by Amy Corwin
“He could have come back later. See if you can trace him.”
“Certainly. Shall we agree to meet here in the evening, so I can keep you informed of my findings?”
“Agreed.” Hugh shook hands with Gaunt.
Gaunt’s grip tightened as he studied him. “How are you holding up?”
Hugh shrugged, unwilling to discuss his personal affairs any more than necessary. Nonetheless, the question made him aware of the uncomfortable tension tightening his gut and enflaming an anger he hoped to hide beneath his normal, affable exterior.
“No one suspects who you are?”
Hugh forced a chuckle. “No. If they suspect anything, it’s that I’m one of the previous earl’s by-blows.”
“I wouldn’t relish remaining incognito — as a servant no less — in my own home. When you end this charade, send word. I can investigate —”
Hugh held up a hand. “It is not as unbearable as you might think. In fact, I’m quite enjoying it so far.” This stretched the truth a bit; he suspected he might learn some uncomfortable truths about himself, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter how much it hurt. He had to do this, needed to do it to find out what had happened. Why Lionel had had to die.
He glanced at the house. His duties, left undone, haunted him. This masquerade could not last forever. However, despite his tension, part of him found his new position freeing. He hadn’t realized how much responsibility he had shouldered when the title of Earl of Monnow had come to him after his father’s death. He almost envied his servants, except they only had a few hours off on Sundays and one Wednesday a month.
So much for freedom. He suspected that after a week or so, he would discover that the role of earl was preferable.
“I will leave you to it, then.” Gaunt said.
Hugh nodded his dismissal, watching as Gaunt disappeared around the corner of the house. Who could he question next, without raising more consternation and doubts about his own presence at Ormsby? Hugh strolled back to the library door.
For the first time, it occurred to him that there were few people he had ever confided in; few who knew him well, except for Lionel. He was alone with only gossip and rumor to guide him.
Chapter Seventeen
“She should always be punctual in her attendance, and assiduous in her attention.” —The Complete Servant
“What has happened?” Helen asked as she guided her employer into her bedroom. Miss Leigh’s gray face and staring eyes alarmed her. “Are you unwell?”
“Nothing has happened. I’m tired. Very tired.” Miss Leigh stared at the bed with an uncomprehending gaze.
“Would you like another brandy? A restorative?”
Miss Leigh shook her head, but Helen suspected she had not heard what she had said. The older woman looked terrible. Her skin sagged and her thin lips moved as if she were talking quietly to herself. Not waiting for a reply, Helen found her way to the kitchen and requested a hot toddy for Miss Leigh. Despite the cook’s grumbles, she concocted the drink and handed it over to Helen, all the while studying her as if she suspected she wanted the drink for herself.
Balancing the steaming mug on a silver tray, Helen hurried upstairs. When she opened the bedroom door, Miss Leigh still stood where she’d left her, in the center of her room, staring down at her bed.
Pausing to catch her breath, Helen gently touched Miss Leigh’s wrist. “I’ve brought you a toddy, Miss Leigh.”
“A toddy! Whatever for? I detest those things —”
“I think you need it, you must have had a terrible shock. Why don’t you sit here by the window and drink this? I’ll get your bed ready.”
When she did not move, Helen gently steered her towards the low-backed padded chair, which had a delicate pie-crust table standing next to it. Setting the tray down on the table, she helped Miss Leigh seat herself before going to the wardrobe and pulling out a heavy woolen shawl which she draped around the older woman’s shoulders. At the touch of the thick material, Miss Leigh grabbed the edges and pulled it tightly around her as if she were freezing — despite the flames from the fireplace brightening the room. At last, she picked up the heavy tankard and took a sip.
Grimacing, she started to put it down until Helen touched the side and said, “Please, take another swallow. It will make you feel so much better.”
“I feel perfectly fine.” Miss Leigh’s querulous voice shook.
“I’m relieved,” Helen replied, keeping her voice low and soothing. “I was so worried when you returned so soon after dinner.” She desperately wanted to ask again what had happened, but she realized belatedly that as a servant, she could not question her employer.
“I was tired.” Miss Leigh sighed. “I suppose the servants will hear soon enough. They’ve found the earl’s boat.”
“The earl’s boat? Was it missing?” Helen held her breath. She had just asked a very impertinent question and would be lucky if Miss Leigh did not berate her for doing so.
“Not, missing, no. The earl took it out a few days ago. He has not returned.”
“Oh, Miss Leigh! I’m terribly sorry. Are you sure you do not want the doctor?”
“Do not be absurd.” She drained the toddy. “An inquiry agent, perhaps.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Miss Leigh stood up, weaving slightly before she placed the mug on the small table with a snap. The table shuddered and Helen hurriedly steadied it, watching her employer.
“What I need is an inquiry agent! My nephew, Lionel, is missing.”
“But the earl —”
“Forget the earl! The earl is not missing, my darling Lionel is! Now, fetch me my shawl!”
“Your shawl?”
Shaking a fist under Helen’s nose, Miss Leigh focused on her, brows drawn down tightly over her thin nose. “Yes, my shawl! You are not too bright, are you, my girl? I thought not. And your big dolt of a brother is most likely just as bad. Ignorant peasants, both of you! Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. You have been hired without a by-your-leave or warning, which I should have expected knowing the earl as I do. But I can tell you, young woman, I will not tolerate flightiness or wool-gathering! Now get my shawl!”
“But you cannot mean to go out now! It’s nearly midnight!” A ringing slap stung Helen’s face, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I can or cannot do!”
“I’m sorry, Miss!” Helen stepped back out of reach, holding her cool fingers against the heat of her throbbing cheek. “I was worried about you going out so late. I’m sorry.”
“Well, don’t worry about me,” Miss Leigh said, although her pinched look of anger gradually subsided into a tense concentration. “I shall speak to Mr. Symes, instead. I shall send him for that inquiry agent — the one who was just here.”
“Very good, Miss. Shall I ring for him?”
“That will do. Yes. Ring for Mr. Symes.” Smoothing her skirts, Miss Leigh hesitated before sitting down again, rather like a queen resuming her throne.
Eager to leave before Miss Leigh changed her mind, Helen hurried out. Her cheek prickled and burned, presaging the development of a bruise.
Well, she was a servant now. And if this continued, she would shortly look like a very abused one.
Chapter Eighteen
“ … besides, a liar is always in fear of being detected ….” —The Complete Servant
Hurrying toward the front hall to find Mr. Symes, Helen was stopped by someone calling her name.
“Helen,” Hugh called, striding toward her.
She stopped and almost faced him, before her fingers fluttered to her reddened cheek. Turning partially away, she nodded and waited for him to join her.
“Have you settled in?”
“Yes. But I’m supposed to be finding Mr. Symes. Miss Leigh wants to speak to him.”
“Why didn’t you just ring for him?” he asked, sounding exasperated. When he moved round to face her more directly, she sidled away, keeping he
r eyes on the floor. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing.”
Without warning, he gripped her chin and brought her face up. “What happened? Did she hit you?”
“I, um, it was nothing. I forgot my place and asked too many questions.”
“Damn it, Helen, this is intolerable. Miss Leigh is —”
“Miss Leigh is just a sad old woman. It’s not that dreadful. I won’t forget again.”
His fingers brushed over her face, leaving streaks of warmth behind. “You don’t have to stay. If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can find it and return it to you.” He smiled before releasing her. “You’re too pretty to be a maid.”
The careless remark, on top of her anxiety over her position with Miss Leigh, almost made her lose her temper. How like a man to think prettiness made a woman into a silly, ineffectual creature who could not be expected to bear the rigors of an active life. How like a man to notice only the frills and furbelows, the color of one’s hair, and assume that was all there was to see. Even Hugh saw only the pale blonde of her hair and let that blind him to the plainness of her features.
“I’m perfectly capable of finding the —” She stopped and clamped her teeth together, ignoring the gleam in Hugh’s blue eyes. He had almost tricked her into telling him what she was searching for. That would never do. “I will handle my affairs while you handle yours.”
When he shrugged good-humoredly and turned to go, she caught his sleeve. Without noticing it, he nearly lifted her off her feet before he halted.
“Wait,” she said. “I was sent to find Mr. Symes. She wants to hire an inquiry agent to search for her nephew.”
“Her nephew? The earl?”
“No, the younger one. That is, I’m sure she means to search for both, but most especially for the younger one. I believe his given name is Lionel.” Gazing into Hugh’s eyes, she was shocked to see a swift, dark shadow pass through them, leaving his face hard and almost expressionless.
“She told you that? That she intends to hire an inquiry agent?”
“Yes. And I was thinking, well, since you’re an inquiry agent, perhaps you could help her?”
“I see.” He hummed tunelessly and glanced over her head as if considering it. “Tell her that you ran into me and discovered that the earl’s lawyer has already hired an inquiry agent for another matter.”
“But what if she wishes to speak to him?”
“Inform her that he will call on her tomorrow afternoon. I’ll send word and arrange for an agent — another agent — to come here.”
“Who?”
“Tell her that Mr. Gaunt of Second Sons will speak to her. That ought to satisfy her.”
“Is he a … colleague?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He studied her face. “He is already looking into this affair.”
“Then he will help Miss Leigh?”
“Yes. I believe so.”
After searching his face, Helen agreed to his suggestion, feeling in some mysterious way shut out, as if he did not trust her. Well, that suited her admirably. In a day or two, she would be gone. Then the large, enigmatic Hugh and his dalliances with the maids would be forgotten no more than an hour later. If that.
Chapter Nineteen
“She is generally to be near the person of her lady ….” —The Complete Servant
Early the following afternoon, Helen mentioned Mr. Gaunt as she carefully untangled the delicate chain of an onyx pendant she had found bunched up in Miss Leigh’s handkerchief drawer.
“If you think he will serve our purposes, then I suppose I must see him. Arrange an interview, if you please. And while you are about it,” Miss Leigh said, “cut some more flowers. These have withered already and look so dowdy.”
She waved the vase to Helen, who curtseyed and fled. Mr. Symes was not in the hallway and there was no sign of Hugh. She would have to wait until the inquiry agent came to speak to Hugh again.
In the meantime, she had flowers to cut. She was heading down the hallway when she caught sight of Mr. Caswell. He was walking ahead of her, passing through the library and then out of the French doors into the garden. She followed and noticed a man she assumed to be Mr. Gaunt meeting Hugh near a large oak at the edge of the knot garden. They were almost hidden behind the large trunk and obviously did not wish to be disturbed.
Keeping an eye on the pair, Helen hurriedly cut an armful of pink and blue hyacinths, their perfume filling the breeze warmed by the sunshine streaming over her shoulders. When the two men separated, she ran after Mr. Gaunt, but his long legs carried him upstairs ahead of her. He entered the small sitting room where Miss Leigh waited.
Helen hesitated and then boldly entered, as well. A large, white vase, already full of water, stood near the door, and she thrust the flowers into it before carrying it to the table next to Miss Leigh’s chair. Neither Mr. Gaunt nor Miss Leigh noticed her, however. They were too intent on their discussion.
At least no one questioned her about how Mr. Gaunt had come to be nearby, or how Helen had managed to arrange for him to visit Ormsby so quickly. Hugh’s secret remained still safe.
“My nephew, Lionel Castle, is missing!” Miss Leigh announced dramatically, after questioning Mr. Gaunt severely about his background.
Her loud voice almost made Helen knock the vase over. She held it for a moment and bowed her head, continuing to arrange the flowers on the table at Miss Leigh’s elbow. When she could no longer find anything more to do with them, she edged discreetly into the embrasure of the window behind Miss Leigh, and picked up a bit of mending she’d left there earlier.
“When did you last see him?” Mr. Gaunt asked.
“Nearly a week ago; Monday, the nineteenth of April.” She twisted her thin hands in her lap, ignoring Mr. Gaunt and the fact that she had neglected to invite him to sit.
Or perhaps it was on purpose. Mr. Gaunt was a member of the working classes and as such, could not expect the courtesy of a seat or cup of tea unless he wished to visit the kitchen. Helen twisted in her seat, trying not to think about what this meant as far as her own status and that of Mr. Caswell were concerned.
Miss Leigh touched one pale check. “Lionel kissed me on the cheek and told me he was going to visit the vicar. That would be Mr. Davies. However, he never arrived.”
“What makes you believe he never arrived?”
She picked up a letter from the table next to her and waved it. “This! This note came from Mr. Davies. It is addressed to my nephew. Why would he write to Lionel if Lionel were visiting him? No. It can only mean one thing. He never arrived. He is missing.”
“Have you any idea where he might have gone?” The speculative gleam in Mr. Gaunt’s dark eyes made Helen uncomfortable. He looked like a man who knew something unpleasant and did not want to divulge it.
“London, perhaps. You know how young men are. Nonetheless, he must be found. He must be sent back to college.” She smiled, pride glowing in her face. “He is studying to join the clergy. He will make a fine clergyman. He is so kind, you see, so thoughtful. Quite unlike his older brother.”
“Yes, well, I will certainly made inquiries about his movements.” He stared thoughtfully at the paper clenched in Miss Leigh’s hand before he said, “Is that all?”
“All?” Miss Leigh’s voice rose.
“Is anyone else missing?”
“Anyone else?”
He hesitated before answering. “Someone who may have accompanied your nephew. A valet? Manservant of some sort? Any other member of the household?” Something in his questions made Helen cold, as if an icy draught were seeping through the window behind her despite the sparkling sunshine.
“No, of course not. Whatever are you thinking?”
“What of your other nephew? Perhaps I should start by speaking to him?” Mr. Gaunt continued relentlessly. “Mr. Castle might have told him something he did not mention to you.”
“The earl is not here,” she replied, tight-lipped.
“He took his boat out. Sailing.” She said the last word as if it were a curse.
“Sailing. I see. When I arrived here, I heard about some debris found on the beach. A boat. Have you heard anything about that?”
“A boat? I do not listen to gossip, young man. And the earl is an excellent sailor. He can take care of himself, I’m sure. I am not worried about him. It is Lionel you are to find. Is that understood?” She twisted her hands together and frowned at him as if fearing he did not comprehend the urgency of the situation. “Lionel is young. Young men can be careless with no thought for tomorrow. He must be found.”
“Yes. I understand.” He bowed. “With your leave, perhaps I should commence my inquiries?”
“Yes, yes.” She waved him away. “Get on with it. You cannot stand there all day staring like a crow atop a fence post.”
When the agent left, Helen hurried to Miss Leigh’s side. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
Miss Leigh’s graying eyebrows bristled as she frowned. “Tea. A pot of tea. I must think.”
“Yes, Miss.” Helen hesitated, before saying very softly, “I hope your nephew is quite well.”
“Of course he is,” Miss Leigh replied sharply, jumping out of her seat to pace to the fireplace and back to her chair. “He must be. I don’t know what I will do if he’s not. He must be all right.”
Helen waited, but Miss Leigh did not elaborate. She merely continued pacing, her thin lips moving soundlessly as if trying to reassure herself.
Finally, Helen moved towards the door. “I’m sure he is. I’ll fetch your tea. I’m sure your nephew will return soon.”
Chapter Twenty
“He is expected to be a competent judge of the nature and qualities of provisions ….” —The Complete Servant
