“The house was left empty while you were in India?” Catherine asked.
“It was tenanted for a while, and much of the land still is.” Helena gave a slight shrug. “But the actual house has been unoccupied for the past two years, though my father employed a caretaker to oversee its basic maintenance. It just needs modernizing, I think.”
Henry addressed Philip. “Do you plan to live there after the wedding?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Philip replied, frowning. “My practice is in Bristol.”
“Nothing to stop you opening an office elsewhere, Philip.” Lysander took a sip of his brandy. “Solicitors are always in demand.”
Philip grimaced. “Something to consider, I suppose,” he said, and glanced at Helena. “We’ll see.”
Helena said nothing.
Later, when most of the guests had gone to bed, Catherine had an opportunity to speak to Lysander in a secluded corner of the music room. She’d told herself that she was imagining his strange mood and his fascination with Helena. But she couldn’t resist digging, just a little.
“Is everything all right, Lysander?”
He blinked. “Everything is fine, my love. Why do you ask?’
“You’ve been a little quiet tonight, that’s all.”
“Have I?” He stroked an errant strand of hair from her forehead. “I wasn’t aware.”
Catherine simply couldn’t help herself. “What do you think of Helena?”
A frown appeared as he pondered. “I can’t really fault her,” he said, at last. “What is your opinion? Do you think they’re suited, her and Philip? Is that what you’re worried about? I agree with Henry, that it all seems to be a bit hurried.”
“No, I’m not worried at all. It’s just—”
“You two look like you’re hatching a plot,” Henry said, approaching with a glass of something in his hand.
“We are, actually,” Lysander replied, straight-faced. “We’re planning to elope tonight. You know, Scotland and all that. But don’t tell anyone.”
“Lysander!” Catherine pressed a hand to her mouth, catching her stifled laugh.
Henry’s jaw dropped. “You had better be joking, Hawes, or by God, I swear I’ll—”
“Henry, of course he’s joking,” Catherine said, still trying not to laugh.
Henry scowled. “Well, it wasnotfunny, Hawes. Not in the least.”
Lysander grinned and squeezed Henry’s shoulder. “Your lack of faith in me is troubling, my friend,” he said. “Catherine was just asking me what I thought of Philip’s intended, that’s all. Want to share your opinion?”
An odd expression flitted across Henry’s face, too brief to interpret. “I’m not sure I have an opinion yet. I suppose I have to trust Philip’s judgement, despite what I said. Time will tell, I suppose, if he’s made the right choice.”
*
Sleep would notcome that night. Catherine tossed and turned, mulling over all that had happened that day. She couldn’t quite figure out why she still felt unsettled. Lysander had all but put her fears to rest. She actually felt a measure of guilt for doubting him. So why did she still feel disconcerted?
At last, weary of tossing and turning, Catherine slid from her bed, donned robe, and slippers, and wandered downstairs, candle in hand. The clock in the hall showed twenty minutes after one, and a mumble of male voices could be heard coming from somewhere. The games room, she thought, her suspicion confirmed moments later, when she heard the distinctive clatter of billiard balls colliding.
Treading quietly, she made her way to the back of the main staircase and took the servants’ stairs down to the kitchens. She was no stranger to the servants’ domain. As a child, she’d often sneaked down in search of a sweet treat, a freshly baked scone, perhaps, or a sugary biscuit.
She was greeted with a mewl from Sadie, the kitchen tabby cat, who sauntered over and proceeded to wrap herself around Catherine’s legs.
“Shouldn’t you be catching mice?” Catherine set the candle down and stooped to pet the animal. “Or maybe you’d prefer some milk. Just wait a minute, and I’ll fetch it.” Standing on tiptoes, she grabbed a glass and a saucer from the large dresser and placed them on the table. Then she wandered into the cold-room and brought out the milk jug, to be greeted by several chirps of excitement from Sadie. Catherine splashed some milk into the saucer. “Here you are,” she said, and crouched to place it on the floor, dropping it with a clatter when the cat suddenly hissed and arched her back.
“Sadie, what on earth…?” As she straightened, a shape loomed out of the darkness in the hallway beyond. Catherine let out a cry and pressed a hand to her chest, her heart doing somersaults when a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. A black silhouette. Indefinable.
