Padraig answered with a curt nod as a dark-haired man with a neatly trimmed, pointed beard stepped forward.
“In that case,” Hargrave looked between Montague and Padraig, “you are all dismissed.” He turned on his heel and strode toward a staircase springing from the marble paving in the left rear corner of the soaring entry, and the servants scattered like beetles before a torch at night. In a moment the entry was empty save for Padraig, Lucan, and the steward.
“Rolf,” the knight said. “Please forgive the inconvenience this might cause you in your duties.”
“Have no care for it, Sir Lucan,” the man said. His face was fish-belly pale within the tight frame of his rich, dark red hair, his eyes like glistening jet. “I am at your service, always.” The man then turned to Padraig. “If you will follow me, lord.”
Lord.
Padraig looked to Lucan, suddenly unsure but loath to show it. The great house was cathedral-silent now—the scores of servants vanished and leaving an echoing stillness that somehow seemed ominous to Padraig as he noticed the portraits soaring up a wood-paneled wall, their subjects staring at him accusingly, judging him.
Montague seemed to read Padraig’s thoughts. “It is well,” he advised quietly. “I would not let you go alone otherwise. However, I would advise that you not take it upon yourself to go exploringin the night.”
“I shall provide Master Boyd with anything he requires before I retire,” Rolf volunteered.
“Very good.” Lucan looked back to Padraig. “Keep the bolt thrown until morning.”
Padraig gave him a nod, but then held up his open hand before Lucan’s doublet to stop him when he would have gone. “The maid you spoke to. Beryl.”
“What of her?”
“Doyou know her?”
“She was certainly not employed by the Lady Hargrave when last I visited,” he replied.
Rolf cleared his throat quietly, drawing Padraig’s attention. “If I may; Beryl has only been at Darlyrede for the half year. She is under special duties to the lady.” The man looked back to Lucan. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of Sir Lucan’s calling since the turn of the year; is that not so, sir?”
“Indeed. January, if I recall, Rolf,” Lucan confirmed. “Until the morn, then.” He gave a shallow bow in Padraig’s direction and then strode quickly toward the rear of the entry, disappearing into a darkened archway.
Lucan Montague knew Darlyrede House well, obviously—its servants,its corridors.
“This way, lord,” Rolf repeated, his words barely louder than a whisper, and yet they seemed to carry in a spiral to the very height of the tall ceiling, where they evaporated into heavy, pressing silence brought on by the glares ofthe portraits.
Padraig followed the steward from the entry, unable to help the feeling that the quiet of Darlyrede House was nothing more than the insulating thickness of decades of secrets.
And it caused him to wonder where the pretty Beryl had gone, and why she had seemed so afraid.
Chapter 3
Euphemia Hargrave’s chamber was empty upon Beryl’s return. The fifteen candles burned low, the tray untouched as usual. The connecting door was shut tight, but, pressed by Lord Hargrave’s directive, Beryl crossed the floor to rap upon it lightly. She would have done so even had Lord Hargravenot bidden her.
“My lady?” she called.“It is Beryl.”
There was no answer, and so Beryl pressed the latch, but the door had been bolted on the other side. The woman was so frail, so fragile, Beryl imagined a hundred tragic scenarios that could have befallen the ladyin her absence.
She rapped again, slightly louder. “Lady Hargrave, please,are you well?”
“Beryl?” The call was faint beyond the stout door. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, milady.” She swallowed her relief and tried to steady her voice. “I’ve come to tell you of the happenings.”
There was a scraping of metal on wood, and then the door opened a crack, revealing a pale slice of the noblewoman’s face.
“I dared journey on my own to the top of the stair,” Caris whispered, and Beryl could see even in the shadow of the portal the woman’s dry, trembling lips.
Beryl gasped. “Alone? My lady, forgive me, but what if youhad stumbled?”
“How could I not see for myself, though? Such chaos. I heard everything.”
