A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem (A Lady's Guide #1)(5)

“Thank you,” Caro said in an undertone. “I didn’t realize how fastidious he’d become since he was elevated to footman. I used to be able to rely upon him not to take Mama’s threats too seriously when he was just a groom.”

Kate felt a pang of pity for the young man. He very likely didn’t wish to lose his position. And who could blame him?

“Shall we go inside?” she asked Caro instead.

Together they neared the door of the bustling chophouse, where customers brushed against them as they exited the establishment and entering patrons crowded together as they made their way inside.

The smell of grilled meat and unwashed bodies met them as they stepped into the dim interior, lit with gas lamps on the walls. It was clear at once that speaking with the barmaids would be difficult since even at this hour the place was crowded.

But Kate had an idea.

Taking Caro by the arm, she led her toward the back of the room where a door opened into the alley behind the building.

“I was hoping to at least get a chop out of this visit,” Caro said as she followed Kate into the lane.

“We were never going to be able to speak to anyone in there.” Kate shrugged as she scanned the narrow area for signs of life. Just to their right, a young woman wearing similar clothing to that of the servers inside The White Hart stood leaning against the back wall. “Look,” she whispered to Caro.

Her eyes lighting up, Caro followed Kate as she walked toward the woman.

“Is it always this crowded before noon?” Kate asked as they approached.

The girl had obviously been working for some time if the dampness of her hair and the grease stains on the front of her skirt were anything to go by. The cap she wore over her copper-colored hair was slightly askew and her eyes looked as if they’d seen far more in her young life than she should have.

Those same eyes, a watery blue, looked on the two newcomers with suspicion. “Factory shift ends at ten, and today was payday.”

“That makes sense,” Kate said agreeably. “We’re from The Gazette. Would it be all right if we asked you a few questions?”

If anything, the girl’s eyes narrowed even further. “’Bout what?”

Kate decided to go ahead and ask without preamble. “Were you working the night Betsy Creamer was here?”

“Worked most nights when Betsy was here. She was a regular customer.”

“So, you knew her well, Miss—?” Kate left the question dangling in the hopes that the girl would give her name.

She was not disappointed.

“Lizzie Grainger.” She frowned. “No ‘Miss.’ I ain’t puttin’ on airs.”

“And I’m Kate and this is Caro.” Kate gestured to her friend, who had taken out her notebook and pencil from some hidden interior pocket of her gown. “Do you mind if we take notes?”

“Suit yourself.”

Thanking her, Kate continued her questioning. “So, Lizzie, you said that Betsy ate here frequently? Did you know her well?”

“Well enough. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, that’s for sure.” For the first time, Lizzie’s face showed real emotion. “She was a good girl. Who cares if she didn’t go to church? Not many around here that does.”

“Were you working the night before she was found?” Kate asked again. “It’s just that there was a story in one of the other papers that noted she’d said something about not having gone to church on Sunday in over a year?”

“Aye, I were here.” Lizzie scowled. “I even saw the fella she left with, though nobody from the police ever asked me about it.”

Kate and Caro exchanged a glance. There had been nothing in the papers about Betsy having been seen with a man the evening before her death.

“Can you describe him for me?” Kate asked.

“He was a looker,” Lizzie said thoughtfully. “His clothes were fancier than we see around here, too.”

She gave a speaking glance toward Kate and Caro’s gowns. “Like yours.”

So much for their attempts to blend in. Kate realized now how foolish they’d been to think anything from their own closets would work. The gowns were several years out of fashion, but there was no disguising they’d been crafted by London’s finest modistes.

“What about his hair?” Caro asked. “Light, dark?”

“It was a bit lighter than yours.” Lizzie nodded at Kate. “And he was about as tall as you, too.”

“Did he have a beard?” Kate asked. “Or side-whiskers?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No, his face was clean.”

Kate asked a few more questions, but it was clear that Lizzie had told them all she knew about the man’s appearance.

“So, you said Betsy left with him that evening,” she said. “Was there anything unusual about that? Did Betsy often leave with men?”

Lizzie scowled. “She weren’t no lightskirt. I told you she was a good girl. You’re like all the rest trying to make it sound like she was asking for it.”

Kate realized her error and did her best to make amends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply your friend was asking for what happened to her. I only wish to find out if this was the first time you’d seen her leave with this man.”