But now he didn’t want her to leave. Why?
Perhaps, his reasoning owed to nothing more than the man’s innate gallantry. No way to know. She mustn’t keep dwelling on the man and what he liked or didn’t like or wanted or didn’t want.
She should—shewould—leave on the ‘morrow. This way, she would certainly arrive home before her parents. They need never know of her adventure, whereby she uncovered nothing whatsoever about Gaston’s death.
She’d had such high hopes.
In retrospect, she could admit that solving Gaston’s murder might not have changed anything for Annabelle, personally. Her mother had always adored Gaston, and Annabelle had always managed to annoy her. Mayhap it was time for her to accept reality.
Nearing the hill’s peak, from which the land sloped downward in a steep decline, she paused to catch her breath and to study the building she’d come upon, fashioned of brick, and which appeared to sprout from the earth itself. The castle’s defunct lime kilns, she realized.
On closer inspection, the flat area actually boasted several large holes. Leaving the pathway, she picked her way across the uneven ground to peer down the first such hole.
It was a tunnel—an access point—through which coal and lime could be dropped into the kiln pot chambers. A clever design.
She made her way back to the path and descended the hill.
At the bottom, she rounded the brick building and noted an adjacent and heretofore unseen wooden work shed that likely doubled as a stable and tool storage facility for kiln workers.
On the building’s front, several large arches, some round, some conical, seemed to provide the only access, both for incoming workers and outgoing product. Sacks of refuse and piles of brick blocked the openings, save for one unimpeded archway. She’d take a quick gander and start back.
***
“We didna’ ken what else to do wit’ her, milord, after we foun’ her washed ashore this morn’,” Old Jed, speaking for the men, told Sterling.
“You did exactly the right thing, men,” Sterling murmured.
Inwardly, he bemoaned his mounting complications. With Annabelle’s arrival, he had enough to deal with without the fishermen delivering a dead body nobody recognized on his doorstep. He’d be hard-pressed to keep the body out of Annabelle’s sights, knowing her penchant for poking around where she wasn’t invited. Already she’d been eyeing the small crowd. He’d glimpsed her at the window before she ducked out of sight.
He’d have to bar the stable door.
Better still would be to move the hapless victim, and store her elsewhere until the coroner came to collect her.
The kilns would do nicely, for a multitude of reasons. Already, the body emitted a foul stench. Using lime might help mask the odor. Too, the unheated, cave-like building would slow decomposition somewhat.
“You’re sure she’s not local? No one’s reported anyone missing?”
“No, milord,” Jed answered. “And it’s for certain she be not one o’ ours. Take a look at the miss’s frock. It be far too fine for any o’ our women to be prancin’ about in, lest they had awedding or feast to attend, and even then.” He gestured to the girl with a vague sweep of his gnarled hand.
Sterling eyed the woman lying in his cart. Old Jed made a fair point. Household workers, shop clerks, and fisher families comprised the bulk of the local town folk. They would have neither the desire nor the access to the fine silk fabric and stylish gown—a travel dress, hethought, based upon his limited understanding of women’s fashions. Along the lines of what Annabelle might purchase.
“Where did you say you discovered her?” he asked, scrutinizing her, unpleasant as it was, for further clues. Something that might tell him her name, where she’d come from.
Her boots gave him pause. They were not high-quality. More the sort housemaids wore. Plain, inexpensive, durable.
“The shore at the shallows, below the village and the harbor. A few men spotted her when they went to check the traps,” Jed replied.
He gave that some thought. “So, considering the tidal flow, it’s likely someone took a boat out in the channel between Beal and the island and dumped her there, thinking she’d wash out to sea.” If so, that person hadn’t thought his dump site through.
Either that, or he didn’t care if her body was discovered.
“Aye, someone from the mainland,” Jed answered, stressing the wordmainland.“Some fiend choked the life out of the wee miss wi’ her poor gib-face, and dumped her in the soup.”
Sterling hadn’t paid much attention to the woman’s looks or lack thereof, but at Jed’s mention, he peered at her lifeless visage.
She had not been an attractive woman by anyone’s standards. In point of fact, her flat features and thin mouth marked her as downright homely.Homely. An odd prickling at his nape had him brushing his hand over the fine hairs there.
The business concluded, Sterling walked them out. After seeing them off, he went back into the stable to eye the shrouded woman with the unfortunate face, sturdy boots, and fine gown.
