I patted my hair and stood. “Someone must know something. The girl couldn’t have just disappeared.”
“There’s something else.” Jane peered about the room, as though expecting the butler to pop up around the corner of the bed. “Another girl is missing, too. Mary, one of the washing maids.”
“Two maids gone.” I tapped my thumb against my lips. What could it mean? Did it have any connection to the murders? It was hard to see how, but then, what were the odds that two women would go missing in a house with a killer and it wasn’t connected?
I went to the wall and plucked my walking stick from its position in the corner. I’d only brought the one with me on this journey, a lovely mahogany stick, with a head made of solid onyx. I brought the round knob down on my palm and nodded approvingly at the sting.
I turned to Jane. “Why wouldn’t they talk to you, do you think?”
Jane snorted as she fluffed a pillow. “You think one servant is the same as another? That just because we eat our meals downstairs we’re all one family?” She shook her head. “Theyare a family. I might not be as much an outsider as you, but I’m still an outsider. And sometimes family closes ranks.”
Indeed. I rubbed my breastbone. My own family had secrets that would burn the ears off the devil. One of them had escaped the family, however. I looked at my trunk. The letters that Henry had found in Perrin’s study had been tucked away under someused underthings. Perrin hadn’t had it quite right, but he’d known enough. Enough to let me know that Cavindish hadn’t kept our secrets just between the two of us. That perhaps one night when he’d had a bit too much to drink, he’d let slip the most private agreement of our life together.
The betrayal burned. Perrin had been his brother, his family, too, but there were some things that happened between husband and wife that should never be known outside the marriage.
I exhaled a long breath. My betrayal had been bigger. Perhaps it was what I deserved.
“Mary…”
I held up a hand. “I’m fine.”
Jane gave me a sad smile. “He loved you. Never forget that.”
My husband had. I knew it. I also knew that sometimes… sometimes love wasn’t enough. I hadn’t explained the letters to Henry. I trusted in his discretion. But all of Perrin’s cutting remarks, his hatred toward me, they made sense now. He’d thought the worst of me, that I’d betrayed his brother and had an affair. Of course, he’d hated me.
I shook off the sickening feeling like it was a poorly tied cloak. “Best not to dwell on what can’t be changed.”
Jane nodded agreement.
“There remains a killer to be caught.” I strode for the door, ignoring Jane’s grumble. Action always cheered my disposition. Dwelling on the maudlin wasn’t a habit I tended to engage in. Setting my shoulders, I swung open the door—
—and stumbled over a furry lump.
Southey hopped to his feet and shook. He gave an excitedwoofand danced about my feet.
I will not kick a dog, I repeated to myself as I made my way down to breakfast, the path made more circuitous by the dodging and circling necessary to avoid the terrier. I was one of the first down. Mr. Ryder was in quiet conversation by thefar door with the butler. The Havenstones sat at the table, soft-boiled eggs cracked open before them.
I made my way to the sideboard and poured myself a cup of chocolate. I drank half of it where I stood, then refilled the mug. I wandered to the window for a better view as I enjoyed my sweetened brew.
Bertram was in the garden. He stood by the central fountain, his hands in his pockets. He looked somehow like a lost little boy. Who could blame him? With Perrin’s and Mr. Taylor’s murders, we were all feeling a bit lost.
I stepped over the dog to reach the casement doors, juggled my cup and walking stick while trying to depress the handle. I gave Mr. Ryder a nod of thanks when he hurried over to assist me. I managed to block Southey’s egress with my cane and shove the door closed with my hip before he could escape. I smiled at his indignant yip.
A warm breeze greeted me, the day promising some heat. I gave a quick thought to Perrin’s body in the ice house, now joined by Mr. Taylor’s. The magistrate would need to arrive soon, or the bodies removed to an undertaker in the village. They couldn’t remain where they were much longer.
Betram dipped his fingers in the fountain, then brought them to his mouth.
And neither could we. I wanted to discover the killer, but we would all go slowly mad if we stayed here much longer.
“Bertram.” I held up my mug in greeting as I made my way about the path to join him. “If you are thirsty, there is drink just in there.” I jerked my head toward the dining room with a laugh.
He blinked at me before giving his head a slight shake. “Good morning. How are you?”
“As well as anyone.” I leaned on my walking stick. “What are you doing out here?”
“Talking to Miranda.”
A shiver slid down my back. Talking to dead sisters wasn’t something I usually approved of with my morning chocolate. I paused before trying to make light of the comment. “As long as she doesn’t talk back, I suppose there can be no harm.”
