“No, your ladyship. My landlady just tossed my things out the door last week, and I’ve been sleeping at my sister’s house. But there’s about fifteen of us there.”
Amy looked over at Aunt Margaret. Despite Mr. Albright’s running off, Amy didn’t want to get involved in hiring a new man, since their efforts so far hadn’t turned up anyone acceptable.
Of course, neither she nor Aunt Margaret had spent a great deal of time actually searching for a new gardener.
“If you will excuse us for a moment, Mr. Albright, Lady Amy and I will return shortly.” Aunt Margaret stood and beckoned to Amy, who followed her out of the room.
“Are you considering the same thing I am?” Amy whispered, since they stood right outside the drawing room door.
“Yes. Mr. Albright has always been a good gardener. We haven’t been successful thus far in replacing him.” Aunt Margaret grinned. “Not that we’ve been looking.”
“And the garden is beginning to look frightful,” Amy added.
“Then I think we agree. We shall extend an offer to Mr. Albright to continue with his work here. However, I think it best if we don’t inform your father. He worries about these ridiculous things.”
Amy smiled. She had no doubt things would come crashing down on their heads if Papa knew Mr. Albright was back at work. She had so liked the man before all this trouble started. He’d successfully grown several of her favorite flowers and brought her some of them in a bundle at least once a week.
“What about the opium? Do you think he is addicted? I understand those who are can become quite unpleasant when denied the drug.”
When Aunt Margaret raised her brows at Amy’s words, she added, “I know this because I’ve done research for my books.” Amy crossed her arms over her middle, studying the spot on the table near the door that Lacey had missed when she dusted that morning. “I hate to send the man back to a room with fifteen people.”
Aunt Margaret nodded. “There is only one way to discover if he is addicted.” With a swish of her skirts, she returned to the drawing room.
“Mr. Albright.” Aunt Margaret took her seat once again across from him.
William and Mr. Albright had been conversing when the ladies entered the room and appeared to be quite relaxed. Aunt Margaret’s authoritative tone had the gardener sitting up straight.
“Yes, milady?” He looked hopeful, but a bit of distrust had entered his eyes. The poor man had been through a great deal, what with being falsely imprisoned for a murder he hadn’t committed, and had probably learned over the years to treat every potential act of kindness with suspicion.
“Are you addicted to opium?” Her words cracked in the room like a bolt of lightning.
Mr. Albright sat up even straighter and looked Aunt Margaret in the eye. “No, milady. I seen what it can do to those who are, so I’ve never reached for my pipe too often.”
She studied him for a minute as if to discern if he was being truthful. After a few moments, during which it seemed everyone in the room held their breath, Aunt Margaret said, “If we allow you to return to your job, will you give me your word that you will not indulge in the drug? Never?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, milady. I would be very grateful to have m’job back. And I promise I will never touch the stuff again.”
Aunt Margaret nodded. “Very well. I believe you are a man of honor, and now that you have given me your word, I trust you will be the best worker any employer ever retained.”
Mr. Albright’s face turned a bright red. “Milady, no one has ever before in my life referred to me as a man of honor. You can be sure I will indeed be the best gardener you ever had.” He let out a huge breath and smiled at the three of them.
“Milady, a missive was just delivered by a young boy.” Lacey entered the drawing room and handed Amy a folded piece of paper. “He is waiting for your answer.”
Amy looked over at William, then opened the note.
Dear Lady Amy,
I ask permission to call upon you tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. Upon recommendation from Lord Carlisle, your father has retained me to assist in the matter of the death of your fiancé, Mr. Ronald St. Vincent. If you could arrange for Lord Wethington to also be in attendance it would be greatly appreciated.
Sir Roger Holstein
“Ex-fiancé,” she muttered.
CHAPTER 14
The next afternoon Amy sat in the drawing room running her palms over Persephone’s soft fur. The dog let out soft-pitched moans at Amy’s ministrations while she gazed out the window, waiting for Sir Holstein and William to arrive. The interview with the private investigator Papa had retained might be a bit strained.
If he was as good as he should be to solve a murder, he would be able to trip her and William up and get information from them they might not want to share. Now that she and William had a few suspects and had done a great deal of work on the investigation, she wanted to see it through to the end herself. The murder-mystery writer in her did not want to share the information they’d gathered.