There weren’t many doors here on the lower level. There were two storerooms, one in which the books were kept, and one which only had stored goods, and there was the door that led to the kitchens.
She looked in the kitchens.
They were empty.
She looked in one of the storerooms, and it was empty, too.
The other storeroom was locked.
However, she’d seen a set of keys hanging on a hook in the last room she’d been in.
She darted back there and eased the keys down off the hook, doing her best to keep them from jangling. Holding them tightly against her chest, she started back for the hallway.
Voices.
She backed away, into the shadows, and waited.
“He was in such a temper last night,” came the voice of Betsy. “I don’t know what to do with that man. He gets worse by the day, I think.”
“Yes, he’s a mess without Miss Anne,” rejoined the other voice. “I can’t think Mr. Hardy will be happy here without her.” It was another woman.
The two voices got louder, and then seemed to be lingering just at the door of the room where Jane was hiding.
“I think he’ll leave, after all,” said the other voice. “Even though he claimed this was his home and he wouldn’t ever wish to be anywhere else. I think he can’t help himself.”
“You might be right,” said Betsy. “But I thought Mr. Hardy and Mr. Seward were reaching an agreement about keeping the place open.”
“Mr. Eves won’t be pleased about that,” said the other voice.
“Mr. Eves can be displeased all he likes,” said Betsy.
The other woman laughed delightedly. “You wouldn’t say that to his face, however.”
“I suppose not,” agreed Betsy, somewhat dejectedly.
And then, finally, the two voices moved on. They went into the kitchen and their voices were too far away, too muffled to make out.
Jane moved out of her hiding place, taking the keys with her, and went back to unlock that room.
It was dark in there, no windows at all. She would have liked a candle or a lamp, but she settled for leaving the door open, even though that might give her presence away, especially if this room was meant to be locked at all times. Seeing the door ajar like that might cause an alarm.
She imagined Mr. Hardy shutting the door on her and turning the key—
Except I have the key here,she said to herself.
And then she moved further into the room, which did seem to be filled with barrels of ale and big bags of flour and rice and things of that nature.
Then, from a distant corner, she heard a groan.
She rushed in the direction of the noise.
He was just a shadowy figure, lying on the ground, and she wasn’t sure…
“Miss Jane!”
“Lord Byron? It’s you?”
“It is,” he said, getting to his feet. He brushed at the front of his pants. “Let’s get out of here.”
