“Do you normally close the shop during the daytime?” he snapped.
“No, but with all the commotion this week I’m behind on my work. I closed the shop so we could concentrate on Lady Balthrome’s trousseau.”
The sound of feminine voices carried through from the parlour. “Has Mrs Chambers returned?” He craned his neck and stared down the corridor.
“No, not yet. But George … Mr Bostock said they’re calling at the circulating library and knowing Daphne she’ll take hours to choose a book.”
“Is there someone here with you?” Suspicion formed the basis of all his thoughts now. Of course, there was every chance the message on the paper was a warning for Lily and not a means of naming her as the traitor. “I assumed you worked alone.”
“Alone?” Betsy gasped. “Heavens, no. I have a contact in Spitalfields who hires girls by the hour. But I only use the service when I have to.”
“I see.” Daphne had said nothing about having strangers on the premises. Along with means and motive, opportunity was a key factor necessary for a person to commit a crime. “And you’re happy to vouch for the women you have working with you today?” He would take a list of their names later once he’d spoken to Daphne.
Betsy appeared a little confused. “I’ve worked with them all numerous times if that’s what you’re asking.”
He wasn’t sure what he was asking. “Then I’ll trouble you no further. I’m sure Mrs Chambers won’t mind if I wait for her upstairs.”
“I’m sure Mrs Chambers won’t mind you anything.” Betsy gave a coy grin.
There was nothing he could say to that, and so he inclined his head and walked away. He supposed he could make an amusing comment about Bostock, but he had more important things on his mind.
The high-pitched voices drew his attention back to the parlour. This time they were loud enough for him to make out the odd string of words. The women were discussing which one of them would make tea, and it brought to mind his earlier thought that a seamstress had the freedom of the house.
“Just a question if I may, Betsy,” he said, turning back to the modiste. “Do you choose the girls you hire or are they sent to you?”
“Mr Buchanan decides who to send. If I find their skills are poor, I can request he not send them again. But I’ve only done that once before.”
“And are the girls you employ free to roam the house?”
Betsy frowned. “Oh, there’s usually too much to occupy them down here. We tend to work together in one room. Except when one of us nips to the kitchen to make tea.” Betsy pursed her lips. “Why, is something wrong?”
To search Daphne’s room thoroughly, the intruder would need more than the ten minutes it took to boil water.
“I’m simply trying to establish if one of your seamstresses could have entered Mrs Chambers’ room unnoticed.”
Betsy shook her head and scrunched her nose. “But why would they want to do that?”
“Just humour me.” Daniel sighed. “So you’re saying no one would have had time to explore the upper floor?”
“Well, no. When you pay by the hour, you tend to keep a close eye on what they’re doing. The only time I’ve ever let a girl into my private room was when one pricked her finger on a needle and fainted.”
He imagined such a mishap was a regular occurrence. “And this was when?”
Betsy shrugged. “A few weeks ago.”
“And did you leave her alone?”
“Yes, she slept for almost an hour. The rest of us had to work our fingers to the bone to make up for lost time.”
Daniel dragged his hand down his face. “Let me guess. Was this girl petite, with golden hair and an angelic face?”
“Why, yes.” A smile touched Betsy’s lips, and she nodded. “The other girls thought we were twins.”
Bloody hell!
In all his years as an enquiry agent, he’d never been duped to this degree. Lily had batted her eyelashes and offered a pretty pout all in the hope of throwing them off the scent. Daniel had to give the woman some credit. Even he’d been convinced by her protestations.
The sudden thud on the front door startled them both.