expect this to take long.’”

Where had they gone? It didn’t sound like Clara had wanted to go. “Did she return before the master came home?”

“Yes, she was only gone an hour or two.”

“How did she look?”

“Ready to do murder.”

I glanced up to catch the eye of Blackford, who now stood behind the maid. He gave one slight nod, his face a ducal mask. “Elsie, where did the Gattengers first meet at the end of the day?”

“In the study. He’d wait in there until the mistress came down dressed for dinner. Last night, she was in there waiting for him. He went in and shut the door. I was busy in the dining room and didn’t hear anything.”

“Would you have heard if there was shouting?”

“Yes, and there wasn’t. There never was, well, not until after dinner last night.”

“What happened next?” What had changed their routine so dramatically?

“We served dinner.”

“No shouting?”

“They hardly said a word to each other.”

“Was that usual?”

“No. They usually talked about their day, people they saw, things they read. Last night, they were both upset and quiet.”

“You’re sure about that?” Inspector Grantham said from behind me.

The maid nodded.

“How were their appetites?” I asked.

“Neither one ate hardly a bite. Cook was furious, but Mary and I looked at the leftovers and danced around the kitchen. We get the leftovers. Well, some of them.”

“They don’t feed you very well?” Elsie was thin and pale. I wondered how she’d look if she were fed like a lady.

The girl shrugged. “Better’n some.”

“But they sat through all the courses?”

“There were only four when they were alone. Soup, fish, roast, and pudding. Master would have done without the soup and the fish, said they didn’t eat enough to make it worthwhile, but the mistress insisted on it. Sometimes they had fowl, too, but not last night. The mistress didn’t touch her pudding, and the master only had one spoonful. Then she said, ‘Let’s get this over with,’ and he put his spoon down and they went into the study.”

“And locked the door.” I was getting a picture of what had been an unusual night, even if no one had died.

“Yes, that was strange. They never locked the door. I couldn’t bring the coffee in, for one thing.”

“They always had their coffee in the study after dinner?”

She nodded. “Always.”

“With them not talking, and not eating, how long was dinner?”

The maid grinned. “Fastest ever. Mary and I were kept running.”

“How long was it after they locked the door before you heard shouting?”

“The shouting must’ve come first. I never heard the key in the lock for them yelling.”

That was different from what Inspector Grantham had told us. “Then how did you know the door was locked?”

“I brought up the coffee, like I was supposed to, and when I tried the handle, I couldn’t get in.”

“What did you do with the coffee?”

“Put it in the dining room. I thought they’d stop after a minute and let me in. They’d never behaved like this before.”