Lissa let her shoulders slump forward. “Then I guess I will apply at Woburn Manor. Do you know if Lord Leighhall is in need of another maid?”
Annie’s eyes rounded, and she grasped her package closer to her chest. “You do not want to work there.”
Surprised by the reaction, Lissa forced herself to remain calm, tamping down the excitement of learning something of great import. “Why wouldn’t I want to work there? Are the wages so poor? I thought he was well established.”
Annie shook her head, but didn’t lessen the hold on her package. “It’s not that. He offers very good wages. He has to because no one stays very long.” She looked up as two men walked by.
Lissa did as well and noticed Anthony talking to a man near the blacksmith’s across the square.
When Annie didn’t continue, she nudged her with her elbow. “Why don’t people stay long?”
As if she’d forgotten what they were discussing, Annie blinked, then her brows rose. “Oh, I don’t truly know why, but there’s been talk over the years.” She nodded. “Yes, much talk. Mum says I shouldn’t listen to gossip, but there have been so many stories, I’m sure part of them are true.” She gave a little shiver.
Now this sounded promising. Lissa leaned in. “I’ve always believed gossip to be at least half true.”
“You do? So do I.”
She waited for the woman to continue, but she seemed to have forgotten the track of their conversation. Not wishing to start from the beginning once again, Lissa led Annie toward what she needed to know. “What do they say about working for Lord Leighhall?”
“They say—and I only tell you what others say, not what I know—but they say that the maids and such must beware of the lord’s roving hands.”
Lissa widened her eyes as if in shock, though she didn’t doubt it was true. The man obviously had no respect for the gentler sex.
“I know you doubt me, but I heared that three women were so ashamed that they left his employ and never returned to their villages. No respecting woman here would work there, so they all come from other places. And what’s worse is that strangers like yerself will come here to work for him and they are never seen again!” The last was whispered loudly.
Lissa clutched her hands in her lap. “Surely you do not mean they were murdered?”
Annie shrugged. “No one knows. But they do say there is a locked room at Woburn Manor that the lord doesn’t allow anyone into, not even to clean it. Some say he does terrible things to his staff in there.”
“No, it cannot be.” Lissa endeavored to look duly shocked, though she doubted that people were killed in the man’s home. If they came to work for him then left his employ, they most likely returned to their own village or found another position. There would be no reason for anyone in Melton to see them again. But the locked room was intriguing, if such were true.
Annie nodded sagely as if she were the keeper of all truths about Lord Leighhall. “I swear to you, it is what has been said.”
“I cannot thank you enough for telling me. I must find my brother and tell him we cannot go there for work.”
Annie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so pleased I sat here and spoke to you. There are only these two estates in this area, but you may want to try those near Pickwell.”
Lissa rose and looped her basket over her arm. “Thank you for your kind help. I must find my brother directly.”
“Of course. I wish you well.”
Quickly, she took her leave and headed for the blacksmith’s, only to find Anthony was no longer there. Not seeing him in the vicinity, she continued toward their meeting place, an old well, just past the butcher’s at the start of the village.
That Leighhall could not keep his staff said much about him. She doubted the man gave references, and without references a maid or footman was in dire straits. Of course, they could say they were attending a sick parent for a time and use older references. That was what she would do.
So what did the Leighhall do—accost every maid, beat every footman, test out his ancient, odd weapons on them? Though she doubted that could be it, she’d heard of such goings-on in France, especially during the war. And what about the room? He may not allow servants into it, so perhaps he had nobility in? Maybe he was a spy for a foreign country and met with his contacts inside. Or maybe he hoarded gold and jewels in the room and didn’t trust his staff not to rob him. For all she knew, it could be a room of mirrors where he danced naked to admire himself.
She smirked at the thought. Dory had said the man was attractive and used that to his advantage to hide his evil intentions.
Whatever Leighhall’s reason for keeping a locked room from his servants, if that were indeed the case, it meant that Lissa and Anthony would have to find a way into that room. Anyone wholocked something away was either keeping a valuable secret or was as a mad as King George. She didn’t fully understand how England could have a mad king and a prince serving as regent, but they did. Since neither influenced her life in any way, she rarely gave it more than a passing thought.
As she rounded the corner of the butcher’s shop, the village well came into sight. The forest bushes and trees seemed to encroach upon it, closer than when it was first dug, but the posts that held the hoist to lower the bucket appeared fairly new, as if added in the last year. If there were a cup available, she wouldn’t mind a sip of cold water while she waited.
Walking down the narrow, worn path of dirt through the dry grass, she concluded that the well was still used by the people in the area who needed it. At that thought, she sensed someone else near and turned to see who it might be. As she suspected, someone else trod down the path, and from his smile, he’d often done so. The young man with dark, curly hair couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, but what had her slowing was his clothing. He was also of the servant class and might have valuable information about Leighhall.
She stopped a few steps from the well. His lanky stride quickly closed the distance. It wasn’t until he was but an arm’s length away that she recognized the look in his gaze. He had no intention of stopping to chat. Just as she moved her free hand toward the sleeve on her other arm, he reached out and grabbed her basket. She yanked hard on it, and since he didn’t let go, he lost his balance.
Slipping the blade from her sleeve, at the same time using his momentum to swing him around, she heard the thud as his head hit the well post. Like a cuirassier intent on an enemy, she slammed her elbow into his stomach before knocking his chin back and holding the knife to his throat. “Do not move,comprende?”
