It wasn’t tall with castle-like crenellations. There were vines. They hugged half of the front of the house, climbing all the way up its two stories. But the house itself was classical, its face spread out with a rectangular sturdiness. A manor designed with symmetry in mind, and the style was exactly what Lucy would have wished if she could design a home of her own.
Yet its simple outline wasn’t what first caught her eye. Lucy’s gaze was drawn initially to the windows.So much glinting glass. Three in a row on either side of the front door and seven in a row on the upper story. As the carriage took the final curve, she noticed that the side of the house had the exact same number of windows, most of them shuttered at this hour.
“And here we be, miss,” the driver called as he pulled the horses to a stop directly in front of the entry door. A warm glow lit a few ground floor windows, and Lucy was thankful for that.
How she dearly hoped her aunt was inside and might still be awake to greet her.
“Shall I wait, miss?”
“I’ll be all right,” Lucy called up as she lifted a few shillings out to him. “Thank you for getting me here safely.”
The man touched the edge of his cap and turned the horses to start the journey back up the drive.
Lucy couldn’t stop staring up at the windows. She couldn’t wait to be inside when early morning light spilled through. Perfect light for painting, and she suspected that aspect must factor into her aunt’s love of the place.
“Hello, miss.”
Lucy nearly shot straight out of her boots. She hadn’t noticed that someone had opened the front door. The lady stood dressed in what seemed to be her nightdress and held a single candle, her hand braced around the flame to keep the breeze from snuffing it out.
“I’m Lady Lucy Westmont, and I’m here to seemy aunt, Lady Cassandra. She invited me. I know she may be abed at this hour—”
“We were told to expect you, my lady. Come in.” The woman lifted an arm half covered by her shawl and urged Lucy inside, then she glanced nervously behind her. “Let’s get you warm and tell you of the situation.”
Lucy stepped inside, and the lady helped her out of her cloak, then waited for Lucy to remove her gloves.
“Did you not receive her ladyship’s message, my lady?”
“I didn’t. What message?”
“A friend of her ladyship fell ill, and Lady Cassandra left yesterday to tend to her. A message was sent to the station, but we weren’t certain if it would arrive too late to be delivered to you.”
Disappointment gathered with the exhaustion she felt, and Lucy wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“That is unfortunate, but I hope her friend is better soon. I’ll get along as well as I can until she returns. I’m sure all will be well.” The housekeeper didn’t seem reassured and still wore an expression of distress. Lucy noticed that she’d retrieved a folded document from the pocket of her skirt.
“That’s not the situation I was referring to, my lady.” The woman’s voice wobbled a bit, and as Lucy drew closer, she could sense her nervous tension.
Once she moved a few steps into the foyer, Lucy noticed that several maids and a footman had gathered a little further down the hall. They whispered to each other and cast furtive glances her way.
“First, tell me your name and then tell me what’s wrong.” Lucy spoke to the woman in the calmest tone she could manage, though she was still shivering from the carriage ride.
“Elmira Fox, miss. I’m her ladyship’s housekeeper. And this is McKay, Senga, and Mary.” She gestured toward the other servants huddled nearby. Then the lady stunned her by calling out, “Drummond!”
A moment later, an older man appeared, somewhat bleary-eyed but neatly dressed. The butler, Lucy guessed.
“I’ve got him contained,” the older man said with a relieved sigh. “Checked on him a few minutes later, and he’d nodded off like a man who’s had nae sleep in days. If we keep our voices down”—he pinned Mrs. Fox with a knowing look—“he’ll be out until dawn, I wager.”
“How can it be true?” Senga stepped forward, twisting her apron in her hands. The girl had been crying if her red-rimmed eyes were any indication.
“Someone, please tell me what’s happened. Who is contained?” Lucy offered a reassuring glance at each of them in turn. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can find a solution.”
“There’s nae solution, my lady,” the young footman, McKay, said matter-of-factly, “and LadyCassandra will be in a right fine fettle when she returns.”
Lucy could well imagine her aunt being angry at anyone who’d unsettled her staff to this degree. She was a passionate woman and fiercely loyal. But what Lucy couldn’t fathom was what might have caused the worry and anger she saw on every face turned her way.
The house was quiet. Nothing seemed out of place—except for her bursting in on all of them in the dark of night.
She turned to Mrs. Fox.
