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“Yes.”

“That proves very little.”

Baines smiled faintly. “You have developed an alarming fondness for ruining my conclusions.” His gaze lingered upon her for a fraction too long, and Judith looked away before the warmth in his eyes could encourage thoughts she had spent most of the morning attempting to suppress.

“We should speak to the servants.”

“We were about to do so.”

“At least we may eliminate the females, and limit enquiries to those who dealt regularly with visiting servants during the compromised gatherings.”

“How many does that leave us?”

“Enough to occupy you until dinner. However, we should speak to Mrs. Partridge first.”

The housekeeper received them in her sitting room with the resigned expression of a woman who had managed Blackthorn’s domestic establishment for twenty-seven years and consequently believed very few questions to be worth the asking.

Mrs. Partridge was a substantial woman in her late sixties, with smooth grey hair beneath a starched cap, a black gown relieved only by the ring of keys at her waist, and pale eyes capable of reducing an incompetent housemaid to confession without the inconvenience of raising her voice.

“A list of visiting servants?” she repeated.

“If you please,” Judith said.

Mrs. Partridge looked at Baines. He smiled in return.

She looked back at Judith. “All of them?”

“Those who have visited the house more than once since September.”

“That will still be a list of some length, miss.”

“I am aware of that likelihood.”

Mrs. Partridge opened a cupboard and removed a narrow book.

Baines leaned towards Judith. “Another ledger.”

“Do try to contain yourself.”

“I am beginning to believe Blackthorn could reconstruct the Last Judgement from its accounts.”

Mrs. Partridge regarded him without amusement. “Only if Judgement occurred on the estate, sir.”

Judith lowered her head to disguise a laugh.

Baines looked delighted. “I like her.”

Mrs. Partridge placed the book upon the table and began working through the names. Some Judith recognized immediately, while others required prompting from the housekeeper.

Lady Beckenham’s former groom; Colonel Bosworth’s man; Mrs. Pembroke’s footman, two grooms belonging to the Lady Dunsmore and Lord Cranford’s valet, Mallory.

“Mallory,” Baines repeated.

Mrs. Partridge looked up. “Yes, sir?”

“He has been here often?”

“As often as Lord Cranford visits.”