“Yes, I know the place. Liam B Rains. Of course. The ‘R’ is a capital. I should have realized.” She rummaged through the box of invoices again and came up with another bill. She counted out the relevant amount of money and added it to her growing arrangement of coins. She closed the account book and peered down into her cash box. There had been just enough to pay everyone, but she would need to ask Asher to withdraw some more from the bank for any incidentals.
It now only remained for her to see that everyone received their money. She looked expectantly at the housekeeper.
“How does my father usually pay these people? Does he ride round the town and give them the money?” She still wasn’t used to using the past tense when referring to the man. How could she when if there hadn’t been a body lying in state in his bedroom, she would have thought the whole matter to be part of an over imaginative mind.
Mrs. Grenfell drew in a sharp breath.
“Certainly not! The invoices are paid via the bank or when the relevant recipient comes to the house on the last day of the month. Which happens to be today, but I am not sure anyone will call after hearing the news of your father’s tragic demise. It would seem highly inappropriate, especially as the new earl is not in residence. Perhaps I can ask Flack to take the carriage and distribute the payments if you so desire. Not that these people would be worried if the money was late by a few days. They would understand that under the circumstances...”
Madeleine waved her down.
“No, the payments will be made on time. I don’t want anyone to think that the household has fallen apart. It wouldn’t be fair on my husband. Is Mr. Flack up and about yet?”
Mrs. Grenfell pursed her lips.
“Phillips has let him borrow one of your father’s walking sticks and the man moaning fit to drive me mad, but yes, he will certainly be able to manage handing some coins out of a carriage window. At least doing that will get him out of the house and from beneath my feet. It’s not as if I don’t have enough to do with organizing the maids. I am beginning to wonder why we employed Gertrude. Spends half her time sleeping and the other half trying to avoid work.”
Madeleine was about to pick up her teacup and take another sip when she remembered the taste of the first and thought better of it.
“We needed another maid. The house is far too large for our present contingent of staff. It took months for me to persuade father to take on anyone new and there was not the choice I thought there would be. However, Gertrude came with good references. Perhaps I need to talk to her about what is expected of her before I ask his Lordship to add to the estate expenses by employing more staff. I’ll see how she manages cleaning in here and then decide what to do.”
The housekeeper nodded.
“Very well, my Lady. I will leave it to you.”
Madeleine pulled open another desk drawer and took out some paper squares. She began folding them and sealing the amounts of money inside.
“I’ll have to ask Flack to make sure everyone signs a receipt, but overall I am making good progress. I don’t wish my new husband to think I am going to be a burden to him.”
Mrs Grenfell huffed.
“As if that were possible! He took one look at you and turned into a besotted fool! But it is a shame that he had to leave so soon again after you were wed. When does he return?” The housekeeper walked about the room, touching one or two items on the mantelpiece and rearranging them slightly.
Madeleine didn’t answer. The silence continued until the housekeeper suddenly seemed to realize she was being observed. Her hand fell to her side as she stared expectantly at the lady of the house.
Madeleine found she couldn’t hold the woman’s gaze.
“He will be back in time for the funeral, that’s all he could say, so not long. Unfortunately he hadn’t made any alternative arrangements for his business. My father’s death has been as much of a shock to him as it has been to us.” She tried to sound as though Asher’s rapid departure meant nothing, was a completely normal event. For all Madeleine knew it might be. He had spoken about spending much of his time in London. He was only being true to his word. She barely knew the man. His being there or not didn’t mean anything to her.
She gathered the sealed envelopes and put them and the cash box back into the desk drawer. She turned the key and tucked it into her pocket. Mrs. Grenfell suddenly frowned as she looked past Madeleine’s shoulder.
“Good heavens! The state of the cobwebs in here. I must see that Gertrude cleans everywhere thoroughly before the new master sees it. And smells it! So stuffy and dusty. It’s a wonder that your father could bear it.”
Madeleine glanced about the place and sniffed the musty air. She hadn’t noticed the heaviness before, but now that Mrs. Grenfell had mentioned it, there was a definite smell of something... like withering mushrooms. Odd given that the window sat open. She reached forwards over the desk and picked up her father’s box of cigars. She opened it and bent her head to sniff the contents before crinkling her nose and closing the lid quickly again. She wafted her hand in front of her face.
“I’ll get rid of these, but I confess that I was so used to his habits that I hadn’t noticed how bad they had become. My father had become so stubborn in his ways. It seemed easier to let him get on with it than to argue, but not allowing anyone to clean for him in here was a little extreme.” As if to prove the point, Madeleine suddenly sneezed. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose before speaking again. “But I want to clear my father’s personal things before anyone comes to do anything. If you would ask someone to find some boxes for me, I’ll have everything taken to my room to be sorted later. That will give Gertrude free reign to clean in here before his Lordship returns.”
Mrs. Grenfell nodded.
“Yes, of course, my Lady, though I am happy to help if you need assistance. It won’t be an easy task for you.”
Thoughts swirled through Madeleine’s mind at the woman’s offer, but she knew she would prefer to do this alone.
“True, and I thank you for your kindness, but I think it will be therapeutic to spend an hour or two doing this alone. It won’t take long once I begin.”
The housekeeper frowned but didn’t argue. She glanced at the open window again.
“If you insist, but you should close that window. I am not sure how I feel about the earl leaving you when there is still a murderer at large. I swear that I heard footsteps twice in the night and I confess that I jumped out of my bed and actually swung my lamp at Eros just before dawn. Little devil sneaked into my room somehow and jumped on my bed. I nearly died of fright before I realized that my attacker was small, furry, and purred instead of issuing dire threats. I swear I won’t feel safe until Thomas Leyman is behind bars.”
Though not fearing any attack from her stable master, Madeleine knew how the woman felt. She had barely closed her eyes during the last two nights. The first night had been excruciatingly embarrassing. After her tears of joy at her new husband’s generosity over the locket, she had assumed that he would join her for dinner where she could express her thanks while she wore the precious necklace, but he had asked for his meal to be sent to his room and hadn’t enquired as to her whereabouts or eating arrangements.
Not that she cared. He could eat where he liked, but a table for one turned out to be a cold companion. Her cutlery had clattered on her plate as the food became stuck in her throat. Mrs. Grenfell had muttered something about ‘fading away’ and the ‘rudeness of men’ as she took the barely touched plate of chops away. Things became worse after receiving a note from Asher stating that he had to leave Claiborne sooner than expected if he were to be back in time for the funeral. He would be gone before dawn. A sensation Madeleine had never experienced before rolled through her as she read the words. Could it be disappointment?
She had lain awake most of the night listening to the sounds of the house. Creaking that she had never taken notice of before now made her jump. Had she heard a door
open and then close? She lay stiffly in her bed, listening hard. Was there a servant still about? Mr. Phillips was a notoriously bad sleeper. Perhaps he was going on one of his nightly trips to the library for a new book... Or the butler’s pantry for another bottle of brandy.
The sounds of footsteps had caused her to pull the sheets tight to her chin and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door as she wished that Asher Derwent still remained in the house, strong, kind, and sure. It seemed that she had barely closed her eyes before there was a brisk knock and Gertrude standing beside her bed with a breakfast tray in her hands.
After dressing and taking a nibble of toasted crumpet, Madeleine had gone to her father’s bedroom and sat with his newly cleaned and dressed body for the entire following day, talking to him, telling him things she wished she had said while he was alive, pouring her heart out as she asked unanswerable questions.
And she had eaten dinner alone for a second evening, silently thinking while she listened to her cutlery scraping over the china and giving up before any of the courses were half eaten.
Now she glanced about the study again. There was no evidence of her father dying there though she had seen his body with her own eyes. Perhaps she should feel more uneasy sitting in his chair, but she didn’t. She felt comforted knowing that he had sat there so many times before. She looked at Mrs. Grenfell. Was the housekeeper standing in the same position as her father’s murderer? Could the woman reach out a hand, grab a paperknife, and thrust it into her chest. Was the murderer one of her own staff? She shuddered. Perhaps it was as well that Asher would not be gone more than another day.
“Please don’t worry, Mrs. Grenfell. His Lordship will return soon. I don’t expect him to be later than tomorrow evening. Perhaps I might see cook to discuss dinner before then.” Why she had a sudden interest in the meal, she couldn’t rightly say. Domesticity wasn’t one of her usual pursuits. But then neither was doing the household accounts. So much had changed in so short a time.
Mrs. Grenfell looked at Madeleine’s still full teacup. The beverage had clearly gone cold. A layer of stained milk floated on the surface. She picked it up and pressed her lips together as she put it back on the tray.
“Very well, my Lady, I’ll make sure she knows and I will bring you fresh tea there. You must have something. You need to keep your strength up.”
Though this was the first time anyone had said it to her, Madeleine smiled as she recalled Asher’s words.
“Yes, I do, but I am perfectly fine for the moment. Now, I must ask you to leave while I carry on. I have to finish my work here before seeing cook, and I still have to think about the menus.”
The older woman picked up the tea tray.
“Of course, my Lady, though I know cook has already asked two of the lads to go fishing for trout. She is keen to do a smoked fish entree.”
Madeleine heard her own stomach rumble. She had barely eaten again that morning, but now she could admit to feeling slightly lightheaded. For a moment she thought the room might begin to spin but she blinked the odd sensation away.
“It sounds delicious, but I would still like to discuss things with her even so. Perhaps just after luncheon?”
Clearing her father’s personal effects took longer than Madeleine had imagined and the clock had struck one long before she had finished. His desk drawers were stuffed full of knick-knacks. Old watch cases, cigar ends, a pipe she had never seen him use, parts of what she imagined were at one time a clock, broken pen nibs, shirt studs, a fold of paper containing a curl of hair – apparently a first clipping from her own head if the note on the paper was to be believed. There were newspaper cuttings, small glass bottles, smelling salts, and any number of other things.
She left the books in a small bookcase – Most were about farming or horse management and she had no idea how experienced Ash was in either. He could decide whether he wanted to keep them or have them moved to the library. She left the picture of her mother hanging on the wall. If she were going to be working in there, she didn’t see why it couldn’t remain. If her new husband had serious issues with it, she would have it removed to her bed chamber at a later date.
The clock struck two in the afternoon and Madeleine pressed her hands to the small of her back as she stretched her spine. She took a look at the filled boxes and decided that she had done enough for one day, besides which she was already running late. She had only a few minutes to wash her dusty hands before her appointment with the cook.
She shut the last drawer of the dresser and looked around the study wondering if Ash would want the drinks cabinet left there or put elsewhere. If the men she knew were anything to go by, he would want it to remain.
A knock at the door startled her. Gertrude came in laden with brushes and cloths.
“Mrs. Grenfell said I was to clean the study from top to bottom, my Lady.” She put the cloths on the hearth and stood with her hands on her hips as she looked around at the dust and cobwebs.
Madeleine gave a short nod.
“Please. I have boxed up most of what I need to, but you are still going to have to work around a lot of it. I didn’t realize that my father collected so many things.”
Gertrude eyed the room more closely. She looked pointedly at a stuffed eagle sitting on the table beside the fireplace. Dust weighed down its feathers and dulled the colour of its beady eyes. Her gaze shifted along the mantelpiece to a twisted, greying stoat, it’s pointed yellowing teeth bared in a defensive snarl. It was anyone’s guess what its original colour might have been. The woman turned back to the desk with paled cheeks as Madeleine rose from the chair.
“No indeed, my Lady.” There was a tremble in her tone.
Madeleine came out from behind the desk. The maid stared at the chair and gulped audibly. Madeleine walked quickly to the woman. She had forgotten that Gertrude was one of the first on the scene after the murder.
“I am so sorry, Gertrude. I should have thought of this. Are you feeling well enough to continue?”
Gertrude blew out a long breath and nodded at last.
“Yes, my Lady. ‘Twas silly of me to feel afeared. The master would never become a ghost.”
Madeleine’s insides clenched.
“A ghost? Why would you ever think of something like that?”
Gertrude shuddered.
“Phillips told me he had seen one. In the master’s bedroom.”
Impatience had Madeleine tightening her hands into fists.
“Mr. Phillips needs to control his imagination. There are no such things, especially not here at Claiborne.” Madeleine asserted with more confidence than she felt. Had that really been Phillips wandering around the house the previous night?
The maid glanced about the room again.
“How can you be so sure? This house is old, and with all them passages behind the walls... What if someone was lost in them? What if they died in them and were never discovered, my Lady?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
Madeleine shook her head firmly. This was not the time to let rumour and superstition take hold.
“That has never happened to anyone here. No one has ever become lost or gone missing. And there are no bodies sealed in the walls, you have my word on that. I know every one of the passages like I know my own face.” She dismissed the story her father had told her about becoming so disorientated in the dark spaces that he had lost all sense of direction. He had been only a boy when the incident happened and had probably imagined half of the story.
Gertrude shivered again.
“But what if...”
Madeleine interrupted. She had heard enough. Her father wasn’t in his grave yet. It seemed unlikely that he would have left it to haunt the halls already.
“What if you forget about Phillips’ over active imagination and begin cleaning in here while I ask the man to do something useful, with his newly available spare time, and remove this box to my bedchamber? I have an appointment with cook and am already keeping her waiting.”
&
nbsp; Gertrude’s eyebrows dipped lower. She looked as though she might object, but suddenly changed her mind.
“Very well, my Lady. I’ll see that it is done.”
The resigned tone of the maid’s voice gave Madeleine the impression that she would only give the place a cursory clean. Perhaps the housekeeper had been right. Maybe there was more of a problem here than she had imagined. Time to become the lady of the house and make her presence felt.
“Thank you, Gertrude. I want the place clean enough to eat your dinner from the mantel.” She ignored the woman’s horrified glance at the layer of dirt as she carried on. “I’ll come back to see how you are getting on in an hour or so.”
The maid dipped a quick curtsey, picked a duster from her apron pocket and began flicking it over the mantelpiece.
Madeleine left the room and walked straight into a hovering Phillips who stood right outside the door.
“Ah! Just the person I wanted. I know that it is not your usual work, but I would be most grateful if you would remove that box to my room.” She indicated the box sitting among the clouds of dust that now filled the study. Gertrude had clearly begun her work in earnest.
Phillips gave a quick bow.
“Of course, my Lady, but I had hoped to be able to speak to you for a few minutes. My position...I have nowhere, no one...” His voice trailed off and he wiped the sweat from his pale brow as he moved nervously from foot to foot.
Madeleine took pity on the man.
“I don’t have time to discuss your employment at the present, Mr. Phillips, but please be assured that no one is going to turn you out just yet. Your place here is secure for the time being. The new earl informs me that he has no valet. Though I cannot make the decision for him, I am sure he will consider retaining you. After all, I can give you an excellent reference. My father was always turned out perfectly.”
An Unexpected Title (Suspicious Circumstance Book 1) Page 13
