He caught her fingers, where they still touched his hair, and brought them to his lips, kissing her there, then released her. She said nothing more, but simply turned, scooped up the fallen book, lifted her candlestick, and walked away. He watched her go with the sense that here, tonight, he had given his heart away, forever.
~~~~~
Eleanor doubted that St Cuthbert’s church had ever been so crowded before. On the whole, Molly’s funeral passed without incident, beyond the painful sobs of her parents and siblings. As she was laid to rest in the graveyard behind the church, people stood about with serious expressions, most of them, Eleanor thought, not so much grieving, as attempting to look suitably pious.
A few shifted uneasily, and some seemed more comfortable with the situation than others – but that was to be expected – funerals tended to remind people of their own past losses, and bring old grief back to the surface. Garrett, she knew, was watching everyone, hoping that, if Molly’s death had been the result of foul play, then the perpetrator would be even more uncomfortable at this time than others.
She turned her head, and watched, from downcast eyes, which way Garrett was looking, then shifted her own gaze that way. Off to one side, most of the grooms and stableboys stood in a cluster, and Garrett appeared to be studying them. That was logical, Eleanor supposed. They shifted about, but the longer Eleanor watched, the more obvious it became that one groom was left apart from the others. It was the man with the surly, leering manner, who she had observed watching Molly as she left the stables, on that first morning when she and Juliana had met Molly.
Eleanor shivered at the memory – the way he’d looked at the girl had not been pleasant. It made her wonder… perhaps she should tell Garrett about that, too. She turned her eyes back to the grave, where Molly’s coffin was, even then, being lowered into the ground. Sadness filled her, that someone so bright and cheerful was gone, so young.
It made her all the more aware of her own mortality, and of how unimportant things like appearance and social acceptance were, in the end, compared to love, family and friendship.
The earth filled the grave, and the last words were spoken, which freed the assembled masses from the need to be still and silent. Eleanor turned, and walked towards the lych gate, feeling oddly alone and bereft, even though her parents walked not far in front of her. She blinked, as a sudden impulse to tears took her, at the seeming futility of things, when a life could be snuffed out so easily.
From beside her, a voice came, so quietly that it was barely audible, yet she knew it instantly.
“It does you honour, lassie, that you’ll grieve for a maid. But life goes on – don’t let sorrow steal your Christmastide.”
She looked up, grateful for his words, and offered him a smile. The memory of the previous night’s kisses, and of his words then came back to her, filling her with warmth. Did he truly care for her? Would he really have been happy to marry her, had they been forced down that path? She hoped so – for she was beginning to think that she cared for him, this complex and much gossiped about man.
“I won’t. But still, no one should die so young…”
“True. All the more reason to celebrate life while we have it.”
They reached the carriages, and parted ways, but his words stayed with her, all the way back to the Castle.
~~~~~
Back at Kilmerstan Castle, Garrett went to his study, hoping to have some time to reflect on his observations of the morning, but it seemed that was not to be. One after another, people tapped on the door, wishing to tell him things, to provide information which had ‘only just now been remembered’. He rather thought it was less about sudden memory than about the desire to push suspicion onto others, and away from them. Still, he heard them all out, and took notes.
The first five were grooms and one stableboy. Almost every conversation followed a similar pattern. They had noticed him looking their way at the funeral, and it had all made them think again about what they had seen in the few days around Molly’s death. As a starting point, that was to be expected. What was more interesting was what came next. Each one of them then reported instances of the same man – the surly looking groom called Baggs, who had arrived in Lord Eiderton’s employ – either making unwanted advances to maids, or being angry and irritable about seemingly minor things.
It was abundantly clear that none of them liked the man, in the least.
The stableboy’s tale, however, was of far more interest.
“Yer Grace, me name’s Jimmy. That day – the day poor Molly died – I was oilin’ bridles in the tack room. It’s not me fav’rite job, but it’s better’n mucking stalls. Every so often, I’d look out the door and see people go past. That mornin’ I’d seen a few grooms about their business, then, just after that heavy rain, I saw Jones go by with that giant o’ a horse what the big Duke rides. All wet it was.”
“I see – did anyone else go past?”
“Yes. A little bit after that, that Duke went the same way – from the main wing into the centre wing of the stables, by hisself. Then no one for a while. But then, and I ’member thinkin’ it odd, at the time, that Baggs went past. In a right hurry, he was, almost a runnin’, and his face white as, like he’d seen a ghost or summat. I wondered, but then I thought – he’s such a surly, nasty piece, he prob’ly deserved whatever’s got him in such a state. He was going into the centre wing too. Before then, I hadn’t seen him all mornin’ – but that’s no surprise, as he’s been beddin’ down in the hayloft, whiles we’s got so many people here. But now, it’s been worryin’ me, that I didn’ tell you, just in case it matters, like.”
Garrett studied the earnest little face before him. The boy had no reason to lie, and what he’d said, in combination with things others had said, painted a very clear picture – especially that last bit.
“And after that? Did anyone else go past?”
“No. Not until Mr Carter came and asked me to help him get some hay down, and we went along the aisle and found her – just lyin’ there, all dead like.”
This was getting more and more interesting. For Baggs, when interviewed, had claimed to have been in the carriage house all morning, polishing. And had not mentioned, at all, that he had been sleeping in the hayloft.
“Thank you, Jimmy, that’s very helpful. Please don’t talk about this to anyone else – just go back to your work.”
“Yes, Yer Grace.”
The boy bowed, as best he could, and scurried off.
Garrett had barely finished writing notes about that conversation, when another tap came on the door. Sighing, he opened it.
“Eleanor – this is a surprise – what can I do for you?”
“I remembered something – something which might be relevant.”
“You are not the only one. Come in, and tell me.”
She settled onto the chair, and he waited. She was frowning, as if concentrating on the memory.
“The first day that I went to the stables, with Juliana, and we saw Molly, I watched her, as she walked back through the stables towards the door, to go back to the house, and there was a man – a groom – standing there. As she went past him, he leered at her, and I remember that I shivered at the sight of it. It was not nice – it was the kind of look that lecherous old men give a girl at a Ball, when they know that she can’t politely refuse to dance with them, and that the dance involved will let them ‘accidentally’ touch her, in ways they shouldn’t.”
“Do you know which man it was?”
“I don’t know his name – but he’s the surly looking one that the others don’t seem to like, the one who was sort of off to the side at the funeral today.”
“I see. Yes, I do think that could be relevant. Thank you for telling me.”
As she left the room, Garrett stared at the portrait of his father on the wall, not seeing it, as his mind began to put all of the pieces together.
Chapter Ten
Adair was hiding in the library again.
He had spent some time in the parlour, but the grating voice of Lady Elizabeth Hobbs, and the inanity of the conversation around him, had driven him away. No doubt they were now gossiping even more freely about him, because he wasn’t in the room. At least in the library he did not have to socialise, and there was ample reading matter to entertain himself with.
Even as he thought that, the sound of the door opening reached him, and he groaned. Who might it be? And what sort of conversation would they expect?
When Kilmerstan dropped into the seat opposite him, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m glad its you. For a moment, I thought that I was going to have to engage in polite chit-chat.”
Kilmerstan laughed, shaking his head.
“Tired of finding innocuous things to say to a room full of accusatory stares?”
“Exactly.”
“Well then, you’ll be pleased to know that I think I am making progress. I have a collection of new pieces of information – each small, but together, they add up. I wanted to ask you some more questions, about what you recall – not from that morning, but from the few days before.”
“Oh? Ask away – anything that might help finalise this dreadful episode is a good thing.”
“Indeed. I gather that you went out for a ride, each morning from the day after you arrived?”
“Yes – it is peaceful at that time of day.”
“So, each day in the stables, did you see many people, apart from your own groom?”
“A few other grooms, going about the business of feeding and watering the horses. Occasionally a maid or a footman who’d come out there for whatever reason of their own. Mostly, they were polite, quiet, and actively chose to get out of my way. I suppose because I am so ferocious looking.”
Adair gave a wry smile as he said it, but he knew very well that people saw him that way.
“One day, you’ll find more people who can see the kind-hearted man underneath that rough exterior. So – none of note, nothing even slightly odd or unusual?”
“Well… there was one moment. The day before the day of Molly’s death, as I walked into the stables, in a fair hurry, a man came down the ladder from the hayloft, and dropped into the walkway, not even looking where he stepped, then snarled at me when I barely avoided colliding with him.”
“Had you seen him before?”
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time – just went on my way, thinking he was likely having a bad day, but now that you ask, yes, I had. The first day I was here, he was out there. I only noticed him then because he was standing near the door, talking to a maid, and, as I walked past, she said something sharp to him, turned on her heel and stalked off. At the time I assumed it was probably a lover’s tiff. Now, maybe I’m not sure it’s that simple.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple either. By the way, I can tell you now that your telling of the tale aligned perfectly with Lady Eleanor’s, and no, I don’t think that you colluded on a story either, because I now have information from others which corroborates much of it, especially the timing. So now that you have both been ‘reputation-riskingly honourable’ in telling me the truth, what are you doing about courting her? For I have the feeling that she will be most receptive to your suit.”
Adair laughed, shaking his head – it was good to talk to someone who was capable of bluntness.
“What am I doing? Behaving like a polite gentleman should, talking to her when I can, and hoping that you’ll formally resolve all of this turmoil soon, so that I can speak to her father with no shadow of doubt on my reputation.”
“Good, I’ll do my best to make it speedy for you.”
Kilmerstan rose, and left him there. Adair stared into the shifting flames of the fire, and wondered just what other people had told Kilmerstan, which had led to those specific questions.
~~~~~
Baggs started awake, for the third time that night. It was getting worse – he wasn’t sleeping, and he always felt even more irritable than normal. And all of the supercilious other grooms, who apparently thought themselves better than him, and were half shunning him… well that just made him more annoyed. He wanted this investigation to be done, for the Duke to declare that Molly’s death was an accident, so everyone would stop looking for someone to blame.
But instead of it seeming more likely, the Duke was watching, all the time, and asking more questions. It was almost as if someone had told him something, something which had made him suspect the truth. Not that Baggs had meant her to fall to her death! Far from it – he’d just wanted a nice roll in the hay with her, but she’d been silly, and fallen. It really had been an accident – but if anyone worked out that he’d been there, no one would believe him innocent of murder!
He couldn’t think straight – lack of sleep was taking its toll. But… no one had seen him that morning, had they? And then, as he drifted back towards sleep again, it came to him, and he sat upright, suddenly feeling icy cold. That morning, when he’d heard Molly’s voice down in the stable, he’d listened, peeking down through the hatch, and had barely been able to believe his luck when he’d heard that Lady Eleanor tell Molly where the kittens were.
He’d watched until Molly was part way up the ladder, leaning out just far enough to see, but not enough to be seen – at least he’d thought so. But what if he was wrong? What if Lady Eleanor had seen him? And told the Duke? Surely not…. but deep inside, he felt quite certain that she had seen him, that the odd way his fellow grooms treated him was all her fault.
Sleep refused to return after that, and by the time that dawn lit the sky, he had worked himself into a fury, certain that every ill that plagued him could be laid at her door.
~~~~~
Waking early was, lamentably, becoming a habit, thought Eleanor, as she lay in her bed, watching the light coming through the gap in her curtains slowly brighten. But once she was awake, going back to sleep seemed impossible. She wondered what the day would be like – Christmas was so close, and everyone was still so utterly unfestive, with the pall cast by Molly’s death hanging over them.
Rising, she went to the window, and peered out.
A thin layer of new snow covered the ground, making everything look clean and pure. She almost laughed – it was rather like the way things were in the house – a well behaved polite surface hiding a dirty tangle of accusations, suspicion, and death. Still, she could, perhaps, just for a few hours, allow herself the indulgence of believing its lie, of forgetting how horrible things were, and just appreciating the beauty.
She rang for Mary, and dressed warmly, taking only a cup of hot chocolate before venturing outside.
Downstairs, she slipped quietly out across the terrace, being careful not to slip on its icy surface, warmed by the memory of that moment when she had first met Braeness, right there, first felt his hands upon her. She went down the steps, and out into the gardens, winding her way around the winter bare flowerbeds.
A light breeze tossed small flurries of snow about her feet, and she stopped in the lee of the large evergreen hedge which separated the gardens from the gravelled stableyard, to simply gaze across the landscape, out of the wind. After a while, standing still became too cold, and she moved again, past the end of the hedge. She glanced across to the stables, and found herself meeting eyes with the unpleasant surly groom, who stood in the middle of the gravelled yard.
Hastily she looked away, for his expression was harsh, almost venomous, and fear ran through her. She walked on, but the sound of rapid footsteps on gravel came to her. Eleanor sped up, hoping that she was imagining the idea that the footsteps pursued her. But she was not. A rough grasp on her arm jerked her to a stop, spinning her around to face the man.
“Unhand me!”
“No. Not before I’ve had me say! Nasty little piece you are, poisoning the Duke’s mind against me. What have you said, eh? What did you tell him? That you saw me in the hayloft? Or did you add to it, to make a better story then? I should give you what for,
I should, for all that you look so pretty and innocent. Maybe I will, eh?”
He was mad – she could draw no other conclusion. And obviously, he was dangerous. What might he do? And what did he believe she’d done? His ravings made no sense… unless…
The man began to drag her towards the stables, and though she fought him, she did not succeed in breaking free. Her mind raced – had he said ‘saw me in the hayloft’? He had. Did that mean…? Fear took even stronger hold on her. What if this man had killed Molly?
“Let me go! How dare you!”
Eleanor let her voice rise, hoping to attract attention, hoping that someone would see what was happening, before he got her inside. There were stalls, and many storage rooms in the stables, places he could drag her into, out of sight. Her stomach churned at the thought of what he might do, and she screamed louder. He paused, and turned to her.
“Be quiet, you high class tart!”
She gasped, shocked, and he slapped her across the face, then began dragging her again. She stumbled after him, half dazed, but determined not to fall. While she was on her feet, she stood at least some chance of escaping, if the right moment arrived. But the side door to the least used part of the stables was fast coming closer, and she had no plan, no idea of how to escape whatever he intended.
~~~~~
Adair had returned from his ride earlier than usual, having started out before dawn, and watched the sun rise from the top of a nearby hill. The stables were still quiet as he rode in, and the only groom he saw except Jones was the surly fellow, who was loitering around the stable door, with an odd look on his face. The man looked haggard, as if he had not slept in days, and Adair wondered if, perhaps, he was the one Garrett suspected – for his behaviour was certainly strange.
Inside, he gave Emperor into Jones’ care, and turned back towards the house, looking sadly at the hayloft ladder as he passed it.
From outside, there came the sound of raised voices, which escalated to a scream. A woman’s scream. Adair ran, out of the door, and onto the gravelled yard, looking around frantically. There, across the yard, a flash of colour disappeared past the end of the other wing of the stables. He sprinted in that direction, made sure of it by another half scream.
A Christmas Bride for the Duke: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 4) Page 8
