The fire glowed dully, banked down for the night. Martha had overruled Mr. Pritheroe’s request not to light the fire. She’d said Lady Hareton might easily make herself ill if she were not warm enough, and had the fire lit anyway. I found two more candles and lit them. The autumn afternoon darkened into evening, and I needed the light. I took one of them with me to search closer.
Near a chair, I found the silver chain that secured the necessaire to my waist. It must have broken under my skirt. Items lay scattered beneath the chair. I put down the candlestick, picked up the pieces and put them in my pocket. I only had to secure the chain again. I put out the candle, then turned to the mantelpiece to put out the one I had left there.
In the heavy carving above the old mantelpiece, by the raking light of the single candle, I saw what looked like a gap. I investigated. I took the little pair of scissors from my pocket, and inserted one of the blades carefully into the slit. I heard the snap as a secret door flew open.
These little cupboards were often fitted into mantels as a place to store valuables, but I found no treasure there. I felt inside, and then felt something sharp, and pulled my hand out precipitately. It bled from a new cut. I cursed myself for a fool, sucking angrily at the wound, and felt in my pocket for a handkerchief. Thankfully, the cut wasn’t a bad one, and it only took a moment to bind.
I cautiously reached my hand up again, and this time I held the candle high so I could see inside properly.
What I pulled out of that cupboard made my breath catch. A knife, a large hunting knife, and as I had discovered, very sharp. It couldn’t have been there very long, because it was shiny and clean.
Why would anyone want to put a knife in a secret cupboard? I could only think of one reason. Someone hadn’t wanted to be caught with it on their person, and had hidden it quickly. The presence of the minister and his daughter in here every day must have made retrieval difficult, so it was still here. The parlour was near the back door, making it easy for someone to come in here and conceal it after they used it to cut the traces on the old coach.
This was a murder weapon.
At the realisation, I nearly dropped the thing. I gripped the hilt tighter, fearing that if I dropped it, the noise would attract attention. I couldn’t replace it in its erstwhile resting place, for someone might come and take it away. Then any hope we might find the culprit would be lost for good. I’d have to take it away, and seek out Richard, James and Lizzie in the morning.
My pocket wouldn’t hold so large a knife, and, since it had no sheath and was so sharp, I didn’t want to hide it about my person. I closed the cupboard, blew out the candle on the mantelpiece, and took the one by the door out with me into the passage beyond. I was in luck: no one about to see I concealed the gleaming blade behind my black sleeve, hurrying to my room. I sighed in relief as I closed the door. They would miss me downstairs if I was away too long, so I had to be quick. I looked about and hid the knife in a drawer, tucking it under a large pile of stockings.
Downstairs, I was welcomed by calls to make a fourth at whist, but I’m afraid I didn’t play very well that evening.
Chapter Seventeen
Before breakfast, there was only time to inform Lizzie I had something important to tell her. A maid accompanied her, helping her to dress, so I went back to my room.
The maid came to me and brushed my hair, drawing it back into a simple knot. I was wondering how to get a message to Richard and Gervase without compromising myself even further when a knock fell on the door. It was Carier. The maid let him in, leaving the door open for propriety’s sake. The maid, the one with the broken heart, looked at him curiously. “From my master,” the man said, woodenly. I thanked him. He bowed and left the room. I put the note away, until I should be alone. The maid finished and when she had gone, I opened the note.
“My courtship of you will begin in earnest, in a few weeks. Meanwhile, my only love, my future wife, this is what I referred to when you honoured me with your gift.”
Then followed, in his own handwriting, a transcript of John Donne’s “The Good Morrow,” the one that begins:
“I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?”
My memory flew back to that little room. I glowed with remembrance while I read. He had written this, knowing it gave me power over him. I could produce this as proof of his love and intention to make me his wife, should I need it, as clear proof as any signed contract. He’d signed it at the bottom, with a bold flourish.
I hid the note and went to breakfast. I gave Martha a beaming welcome that made her look twice at me. “Why, Rose, you’re in good spirits today.”
I agreed with her.
In the end, it was much later in the day before I managed to convey my information about the knife. Gervase helped Martha while Richard sat nearby, watching his brother scrubbing china shepherdesses with a beatific smile upon his face. Servants were, as usual, milling about, performing the many duties involved in restoring the Abbey, or at least, making it habitable. I said that I hoped Richard and Gervase would join Lizzie and me for tea in a little while, and they accepted. To my relief, Martha refused my offer, saying she preferred to work through. I promised to have some refreshment brought to her.
I had tea served in the sunny little room where I had seen Richard once before. He evidently recalled it too, for he smiled when he came in and his eyes met mine, burning with remembrance. He took my hand in his and Lizzie’s eyes widened when he retained it, although she said nothing. I let my hand rest in his, and we sat together on the oak settle, which Martha had by now found cushions for. I took my hand away, poured the tea, and told them my story with no preamble.
“I think I found the knife used to cut the traces.”
The result was everything I’d hoped for. Tea dishes were replaced. Quietly, by Richard and Gervase, and with a clatter by my less careful sister. I stood and went over to a small table by the door, and took the knife out of the drawer. Savouring my triumph, I crossed to the tea table and put the knife down in the middle of it, right in front of the teapot. The blade gleamed in resonance with the carefully polished silver pot, winking balefully at us.
I sat again. Richard picked up the weapon and balanced it on one finger where it swayed slightly like a lethal seesaw. He watched the gentle movement thoughtfully. “Where did you find this?”
“I went to look for something I’d lost in the little parlour when I noticed one of those secret cupboards you often get above fireplaces. I forced the lock, and that’s where I found this.” I waited for them to digest that piece of information before I continued. “So what do we do now?”
Everybody watched the knife as it swayed on Richard’s finger, and nobody spoke for a while. Then he looked at me warmly. “Clever girl. There’s little doubt this is the knife which cut the strap.” He turned his attention to the knife. “Why else would anyone want to hide it? It’s a perfectly ordinary knife. There’s no hidden mechanism, it’s not made of a precious metal, so I think we can conclude it has been deliberately concealed for another reason.” He thought, frowning, never taking his gaze off the weapon, until he replaced it on the table. “It’s not been hidden long, it’s too shiny for that.”
“Should we put it back?” asked Lizzie.
“Most certainly not. If it disappears, we have nothing.” He paused again while he thought. “Perhaps we should see what bait rises when we announce what we know. My love, would you consider taking part in a stratagem?”
“Richard,” Gervase warned
He looked at me, deaf to the protests of his brother. I think the endearment slipped out because he was concentrating on another matter, and it had come naturally to him now.
It would be foolish for him to apologise for the slip. He’d said it now, and it would be equally foolish for me to behave in a missish way and protest. “Yes, if it would help.” He squeezed my hand and smiled before he turned away to address his brother.
“I’m sorry, Gervase, you were saying?”
“Could you be a little more careful, Strang?”
“What?” He really couldn’t seem to remember using the endearment. Gervase threw up his hands in a gesture of submission. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, I’m sure he meant nothing by it.”
Richard replaced the knife on the table. “Yes, I did. I meant what I said and I’m tired of concealment. Soon there’ll be no need.”
“How soon?” his brother said.
“I’ve written to our father, requesting an interview with him and his man of business when I return home after taking Julia and her aunt back to her father’s house. I will inform him that I am no longer bound to Julia Cartwright and I intend to court Rose Golightly.”
Gervase paled. “Then I think, with Lady Hareton’s permission, I’ll remain here. Or even return to India. Even that might not be far enough.”
Lizzie had gone white. “I had no idea it had gone this far.”
I met her accusatory stare without blushing. I had nothing to be ashamed of. “Yes, it’s gone this far.”
“But the scandal. What will Miss Cartwright do?”
Richard gave my hand another squeeze. “It’s true she’s proving a trifle difficult, but when I’ve spoken with her family, I hope they’ll bring her around. I will not marry her, and if she brings a breach of promise suit, she’ll make herself a laughing stock in society. Better if she cries off, and we agree to part. Besides, I plan to take Rose away, as soon as we’re married. Bride visits and such can wait, I want her to myself first. She won’t have to face anything without me, and it would probably be best to give society time to accustom itself to the idea. It will leave the way clear for you, although, I’m afraid it might add to your burden of scandal.”
Lizzie turned a pretty shade of pink, while I, surprisingly, stayed calm. To hear him talk about it like this made it almost real. He must have seen my hesitation, for he tugged at my hand, making me give him my full attention. “Never doubt it.”
I nodded, feeling safe. I’d come to harbour with this man.
Lizzie looked from one to the other of us and sighed in defeat. “I only hope I do as well.”
“Madam, you will be a sensation,” Gervase said.
“You will, indeed.” Richard’s charming smile did the trick, and Lizzie smiled timorously in return. “Now, may we return to the subject in hand? It would be very gratifying if we cleared the matter up before I left.” He released my hand. “This is a long shot, but I think it’s the only hope we have. I want to try to flush the culprit out into the open.” He paused. “If Rose announced loudly over dinner that she found the strap, it may happen. The culprit could panic, and make a dash for the knife’s hiding place.”
“It’s possible,” Gervase agreed. “Would you object, ma’am?”
I assured him it would be a pleasure.
Surprisingly, at dinner that evening we had a full compliment. Emboldened by our acceptance of their Bible reading, even Mr. Pritheroe and his daughter joined us. He enjoyed commenting on the meal’s richness, its overabundance. “Nothing will be wasted,” Martha assured him. “Whatever is left will go downstairs and be consumed there.”
“There is something to be said for that,” the man grudgingly admitted, “but it might be better if you invited the servants to partake with you.”
Martha laughed. “There are several reasons why that shouldn’t happen. Everyone would be made uncomfortable and in any case there isn’t enough room at the table.”
Mr. Pritheroe opened his mouth, but then closed it again when he saw the determination on Martha’s face. He wouldn’t win this one. Miss Cartwright sat next to Richard, but used the occasion to ignore him. Instead, she chatted to Steven, who sat on her other side.
The conversation became more flirtatious and animated. Julia plied her fan so much she nearly had her glass over. Richard quietly moved it out of harm’s way, but other than that, took little notice. He saw me across the table, and lifted his glass. I smiled back at him. Martha’s head moved sharply when she saw the movement. I hoped she would ascribe it to a simple flirtation, but I felt secure enough now to tell her the truth if she should ask me.
Miss Cartwright turned a smiling face to Steven. “You have a charming wit, sir.” I’d never found Steven witty. Quite the opposite, in fact. “It nearly makes up for the lack of it in other directions.” She glanced at Richard, her gaze hard and sharp, though he took no notice. There were few lulls in the conversation because Miss Cartwright kept herself so busy with Steven. She might consider Steven relatively safe, as a man of the cloth. It was clear she was trying to make Richard jealous, as though the encounter with him the other day had never happened and they were still a couple. I guessed she was used to getting her own way, pampered and petted all her life. She would have driven Richard mad within six months. He had his own share of self-centredness, which wouldn’t have worked well with hers.
I watched the flickering light from the candles reflected on the jewels and brocades the Kerres and Cartwrights wore, and felt, frankly, jealous. I longed to wear something a little more exciting than this unrelieved black. At least, in three months, I would be able to wear grey and white, pearls and simple jewellery.
Lizzie looked wonderful in black, even mourning black. With pursed lips, she too watched Miss Cartwright, either making mental notes or criticising her, I couldn’t tell which.
At last, Miss Cartwright paused to draw breath, and I took my chance. “James, I don’t know if you’ve seen the old coach in the stables?”
James stared at me, perplexed. He knew about it and he must know knew I couldn’t have forgotten, but he said nothing. Pritheroe’s head snapped round, little eyes narrowed. “The strap that broke—the one that caused the accident—I’m almost sure someone cut it.” I stopped for dramatic effect.
Miss Cartwright waved her fan carelessly and Martha gasped, horrified. I didn’t look around, because Richard, Gervase and Lizzie would be doing that.
James’s puzzled expression told me he knew I was dissembling. “I’ve seen it, my dear. I’ve come to the same conclusion. I can’t think who would have done such a thing.” The air positively glittered with reaction. I could leave them to discuss it.
“I’m sure you must be mistaken, Miss Golightly.” Miss Cartwright seemed annoyed that any other female should take centre stage at any table she occupied.
I shook my head. “There’s no mistake.”
Julia Cartwright shrugged and turned back to Steven, but he watched me now, and she petulantly flicked open her fan and waved it before her face.
The elder Miss Cartwright ventured no opinion. James, realising this must be a subterfuge, put his hand over Martha’s to warn her. She looked horrified, but sat silent. Richard watched quietly, turning his wine glass around and around on the table. He never spilled a drop, although I doubt he was aware he was doing it. The air filled with noisy speculation, except for the minister and his daughter. She sat next to him, her head down, gripping her table knife. It was impossible to guess at her thoughts, she sat so still in her place.
“A servant—it must have been a servant,” Miss Cartwright said.
“Not necessarily,” Richard answered. “It could have been anyone.”
I glanced at the footman standing a little behind his chair, but I saw no sign of any emotion on his face. Still, it would be all around the servants’ hall by bedtime, and since we had decided that the knowledge must enter the public domain, it must help us in our quest.
Mr. Pritheroe was the only person who still ate, and he showed no signs of letting up, but he could talk and eat, as he had shown us so graphically before. “Whoever did this thing flouted the will of God. We were within hours of breaking the entail and making this house a house of God.”
Richard turned to him, every sign of interest on his face. I had learned not to trust that look. When he took a real interest in something, he didn’t quirk a brow in quite
that way and the gleam of mischief was absent from his eyes. “Is that what you would have done?”
“It was always intended that this house would become a centre for the religion some people called Prithism.” I heard Lizzie giggle. Pritheroe ignored her. “We could have brought more people to the Word, and saved more souls in time for Armageddon.”
And lived in luxury while you did it, I thought, but I wasn’t bold enough to say it.
“I have always considered this as a temporary setback. I trust in the Lord. I know He will find a way.”
“God helps those who help themselves.”
The preacher stiffened in response to Gervase’s remark. “Are you suggesting I did this dreadful thing, sir?”
“No, of course not,” said Gervase. “There’s no reason on earth why you should want the last two earls dead—is there?”
“Sir.” Pritheroe’s vehement response released some of his dinner back to where it came from—his plate. I looked away in disgust. “They were my benefactors, and God fearing people.”
He addressed himself to his plate again. I hoped the exercise would be beneficial to him.
Martha hastily turned the conversation to other things, but my announcement had its effect. The trap had been set.
Later during the evening when Richard had the chance of a quiet word with me, he murmured, “Now—we watch.”
Chapter Eighteen
We watched. All the next day at least one of us stayed in the sunny room in sight of the little parlour. Lizzie and I spent a lot of time there, with some sewing so Martha couldn’t accuse us of being idle.
My sister took the opportunity to castigate my rashness. “You should have waited, Rose. Who knows what delights await us, with this change in our fortunes? We have new people to meet, much to see. You’ll have saddled yourself with a husband and a scandal.”
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