Simon laughed. “Believe me, I’m immune to all references to the handsomeness of our resident Adonis, and you’re right, Emily does adore him. I was only teasing.”
“Oh,” Lily said. “I’m silly.”
“You’re not. Not in the least.”
“You’re very kind. Do you get bored staying here?” Lily asked, moving her hand lightly over the grass just past the edge of the blanket. It was cool and starting to feel the slightest bit damp. “It seems like not a lot to do.”
“Never,” he said.
“I wonder if I might be bored if I had so little to do. I don’t think I’d be good at shooting birds,” she said. “Is it difficult?”
“I shall teach you and you can decide.”
“Sir!”
He glowered at her with false menace. “You must call me Simon,” he said, and leaned closer to her, “or I shall be extremely put out.”
She sipped her champagne. “As you say, Simon.” She loved the sound of his name on her lips, forbidden and exciting.
“How did you like your book?” he asked.
This question all but made her heart stop. They had been having such a lovely time, and now she would have to spoil it by telling him she hadn’t read it. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to take a good look through it.”
“Why not? Is Emily working you too hard? I thought you had time in the afternoon to yourself.”
“Oh, I do,” she said, eager to distract him. “Usually, Alice—she’s one of the other maids—and I have a cup of tea in the servants’ hall and put our feet up. That is to say, not actually up on the furniture, you know, but we do get to relax. We read the newspaper and catch each other up on any interesting letters we’ve received from our families.”
“And in the evening, when you’ve finished working?”
“That’s generally when I sketch or read,” she said. “Lady Emily is lovely about letting us borrow books from the library. I’ve not been in many other ones, but I do agree hers is quite wonderful.”
“What do you like to read?” Simon asked.
“I quite like Mr. Dickens,” she said. “Oliver Twist and Great Expectations are my favorites.”
“When do you plan to read the book I gave you?”
“Oh, sir.” She turned away from him. “Simon.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“It’s just that, you see, I can’t read the book you gave me.”
“Why on earth not? Mrs. Elliott didn’t take it away from you, surely?”
“No, she didn’t, but I’m afraid someone else did.”
“Who?”
“I’m not certain, but I do have a suspect.”
“A suspect? You sound like your mistress. Tell me what happened.”
“I had been saving it, you see, wanting a good proper look at it when I wasn’t too tired and had a nice bit of time to myself. So I put it away in my dresser. I was very careful with it, I promise you. But then when at last I went to fetch it, it was gone.”
“Gone?”
“Vanished.”
“So whom do you suspect?”
“One of the other maids. She’s in the kitchen.”
“Why her?”
“She despises me,” Lily said.
“What’s her name?”
“Pru.”
“I have met her,” Simon said. “Outside the stable.” He remembered how she had made it clear she would be available to him for any bit of fun. He had never liked girls like that.
“I can’t prove it, of course, and I don’t want to cause trouble by accusing her when I’ve got nothing more than a feeling about it.”
“You didn’t tell Mrs. Elliott? Or Mr. Davis?”
“No, sir, only Alice.”
He didn’t correct her “sir.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, her heart sinking. “I hope you can forgive me.”
He smiled, and relief washed over her. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry that your book is gone. Don’t worry, though, I shall get you another.”
“You can’t! It’s too much.”
“I shall be the judge of that,” he said. “Now, you’ve hardly touched your salmon. Tuck in at once or you’ll be in danger of losing it to me.”
And that was it. He wasn’t mad. He didn’t think she had been careless. She hadn’t let him down. More importantly, Meg had been right. He was happy to talk about whatever she wanted to and was interested in her world, not in trying to make her something she wasn’t. Lily thought she might die of happiness.
The champagne was gone, and the biscuits and cakes demolished. Lily had just returned her empty teacup to its saucer when Simon leaned close, over their plates. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an afternoon more,” he said.
“I know I never have,” Lily said, feeling herself start to lean towards him.
“You are a magnificent girl, Lily. I am so pleased we had this time together.”
Then the most extraordinary thing happened. He leaned forward even farther and kissed her, right on the mouth. Lily had never felt anything so soft and warm as his lips, and she wished with everything she was that she could forever be suspended in this, the most wonderful moment of her life. No matter what happened in the future, no matter what she had lived through in her past, she would always have this moment, this kiss, this perfect, perfect kiss. No one had ever told her life could be so sweet.
19
Simon and Lily would be returning to the house soon from their picnic, and I was not looking forward to seeing either of them. I was in the library, reading Herodotus until I came to a passage that made me close the book: The worst pain a man can suffer: to have insight into much and power over nothing. I rang for Davis and reminded him of his promised cigar. When he brought it without argument, my heart sank deep into my abdomen. He, too, knew the gravity of the situation. I stopped him as he opened the door to go.
“Davis, I would like you to join me,” I said. “Fetch yourself a cigar, and I’ll pour port for us both.”
“Madam, I—”
“You know better than to argue with me.”
He nodded, disappeared, and returned a short while later with a second cigar. He cut it, warmed it over a match, and lit it, rotating it in a fluid manner that suggested experience.
“I am most distressed,” I said, handing him his port. “I want to run a happy household, and I thought I did until this wretched business with Lily. Are the staff generally pleased with their situations?”
“I believe they are, madam. You must not chide yourself simply because of one girl with an ill temper.” He took a sip from his glass. “This is a fine port.”
“It is,” I said.
“It feels very odd to be drinking it in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I promise it will feel less odd once you have finished your glass,” I said. “Are you content with your life in service?”
“I am, madam. I have been working since I was a boy of eight, when the Viscount Ashton—your late husband’s grandfather—took me on as a page.”
“And you’ve worked your way up to running the whole show,” I said.
“I will say, madam, I never thought I’d leave the Ashtons.”
“I am very glad you did.”
“Service is a good life, madam. I am well looked after, I eat well, have comfortable rooms, and get a great deal of personal satisfaction from my work. If Lily is less content, she cannot blame you.”
“I know you are right, but I cannot help feeling guilty all the same. It is down to nothing more than an accident of birth that I am the one inviting you to sit in this library instead of the reverse.”
“Why should that trouble you, madam?”
“It seems so unfair.”
“I don’t agree in the least,” he said. “The great families of this country possess their land and their rank because they have proven themselves time and time again. Your ancestors distinguished themselves in grand manner.
Mine did not acquit themselves in such glorious fashion. That is not something for which you should feel bad.”
“But it was our ancestors, not us.”
“If I may be so bold, you have been taking Mr. Hargreaves’s revolutionary ideas too far to heart, madam.”
Then, for one of the very few times in all the years I had known him, Davis smiled. A real smile. Not the hint of one, not a small grin in an unguarded moment. A real smile.
“So you do not believe that Lily has a legitimate complaint?” I asked.
“No, madam. If she doesn’t want to be in service, she doesn’t have to be. There are other jobs to be had.”
“But in what sort of circumstances? Would working in a factory be a step up?”
“To some it is, madam. I have argued more than once with men who consider me less than they because I serve a gentleman—and a gentlewoman, of course. They prefer a factory, where they believe they serve no one but themselves. They are as much in service as I, but they don’t view it that way, perhaps because they are responsible for their own lodgings and live away from where they work. I am not suggesting one way of life is better than another, but we all have choices, madam. Including Lily.” He took a last puff on his cigar before putting it out in a silver ashtray. “I should like to stay longer, madam, but there is work to be done. Many thanks for this respite.”
“Thank you, Davis,” I said. “You have given me much to think about.”
After he had gone, movement outside the window caught my eye. Simon and Lily were returning from their picnic, their faces animated and smiling. He held two hampers on the same side, one tucked under his arm and the second’s handle firmly in his hand, so that he could keep the other free to hold hers. I shuddered. Did she plan to do to him what she had to Archibald? It was impossible to believe as I watched her. Nothing in her countenance gave away even a hint of displeasure or resentment. Could I be wrong? There might be some other explanation for the book and her presence at the lake that night. I would pass no judgment on her until I had spoken to her myself.
*
Simon had gone directly to his room upon his return, and I hoped he wouldn’t rush to come back downstairs. It was cowardly, I knew, but I could not bear to take away the happiness so evident on his face when he was with Lily. I glanced at the clock on the mantel. The train from London would have already arrived; Colin would be home soon. Alice brought tea to me, and I knew Simon could not be long behind her. I braced myself, wishing Colin would beat him to the library.
It was not to be.
Simon flung open the door in a most exuberant manner, grinning. “My dear lady, I have never—ever—ever in my life had such a delightful afternoon. Lily is all charm. She is the most unaffected creature, completely unspoilt. Her mind is sharp, and she possesses an admirable curiosity. She does not belong in service.”
“Did she tell you that?” I asked.
“Lily? Heavens no. I don’t think she would even like to hear someone else say it.”
“Why is that?”
“She waxed rhapsodic about her work,” he said, dropping onto a leather sofa and accepting the cup of tea I offered him. “Bloody gorgeous day. This weather cannot possibly hold.”
“No, I imagine not.”
“You are grim,” he said. “Apologies. I am so wrapped up in my own triumph I didn’t ask how you are. Have you made any progress in the investigation?”
“I’m afraid I have, but it brings me no joy.”
“Emily, what is it?” he asked.
“One of the kitchen maids admitted today that she saw someone near the lake close to the time of the murder.”
“Dear me.”
“It gets worse, Simon,” I said. “She saw Lily.”
“Ridiculous. If she was by the lake, I am sure there is a completely innocent explanation. I can assure you that Lily had nothing whatsoever to do—”
“There is more. I found this in her room.” I had put the sorry pieces of the book into a small box and passed them to him. All the color drained from his face.
“Bloody hell,” he said. “She told me someone had taken it. I don’t know what she’ll do when she learns it has been destroyed.”
“She told you someone had taken it?” I asked.
“Yes, this afternoon. She was mortified by the whole incident. It was very sweet, really. She thought I would be angry.”
“Perhaps she felt that way because she knew what she had done to the book.”
“You cannot think she had anything to do with this,” he said. “She loved this book. If you could have seen her eyes when she opened it—”
“Simon, I want more than anything to believe you, and I would never doubt your sincerity, but this is rather strong evidence she is not quite so pleased with you as you think. Consider also that she has been placed at the scene of a murder, the murder of a man in a position comparable to your own.”
“Lily is not going to kill me. Good Lord, do you not see how absurd this is?”
“I am not suggesting that we know it for a fact,” I said. “I haven’t yet spoken to Lily.”
“She told me the book was missing, and she thinks a kitchen maid took it.”
“Prudence?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Prudence is the one who saw Lily at the lake.”
“Prudence hates Lily.”
“Davis told me they are not friends,” I said. “However, one of the grooms saw Lily as well.”
Simon nodded, and I detected the slightest change in his countenance. He seemed less confidently certain. “This is an extremely serious situation.”
“Indeed,” I said, reaching for his hand, “and I am more sorry than I can say to see you embroiled in it in a way that may cause you hurt, or even heartbreak. Anyone could read on your face how happy you were this afternoon. It is possible that Prudence has not been truthful.”
“Prudence may be the one with something to hide,” Simon said. “I don’t like the girl.”
“You know her? When on earth did you see her?”
“Outside the stables when I returned from London,” he said. “She made what I considered some rather awkward advances to me.”
“Did she?”
“I recognized what she was doing at once.”
“I was under the impression she was involved with one of the grooms,” I said.
“And was it he who was with her by the lake and confirmed having seen Lily?”
“Yes, and before you say anything, I realize that they both could be lying. That is why I want to speak to Lily at once.” I rang for Davis and asked him to bring her to me. Simon remained. He wanted to hear for himself what she had to say, and, I suspect, he wanted to offer her what moral support he could.
The door opened, and we both stood straight up. I almost knocked over my chair. I must have been more on edge than I realized. Colin laughed.
“You two are a sorry sight,” he said. “Have I interrupted something untoward?”
“Far from it,” I said and was about to start to explain when Davis entered the room.
“Madam, I am most sorry. Lily is nowhere to be found. All of her possessions are gone from her room. I’m afraid she has fled.”
Downstairs
xix
Alice had spent more than two hours during Lily’s afternoon off in the China room, carefully dusting every piece of porcelain displayed in the built-in cabinets that lined the interior walls. When she emerged, stepping into the great hall, she wondered if Lily had returned yet from her picnic, but was almost immediately distracted from the thought by the clatter of footsteps that seemed to come simultaneously from every staircase in the house. She heard voices calling from upstairs but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She went directly below stairs and popped her head into the Pug’s Parlor. “What’s all this commotion?” she asked the housekeeper. “It’s chaos here.”
“Lily has gone missing,” Mrs. Elliott said. “I have no doubt Lady
Emily will want to speak to you about it presently. In the meantime, please continue to see to your duties. The fact that Lily has decided to shirk hers should not be felt upstairs.”
“Of course, Mrs. Elliott,” Alice said. “I’ll start with the fires and then go do the dressing rooms.” Alice’s heart was thumping in her chest. Something terrible must have happened with Lord Flyte. She knew it had been foolish to trust him. Gentlemen like that always wanted the same thing. Lily had told her just that, more times than Alice could count.
She closed Mrs. Elliott’s door but hesitated before going to the drawing room to stoke the fire. Instead, she went into the kitchen, where Cook was starting preparations for the family’s dinner.
“What do you want?” Cook asked. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”
“Have you heard anything about Lily?” she asked, throwing a look at Pru, who was kneading dough. “I know you have, Pru.”
“We know she’s gone, that’s all,” Cook said.
“It’s not all,” Pru said. “She’s gone because she can’t hide her guilt any longer.”
“What do you mean by that?” Alice asked.
“I couldn’t lie for her any longer,” Pru said. “Not with Lady Emily questioning all of us again. I saw her down by the lake right before Lord Montagu was done in.”
“You can’t think Lily—”
“It’s not my job to think,” Pru said, “only to tell the truth about what I saw.”
Alice did not stay to hear another word. She raced upstairs, not to the family rooms, but all the way to her own, where she found Mr. Davis looking very serious indeed.
“Do you know anything about this, Alice?” Mr. Davis asked.
“About Lily? About her being gone?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Alice felt tears in her eyes. “Is it really true?”
“She’s taken everything,” Mr. Davis said. “Had she said anything to you?”
“No, sir, she hadn’t,” Alice said. “I hadn’t seen her since she came back from her picnic. It seems to me, Mr. Davis, that something must have happened to her this afternoon.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Behind the Shattered Glass Page 24
