“I pulled m’lord off of m’lady, and lay him there,” he said, pointing to a place near the fire pit. “He were not dead yet.”
Lakehurst looked at him in surprise. “Cassie—I mean, Lady Darkford said he was dead.”
He nodded sadly. “I told her that.”
“Did he say anything?” When Carlyle didn’t answer, Lakehurst realized he had not talked directly at Carlyle. He touched Carlyle’s shoulder, and the man turned to him. “Did he say anything?” he asked again.
Carlyle nodded. “But I don’t see his lips. Part I see looks like he says My, my bro—or bra…” He shook his head. “I could not see!” he said, agitated.
“I understand,” Lakehurst said. “But you took care of Lady Darkford.”
“Aye, back to the castle,” he said, pointing to the back of the large room.
“Is there a way into the castle from here?”
“Was.” His face took on a hard expression. “I pegged the door closed, then blocked the passage.”
“Show me,” Lakehurst said.
Carlyle led him to a tapestry hung on the stone wall. When he pushed it aside, Lakehurst saw a narrow passage. He held his torch high, then entered the passage. About twenty feet in, he could see the path blocked with furniture Carlyle had dragged into the space. It was all jammed in tight, and would take time for anyone to dismantle his blockade. The makeshift solution caused Lakehurst to smile. Something else for his fictional stories.
As they made their way out of the cave, Carlyle doused every torch. Outside, the sun had risen, and the fog burned away. Lakehurst touched Carlyle’s shoulder. “You are a good man, Carlyle. Thank you.”
He shrugged, dipped his head down, and turned to ascend the trail, embarrassed to be recognized.
As Lakehurst climbed the trail back up to the castle forecourt, he thought about Cassie tied to that stone altar, the flickering torchlight, the slight echoes of voices, and the masks and cloaks the men wore. And worse, the knife against her fair shoulder. He flinched as he imagined it, and a cold hand clenched his heart.
* * *
The carriageswith the Malmsby London servants rolled into the forecourt in the early afternoon.
Mr. Harold, the butler, and Mrs. Pritchet, the upstairs housekeeper from Malmsby House—eager to prove her ability to be a full housekeeper—together inspected the castle. They praised the village locals who had come to the castle to work for all that had been done, then immediately got to work changing everything.
“I guess that puts me in my place,” Gwinnie said sourly to Cassie as they sat together in the parlor, banished there by Mr. Harold and Mrs. Pritchet.
Cassie laughed. “They don’t know what we have done over the last few days.”
Gwinnie squirmed where she sat, then agreed. “I was actually rather proud of us.”
“I know. And we did a great deal, which I assume they will learn as they talk more to the villagers and Rose and Agnes. What has me concerned is I haven’t seen a cook with them.”
“Mr. Harold told me the cook is coming with a wagon of provisions purchased in Wells. He thought he and the food should be here in the next hour or so.”
“I’m certain Agnes and Rose will be relieved to hear that.”
“We were lucky that they had some experience with cooking from their lives before becoming ladies' maids,” Gwinnie said.
“I know Agnes’s background as we come from the same village. What is Rose’s background?”
“Rose’s father owned a public house. She worked there, and he protected her from the more importuning of his clientele. But her father died, and her uncle inherited the business. He wasn’t so nice about protection. Fact is, he thought he could make extra coins off of her servicing customers laying on her back instead of serving food and drink.”
“Disgusting,” Cassie said.
“That is life in the city for many women,” Gwinnie said. “She was lucky to end up at Mrs. Southerlands’. That’s where we met. I fortuitously taught her how to go on as a ladies’ maid so when my maid married a local haberdasher and gave notice, Rose was able to come work for me.”
Gwinnie twirled a ribbon from her gown around one finger. “So,” she said, “what do you think of my brother?”
“What do you mean?” Cassie said, deliberately evading. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look too closely at her feelings for Lakehurst. At least not yet.
