by Amy Corwin
“Helen,” Miss Leigh said from the doorway, “What are you doing?”
Helen whirled round, her eyes round with fear. “I came to find you. It is time to dress for dinner.”
“So it is,” Miss Leigh said in clipped tones. “What have you lain out?”
“The — the black velvet,” Helen replied, trying to retain her composure. She opened the wardrobe and carefully lifted out the heavy dress, thankful she had taken the time to slip a few lavender sachets between the folds the day before. When she shook it out, it retained a slight, pleasant fragrance. “You want to look your best with your sisters here,” she added. “And the cut of this dress is superb. You will quite outshine them.”
Miss Leigh snorted, but the sparkle of pleasure illuminated her eyes. “It is not the time for vanity.”
“Of course not.” Helen cast her gaze humbly to the ground. “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”
Miss Leigh did not reply. She rubbed her forehead wearily with one heavily veined hand and turned her back, waiting for Helen to unfasten her day gown.
As Helen eased the folds of black velvet over Miss Leigh’s head, she had a sudden inspiration. Excitement trembled through her. She just had to appear calm and await precisely the right moment.
“A strand of jet would be just the thing, Miss Leigh. It would be beautifully framed by the Belgian lace of your bodice.” Helen clasped her hands together to hide her nerves.
“Jet? Jewelry at a time like this is inappropriate.”
Helen's heart sank as Miss Leigh studied her appearance in the mirror. She stood behind her, carefully keeping her gaze fixed demurely on the back of Miss Leigh's dress.
“However,” Miss Leigh said. “Jet is allowable in mourning.”
“Permit me.” Helen opened the drawer and delicately searched through the contents, her heart pounding. She extracted the jet necklace and then cast a final glance into the drawer. She frowned in concentrated puzzlement. “Is something not missing?”
“Missing?” Miss Leigh's voice sharpened. She pushed Helen aside and clawed through the drawer. “What do you mean?”
“That necklace I found — the one a guest lost. Did you not put it in this drawer?”
“Yes!” She searched the drawer again. Then she did precisely as Helen had done and pulled the drawer out and threw the contents onto her bed. “It is gone!”
“Could one of your sisters have borrowed it? Perhaps for the evening?”
“Of course not! Do not be a ninny-hammer, girl. The house is in mourning. No one would wear colored jewels at a time like this and certainly not Esther or Elvira. Someone must have stolen it — we must report this immediately.”
“Yes, Miss Leigh,” Helen replied, thankful she had successfully diverted attention away from herself. She might even get assistance to find the accursed necklace now.
“Inform your brother. He likes to investigate matters that are none of his concern. Let him investigate this.”
“Hugh?” Helen stared at her, startled. “Yes, Miss Leigh.”
“And that reminds me, what were you doing, going through my wardrobe? A cap and jacket that belonged to me are now in your brother's hands. I have a good mind to dismiss you without a reference for interfering in matters that are of no concern to you.”
“The clothes were damp, Miss Leigh, and growing mould.” Helen eyed her employer with trepidation. “I feared they would ruin the other dresses stored in your wardrobe, or worse, make you ill. I'm sorry, I never meant —”
“He thinks I murdered my nephews because of you!”
“I never — surely he cannot think that!”
“Some man in a blue jacket and cap was seen near the Twilight before the earl took her out. They think I sabotaged the vessel.”
“Oh, no, you must be mistaken. Let me talk to him. There must be dozens of folk with blue jackets and woolen caps. He cannot be so foolish as to suspect you.”
Miss Leigh studied her with a strange, cynical light in her eyes. “There was no love lost between the earl and me. It was well known we argued. Your brother has heard the rumors, and the earl's damn lawyer is using him to investigate. And now they will point to that jacket and cap, and I will be to blame.”
Helen caught Miss Leigh's hands. The fragile skin and bones felt brittle and dry within Helen's grasp. She rubbed them with her thumbs. “No. Let me talk to him. It is all a dreadful misunderstanding. Everyone knows you wouldn't — couldn't — do such a thing.”
“That is where you are wrong. I am perfectly capable of sabotaging a boat if I wished. Everyone will find out soon enough that I used to sail in my younger days. I've taken the Twilight out myself on several occasions with my nephew Lionel as second mate. And once they know that ….” Her voice broke and her hands tightened on Helen's in a sudden spasm of emotion. The muscles in her neck worked violently as she attempted to control the rush of emotion. “I could have done it.” Her dark, shadowed eyes stared into Helen's with a look of desperate appeal. “But I did not.”
“I believe you, Miss Leigh. Please let me speak to my brother. He will understand. Truly, he will.”
Plagued by worry, Helen watched Miss Leigh turn and walk out. The older woman's shoulders slumped and her feet dragged, showing every day of her age. Helen should n0t have added the burden of the stolen jewels to Miss Leigh's already heavy load, just to escape from suspicion. And to make matters worse, Helen was responsible for Hugh’s belief that Miss Leigh had murdered her nephews.
More and more, Helen felt her actions were irresponsible. She had caused nothing but trouble, and now there was every possibility that Miss Leigh would suffer dearly for Helen's mistakes.
With the household at dinner, Helen hurried down the servants' stairs. She found Mrs. Adams in the kitchen, coordinating the succession of servants carrying the dishes for the main course up to the dining room.
Edward stood at the cook's elbow, intently staring into a bubbling pot. The cook said something and then placed massive wooden spoon in Edward's grip. She stood back and nodded to the lad, watching him stir the pot. Edward's face glowed with pride.
When he glanced up, Helen winked at him. His grin widened before he went back to his task.
“Mrs. Adams,” Helen said, weaving her way through the servants. “I've just come from Miss Leigh. Someone has stolen that necklace I found.”
“When?”
“I don't know —”
“None of the servants, I'll warrant. There's no one new except you lot.” Mrs. Adams frowned and made an impatient gesture to one of the footman fumbling over a platter of mutton dressed with mint leaves. “We'll have to search the household. To make sure.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“After dinner, then. All the servants will be here. You will stay with them to ensure no one leaves. Mr. Symes and I will search. If the jewels are here, we will find them.”
“You can't search the entire house —”
“We will, and we will find them. There weren't so many as knew about the necklace. If we need help, we shall know who to ask.”
Chilled at the sureness in the housekeeper’s voice, Helen agreed meekly. Helen knew she would not be on the list of those trusted enough to assist.
When Mrs. Adams went back to her task with a sharp command to another hapless footman, Helen wandered over to the stove.
“Are you learning to cook, Ned?” she asked.
“Yes. All sailors know how, leastways, that's what Cook says,” Edward cast a respectful glance over his shoulder at the cook.
Cook grinned and crossed her thick arms over her round belly. “Mind your business, lad.”
“What were you talking to old prune-face for,” Edward asked, curiosity livening his face.
“The necklace is gone,” Helen whispered. She smiled at the cook and raised a brow to indicate she was merely discussing a private, family matter. “They are going to search for it after servants' dinner.”
“Oh,” Edward replied in a pecul
iar, off-hand voice. He stared at the pot.
She studied him, aware of some oddity in his expression. When she could not identify it, she gave him a hug. “Do not worry about it. I just wish we had fewer complications and more successes.”
“So do I,” Edward agreed heartily. “And I hope I'm not burning this sauce!”
Cook grabbed the spoon and shouldered the two of them away from her stove. After a cautious taste, she smiled and thrust the utensil back into Edward's hand.
“'Tain't burnt yet. Just tell your sister to be gone about her business, and you concentrate on the task at hand or the sauce'll be ruined, for sure.”
Helen laughed and stepped away, thinking of Hugh. She had to convince him of Miss Leigh's innocence.
And perhaps he would have the answer to some of their own problems, too.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“ … do nothing in your master’s house that you feel obliged to conceal ….” —The Complete Servant
Edward listened to Miss Helen as he stirred the sauce and tried to pretend he did not have a care in the world. He must have succeeded, because she smiled and gave him a hug, although his heart was floundering around in his boots like a dying mackerel.
They’re going to search the house for the necklace! He had to hide it. Now.
After Miss Helen left, Edward coughed and pretended to gag, right over the pot.
As he hoped, the cook pulled him away. “Here now, no getting sick. If you feel ill, go back to your room.”
“But I ….” he protested, hoping it would lend veracity to his claim of illness. A brave lad would not just cower and run away, he would fight to the bitter end.
“Now, lad. No place for bravery here. Get out and take your cough with you.” She batted Edward away from the huge stove. “If you want to learn that bad, come back tomorrow morning. I'll teach you to make scrambled eggs so light the clouds will envy them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Edward turned away with pretended reluctance. He dragged his feet across the flagstone floor as he wandered back through the door to the servants' quarters.
Once he was out of sight of the staff scurrying to and from the kitchen, he ran. There was no time to lose. The family ate supper at eight and the servants an hour later, at nine. He had to hide the jewels and be back for dinner if he was not to bring suspicion down around his ears.
Thieves weren't welcomed aboard ships, no matter how good their intentions. Ormsby was no different.
The necklace was stuffed into a corner of his pillow as there was nowhere else to hide it. The bed was a thin straw mattress suspended by a web of knotted ropes, and his rickety chest of drawers offered no secret compartments at all. The paucity of hiding places disgusted him. Any self-respecting castle like Ormsby should be absolutely riddled with hidden panels, secret compartments and mysterious rooms. As far as he could tell, there was not a single one.
Shoving the necklace into his pocket, he ran out of his room and into the narrow hallway.
Where to go?
He could not put it anywhere in the house. They were bound to find it. Edward's first thought for a hiding place was the maze. He dashed outside, but at the shadowy entrance, he hesitated. The crow-witches had found their way to the center and back again, so it could not be a very good maze.
The abbey.
The tumbled stones would protect it better than any vault. And he could get there and back in plenty of time for dinner.
No one would ever miss him.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“ … that is a crime which seldom goes unpunished.” —The Complete Servant
“The necklace is no longer in the house,” Mrs. Adams said to Helen after she dismissed the servants, having held them in their dining room for nearly three hours.
Her eyes followed the line of whispering footmen and maids as they shuffled out, casting furtive glances at her over their shoulders. Mrs. Adams had not explained why they had been held there until well after midnight, just as no-one explained why they were now free to leave.
Mrs. Adams felt ignorance was a virtue. And despite the fact that Helen disagreed with almost every view held by Mrs. Adams, in this particular case, she agreed. The fewer who knew about the necklace, the better.
Helen managed to sit near her brother at dinner, but Ned did not make an appearance. While Mrs. Adams and Mr. Symes searched the house, Helen pulled Hugh aside. The other servants around them either stayed at the table, making good use of their time by cleaning the plates of any remains from their dinner, or gathered into small groups to whisper.
“Miss Leigh said you accused her of murdering her nephews,” Helen said as softly as she could. “How could you do such a thing? Surely it was not simply because of those nasty clothes I found in her wardrobe?”
“Someone wearing a blue jacket and knitted cap was seen at the dock before we — before the Twilight went to sea. The ship was sabotaged. The rudder and mast were sawn almost completely through, and the storm took care of the rest. It rained the previous day and night. The cap and jacket were wet.”
“She did not hate her nephews. She would never do such a thing,” Helen protested vehemently. “You don't know her. Miss Leigh is just a sad, ill woman. Even you must see that.” She gripped his wrist. “And I am terribly worried about her health.”
“I don't want to hurt her if she's innocent. But the evidence speaks for itself.”
“Then maybe you are deaf.”
His slow grin made her stomach flutter. “I am a fair man and my, uh, associate is still looking into matters. If he finds evidence to the contrary, I will be happy to believe in Miss Leigh's innocence.”
“Perhaps you ought to start from that belief.”
“Let it not be said that I cannot listen to advice. For the time being, I will suspend judgment. We will await more information from Mr. Gaunt.”
“I cannot ask for more, I suppose.” She glanced around again. “Have you seen Ned? He is never one to miss dinner.”
Hugh laughed. “Cook said Ned did not feel well. He went to his room.” He glanced at the rapidly emptying table. “And if you wish to put together a tray for him, you'd best hurry.” He reached around her and snagged the last warm, yeasty roll as a maid picked up the basket.
Relieved at his agreement to allow Miss Leigh the benefit of the doubt, Helen picked up her napkin. Hugh handed her the roll he had saved, and she collected several slices of mutton, some pickles and a few slices of cheese before all the food was gone. A few of the footmen gave her black looks, but she simply smiled prettily back, comforted by Hugh's presence at her shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“ … they will wisely take advantage of the opportunity which Providence fortunately presents to them ….” —The Complete Servant
Stepping through the shadow-filled ruin, Edward eyed the tumble-down walls of the central building. He had to hide the jewels where he could find them again, but where no one else would. The pointed, stone arch of the wide doorway still stood, beckoning him to enter. The left wall was just a jumble of huge blocks, but the right-hand and rear walls rose towards the darkening sky. The night sky served as the roof.
Perhaps the almost complete building which jutted out on his right protected the wall on that side of the structure, so it had not crumbled like the others. The smaller structure was also missing its roof, but at least it still had four walls. Above that, a crooked tower rose, clinging to the remnants of a second and third floor. There was no easy entrance, however, to that section of the ruins. He wandered through the archway and stood, glancing around. Vines grew out of cracks in the stone floor under his feet. They twined up round the arch while clumps of coarse grass sprouted between the slate slabs. Despite the attractive jumble of stones with an abundance of crannies, he felt unsatisfied. Too obvious.
Then he caught sight of a dark rectangle halfway along the remaining wall. His heart beat faster with excitement — perhaps it was a doorway to the mysterious side-build
ing he had yet to explore. There might even be a secret room. Failing that, there was the chunky tower. No one would dare to search there.
He clambered over the uneven, broken floor, glancing up every few feet to orient himself.
As he got closer, he thought his heart would burst with anticipation. He was right, it was a door. A thick wooden door, leaning drunkenly ajar. Only the bottom hinge remained and a few heavy blocks, carved with a design oddly similar to the vines growing over them, rested against the base. The sight brought him to a nervous halt. He eyed them, conscious of a flicker of fear. In the dim light, the pitted, rounded surface was shaped like the snout of some hideous monster, crouched against the door, waiting for the unaware.
Anything could hide amongst the twining vines.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sky. A band of flaming red and yellow marked the horizon. It would be completely dark soon. The rock monster seemed to stir within its nest of leaves as a band of dark blue clouds passed over the red horizon.
Red clouds at night, sailor's delight.
The color of the sky was good luck, and there were no monsters waiting for him in the darkness. Even if there were, the necklace would be extra safe with them protecting it. He just had to hide it and escape before the sun went down completely.
He could run faster than any stone monster.
Fixing his eyes firmly on the door, he studied it, determined to ignore whatever hid in the jumble of shadows against the wall. If you do not act afraid, nothing will bother you. He could not remember who had given him the advice, but it sounded excellent now. The wooden panels inset in the door were already rotten, but even so, he could see it was still at least three inches thick. His confidence faltered.
The leaves around the stone monster stirred in a faint breeze — or he hoped it was just the wind.
He pushed at the door. It would not budge. Then he caught sight of the rusty hinges. Puddinghead. It opened towards him, and the rocks held it fast in its frame. He kicked it sharply, but the wood held firm. The door’s annoying refusal to yield heightened his determination to break into the room beyond it and climb the tower. Glancing around, he found a sharp-edged rock that fitted comfortably in his hands.
