by M. J. Haag
“I’m sure this will be fine,” Kellen said. “Better someone who knows Anne and won’t be put out when she returns.”
“Of course. And I’m so relieved I don’t need to leave the two of you alone. I really must be off to speak with Mrs. Tiller. I feel terribly that she’s already awake, thinking of her daughter,” she waved at us again and hurried out the door, past Anne’s cousin who was returning with her things.
Kellen discreetly bolted the door as soon as the woman was inside.
“Allow me to show you to your sleeping quarters and give you a tour of the kitchen,” I said.
Less than an hour later, Kellen and I sat at the table eating the fruits of Sabine’s labors.
“Is it all right?” she asked nervously.
“The best hot oats I’ve tasted,” I assured her, taking another enthusiastic bite.
“I never knew toasting them could change the flavor so enjoyably,” Kellen said.
The hot oats were truly good as was Sabine’s company.
“I’m so grateful I could help. I was just released from the House of Cresstol.” She sighed deeply. “My year was up. The mistress said she would give reference to any who asked, if Lady Grimmoire needs one.”
“I think this is reference enough,” I said, nodding toward my bowl.
“Do you think this position might be permanent once Anne returns?”
Kellen and I shared a subtle glance.
“It might be,” Kellen said softly.
Sabine beamed.
“Mrs. Tiller had been vague about how long Anne would be gone, but I would happily fill in for Anne no matter the duration. Not that I’m hinting I want her position. I wouldn’t do that to Anne.”
“Of course not,” Kellen agreed.
“Once you’re finished, leave the dishes on the block. I’m going to go fetch some fresh linens for the beds.”
She hurried from the room, already comfortable with our home’s layout.
Kellen turned to me.
“Well? What happened last night? Do we know who’s responsible?”
“I only know the boy’s name. Tommy Bell. He lives on the southwest outskirts of town near a stable called the Whistling Steed.”
“Sounds more like a name for an alehouse.”
I flashed her a quick grin.
“I’d thought the same. Perhaps it would have been easier to find in the dark then. As it was, I had to give up and return home without speaking to our dear Tommy Bell. However, the boy who gave me his name said that Tommy claimed to be a secret messenger of the King but no one believed him.”
“Not much of a secret if the boy is going around telling everyone.”
“Very true. But that’s not the oddest part of the evening,” I said, carrying my bowl to the block.
“Oh?” she asked following me with hers.
“Kaven knocked me off my horse on my return home. I thought it would be the end of me.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.” I frowned and recalled our encounter. “After the initial fall, he seemed concerned, if still a little rude. He offered to help me up and called me prickly when I refused to believe he was actually kind. Then he plucked me off my feet and plopped me on my horse. I believe he truly intended to send me home mostly unscathed with only a few bruises.”
Kellen’s expression grew contemplative and distant as it often did when she needed to work something out. While she thought through the events, I led the way to the sitting room.
From above, I could hear the sound of Sabine’s soft humming as she changed the linens. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that simple normality.
“It makes no sense,” Kellen said sitting in her chair. “Why knock you off the horse and then help you up? Why take Anne and Judith and not you?”
“My thoughts exactly. I can only suppose I was not the intended target. But why Mother and not us?”
She made a noncommittal sound and stared out the window.
“Even if you were not the intended target last night, if you were to ever be an intended target, why treat you cordially?”
Why indeed? Unless I never was the intended target. Or, perhaps, he wasn’t the one to blame for Mother, Judith, and Anne. My heart stumbled at the possibility of his innocence then beat rapidly in hope.
“When I found Anne’s cap by Mother’s grave, I’d been so certain it was him that I damaged his testicles. Quite severely, given the sounds he made. That encounter alone makes his restraint in retribution last night even more curious.”
“His testicles?” she said, looking at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. He gave me no choice. It was his testicles or my life.”
“Of course, I’m only surprised you still have your life. Doubly so now.”
“Exactly my thoughts.”
She absently picked up her book from the side table and opened it.
“This whole situation is nonsensical,” she said. “Why take two maids and not you? Although we find value in Anne and Judith, you and I both know the majority of the world does not find value in those of lesser status. Even you and I only have as much value as where we live and whatever remains of Father's estate.”
“Perhaps that's why I was let go,” I said. “Perhaps there was an assumed value to my existence. Or, perhaps,” I said, giving voice to what Kellen had said all along, “Kaven is not responsible for what has transpired. But if not him, then who?”
“As you’ve pointed out repeatedly, no one else makes sense. All clues point back to Kaven. One kind act, which is out of character from all the other encounters, shouldn’t so heavily sway us.”
“You’re right,” I said. It was foolish to think his offered hand meant something more than a distraction.
“This will take some consideration,” Kellen said.
“I agree. However, I hope it doesn't take us too long to determine his motivations. I worry for Sabine.”
“The door is barred, and she’s inside with us. For now, she’s safe.”
I sat in my chair and picked up my book as well. However, I struggled to read the words on the page. For, as much as I wanted to escape the reality of my circumstances, my mind continued to dwell on the problem of not only who killed my mother but how long it would be before someone else went missing?
The sound of the entry door opening almost pulled my attention from the story. Although it had taken me a while to finally succumb to the melodic words of the author, I was now fully enraptured in the heroine’s plight.
“Where are they?” I heard Maeve ask.
“In the sitting room, my lady.”
The click of heels echoed in the hall, a note of agitation in the rhythm. It was that unusual sound that finally pulled me from the story and had me looking up. Kellen did the same.
Maeve entered looking weary and anxious.
“We had a bit of a delay leaving this morning. The horse had a stone lodged in its shoe. I must ask, did either of you take the horse last night?”
Kellen and I both wore twin expressions of surprise. Neither were faked.
“While I imagine that would be quite an adventure,” Kellen said, “we both know it’s not safe to venture out. Day or night. I much prefer my adventures to occur on the pages of my book. I fear my life is already too unpredictable for more.”
“I quite agree,” I said. “But it does bring to mind that I have been neglecting the animals. I haven't taken the pig for a walk in days.” I closed my book. “I should probably correct that.”
Maeve's gaze searched both of our faces. Her expression of upset faded to one of indulgence.
“You relieve me greatly,” she said. “I don't know what I would do if one of you two disappeared in the middle of the night. If the pig needs a walk, it might be best to send Hugh.”
I stood and walked to Maeve, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze.
“It's not just the pig who needs a walk; I’m a bit restless wit
h all of this time indoors. And, I don't mind walking him around the yard,” I added quickly.
Any lingering doubt about us taking the horse last night seemed to vanish with my words.
“Of course. I’m sorry if I sounded accusing. Hugh swore he checked the mare before putting her up for the night.”
I released her hand and hugged myself.
“He’s not been himself with everything that’s happening,” I said, hating that I was diverting blame. “Perhaps he only overlooked it.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s good that Sabine is here now. Is she settled in? I was so worried about the pair of you that I didn’t ask.”
“Yes, we gave her a tour of the house. However, I put off showing her the grounds. Now that you’ve returned, perhaps I could take her with me when I walk the pig.”
“A splendid idea. While you do that, I think I might go lay down for a bit.”
“Did it go poorly with Mrs. Tiller?” Kellen asked.
“The dear woman was quite surprised to see me this morning but very understanding when I explained what’s been happening here and our request for her discretion. This whole ordeal is more taxing than I had imagined it would be.”
Guilt nibbled at my conscience.
“We’re sorry that we’ve burdened you,” Kellen said.
“Nonsense. You’re both a joy. It’s everyone else who is the burden,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “I'll see you two at dinner.”
She left the room, her steps slower than normal.
“I don't envy her that talk with Mrs. Tiller,” I said softly.
“Neither do I. I'm guessing it didn't go as well as Maeve would like us to believe.”
“I agree.” I glanced at Kellen, who was vacantly gazing out the window once more. “Did you want to come outside with me?”
She shook her head. “My mind is busy. It's best I sit inside with my book.”
I knew what she meant. She was still thinking over the problem of Kaven and his odd behavior. I knew that she, like me, was starting to doubt his guilt. But was it all just part of his ploy?
I went into the kitchen in search of Sabine and found her already preparing our evening meal.
“Would you like a tour of the yard?” I asked. “We have a few animals that I care for. The chickens are lovely for the fresh eggs. I usually put them there.” I indicated the wooden bowl resting on the block. “We also have a pig that I'm caring for on behalf of someone else. He's not for eating.”
Sabine smiled.
“That is a good thing because I don't know how to butcher a pig. However, I'm quite adept at pastries.”
“I love pastries. There's a patch of—never mind. I can see you're busy.” She wasn’t that busy. However, I did not intend to tell her about the very berry patch where Judith disappeared.
Sabine wiped her hands on her apron.
“I'm never too busy to learn something new about the estate. I would love to accompany you. Let me just pull this off the fire so it doesn't scald.”
She moved a simmering pot from the flames and grabbed her cloak.
Outside, I showed her the chickens first then the pig pen. The pig wasn’t rooting about, which I found odd. And I realized I hadn’t fed him yet that morning.
“Pig,” I called, opening the gate. “It’s time for a walk.”
I heard a shuffling sound from the shelter at the back of the pen. Taking care where I stepped and lifting my skirts to avoid the muck, I approached his dwelling.
“Come now, pig. You know you must walk.”
When I ducked down to peer in, an ear-splitting squeal rent the air at the same time the pig came flying at me. I just barely straightened in time to avoid being trampled. The large creature darted for the gate at full speed. I didn’t know what he intended, since I’d closed it behind me. He seemed to notice it was closed at the last moment and came to a thunderous stop.
His sides heaved as he spun around looking for another avenue of escape.
“Miss Eloise, perhaps you should climb the fence,” Sabine called.
I didn’t move, keeping my attention on the pig. I’d never seen him act so crazed before.
“Are you hurt, Mr. Pig?” I asked softly. “Do you need tending?” I held out my hand. “You know I won’t hurt you. Come now. Let’s have a look at you.”
The pig shook his ears and let out a series of squeals and grunts before trotting toward me. While I did my best to remain outwardly calm, I prepared myself to scramble over the fence if the pig decided it no longer wanted to be docile.
Slowing a few feet from me, the pig bumped his head against my hand.
“There now,” I said softly, looking him over and seeing nothing amiss. “Did I startle you out of a nap?”
The pig seemed to calm, and I walked over to the sheltered rack where I kept his tether.
“Should we walk?” I asked.
The pig grunted and seemed his normal self once again.
“He normally doesn’t act like that,” I said, trying to assure Sabine who watched the pig with doubt. “He’s quite tame and enjoys his walks. Usually I take him in the woods, but for today, we’ll keep him to the yard.”
“That’s a sound idea. I think it would be best if I returned to the kitchen.” I didn’t try to stop her retreat. Pigs weren’t for everyone.
My portly companion and I walked around the yard once then down the driveway. I would have turned there to come back, but the pig caught the scent of something and started up the road toward the retreat. He didn’t go far before veering off the path to a thicket of bramble on the side.
“You have a knack for intruding,” a voice said.
I jumped and the pig squealed, almost jarring my arm from its socket before he tore his tether out of my grasp. Thankfully the pig didn’t go far, only just behind me as if using me as a shield. I looked from the pig to Kaven.
“It looks like you startled your brother,” I said to the man.
Kaven snorted.
“Even the sounds you make are similar,” I added.
“A bee’s sting is much kinder than your sharp words,” Kaven replied with a scowl.
I shrugged.
“If you don’t like my reaction, perhaps you should stop jumping out at me.”
“Fair enough. I was hoping I would see you today.” There was something in his tone—Menace? Annoyance?—that had me retreating a step.
“I think I need to return,” I said.
“Stay.” The command was followed by a sudden hand around my arm.
I stared up at Kaven, wondering how he’d gotten so close so fast. With barely a thought, I fisted my hand to strike out. He caught my intended jab with ease, his fingers closing over my own.
“I have never met a woman as violent as you. Was your mother like this?”
“Do not speak of my mother,” I hissed before trying to stomp on his foot.
He deftly moved out of my way.
“I’m learning your tricks,” he said with a smirk. “What will you do now, my little wasp? You’ve nothing left but words.”
“Pig,” I said, “if ever you were to repay my care of you, now would be the time.”
“Are you speaking to—”
Both of our eyes widened as the pig let out a crazed squeal and knocked into me. I flew into Kaven, sending us both to the ground. Kaven grunted at the double impact of his back hitting the ground and me landing on top of him.
I scrambled off of him with all haste, accidentally clipping his manhood this time.
“Sorry,” I said even as I scooped up the pig’s tether and sprinted for the house.
The pig kept up with me every step of the way. When we reached the pen, I scratched his ear.
“You’re a very fine friend,” I said. “Thank you.”
The pig grunted as I closed the pen, and I pretended not to notice the way his too human gaze followed me.
Chapter Thirteen
Kellen was missing from the sitting roo
m when I returned. Rather than seek her out, I went to the kitchen to check on Sabine. I spent the rest of the day listening to idle stories about Sabine’s prior employers and the life of gentry in general. Hearing their common disregard for those they employed helped ease some of my guilt that Sabine was staying with us. Surely, with Kellen and I both watching her, she would be safe.
When dinner was ready, I went to wake Maeve. It felt odd to knock softly on her door and hear a voice other than Mother’s.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” I said through the panel. “Dinner is ready.”
“I’ll be right there,” Maeve called. “Thank you for waking me.”
Leaving her door, I checked our room for Kellen. Her book was lying open on her bed but Kellen was absent. Panic squeezed my chest. I whirled to tell Maeve and almost ran into my sister.
“Curse you, Kellen,” I said irritably for the twofold scare she’d given me.
Her lips twitched.
“Were you looking for me?”
“You know I was. Dinner is ready.”
“So I heard.”
I moved toward the stairs, my annoyance clinging to me. Kellen reached out and clasped my hand.
“It wasn’t intentional. This time,” she said.
Her lingering humor and honest admission broke through my irritation.
“I hope someday you meet someone as in love with tricks as you are. Then you’ll understand how unpleasant they can be.”
“If they’re so unpleasant, why do you always laugh?”
I grinned and shook my head. I never could stay mad at Kellen for long.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“In the attic.”
“Did you finish your book already?” I asked as we reached the bottom step.
A scrape of noise above us had me turning to smile at Maeve.
“If you’ve finished, we can go to town tomorrow to fetch more,” Maeve said.
“I haven’t finished. It only reached a part that didn’t sit well with me, so the book and I needed to part company for a while.”
I chuckled.
In the dining room, Sabine had the table set and waiting. She lifted the cover from a bowl to reveal a light spring soup and removed a towel sheltering a basket of fluffy biscuits.
