Chapter 3

He grunted fiercely after my question, unwilling to elaborate on the subject matter. “I have three male servants here,” he grumbled. “A gardener, a butler and a cook. The rest of my household servants are women.” He stared straight ahead of him, taking in the emptiness of the hallway. “A talented musician comes ‘round three times a week to teach my eldest son, Nicholas, the violin.”

“I have heard your daughter is very beautiful.”

“Very.”

“And you don’t think that any of your male servants might have taken an interest in her?”

“If they did, they would be marching down to Scotland Yard to be hung the very next day,” he flatly replied. “Besides, they are much too old for her.”

“How much older?”

“Twenty years or more.”

“That is a normal age gap for a married couple,” I casually reminded him. “These sorts of things happen every day.”

“She’s engaged to Stephen,” he stiffly replied. “He is the same age as her.”

“Does she want to marry Stephen?”

“She has no choice.”

“Come, come, Lord Reeds! This is the nineteenth century! The age of industry; we have a Queen to rule Great Britain, and parliament that has become even more liberal than normal. Surely, the girl has some choice in marriage.”

“I am her father, and I know what is best for her.”

“And did you tell her that the night she disappeared?” I asked, wanting to prove a point.

“No, I didn’t see her at all that night. We were at a ball, and I was busy talking to the rest of the guests.”

“So, you never saw your daughter.”

“Once or twice,” he mumbled indifferently. “She was surrounded by her friends.”

“I see.” I stroked my hand across my bald head, deep in thought as my mind ran towards different avenues. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Downstairs, in my office. I wished her a goodnight as she passed by my room.”

“To go to bed?”

“Yes, to bed,” he gruffly replied, as though I had asked him a stupid question. “She is nineteen, after all.”

“Nineteen,” I repeated, while my eyes stared down at the spotted brown carpet. A lot can go on in the mind of a nineteen-year-old, I deliberated, especially after a party. “Is your wife home? Perhaps, she spoke to your daughter last?”

“Yes, but she is currently indisposed. She is ill.”

“Sick?”

“My wife is not taking this well,” he answered me while he rubbed the flat part of his palms together. “I ordered the doctor to give her something to sleep. She suffers from insomnia, and our daughter’s disappearance has made it worse.”

“Another time, then.” I raised myself off the couch, finding it too comfy for my liking. If I stay here any longer, I might fall asleep on it. “I’d like to speak to your children, if I may?”

“Carian is home,” he replied. “Lenna is at my neighbour’s house at the moment, and Nicholas is about to begin his music lessons.”

“I will speak to Carian then,” I told him. “She is the youngest daughter, I believe.”

“Second youngest,” he sighed out grievously. Lord Reeds steadily raised himself off the couch with obvious discomfort. He looks in pain, I realized, it looked as though his back was tremendously stiff. Been sleeping on the sofa, I wondered, and darted my eyes to the red couch next to me to find it had hardly been used. A mystery for another time, I told myself, before I followed this tall man out of the room.

“Lord Reeds,” I drawled as I walked alongside him. “When did you first notice your daughter’s disappearance?”

“One of the maids told me. Rose, my daughter’s handmaid. She noticed it in the morning when she went upstairs to help Victoria take a bath and get dressed for the day.”

“And she told you right away?”

“She told my wife, and she in turn brought this horrible news to my attention. It was only then that the whole family and a handful of servants went out looking for her.”

“How old is Rose?”

“Twenty-two, I believe. It was her birthday last week.”

“They are very close in age, are they not?” I asked him, after we stopped in front of the staircase. “Would you say they were close?”

“With a servant? No.” He laid his hand down on the wooden handrail and Hugh leaned his large body against it when he asked, “You’ve never had a servant, have you, Detective Varon?”

“I have not.”

“No, I thought not,” he sneered with obvious pleasure. “My children know not to become too familiar with our servants. The moment they do, I find someone to replace them. That’s the thing with servants… they’re replaceable.”

“But your children are not.”

“No,” he stiffly replied. “And that is why we must find Victoria.”