“It is a real puzzle, that is for sure,” Constable Morris said. “No one with a motive, no angry former staff member. But more investigation is likely to bring something to light.”
“It is to be hoped,” said the Duchess. “I cannot have my household continuously in an uproar.”
“Quite so,” the constable agreed. “Thank you so much for the delicious dinner, Your Grace. Mr. Rudge, do tell your young undercook that he is coming along famously and might soon rival his mentor. If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I shall toddle along and make some inquiries in various places. Hopefully, someone will have an idea as to what is going on. No need to get up, Mr. Wilson, I can see myself out.”
With that, the constable went his way. By then, everyone was exhausted, so it was not long before the same two stout footmen carried Mayson back downstairs to bed.
Evelyn did the clearing up, sending the trays of dirty dishes off with the maids. She helped the Duchess retire to her bed, then retreated to staff territory. She looked in on Mayson, but he was already fast asleep, so she went to her room and prepared for bed.
As she stared up into the darkness, Evelyn wondered why these things were happening. There simply did not seem to be any logical reason for any of it. Yet it all seemed to center around the kitchen, and Mayson. There is a connection there, she thought.
If I could just put the pieces together.
Chapter 35
Evelyn awoke with a sense of unease. It was still pitch black, and the house was very still. Something was not right.
Evelyn swung her feet out of her bed, pushing them into her soft house slippers. She then shrugged into her robe, and walked quietly to the door. That was when she smelled smoke.
Evelyn hurried out of her room, and hastened down the hall, pounding on doors as she passed to rouse the household.
Mr. Wilson met her at the head of the stairs leading down to the kitchen. Thick smoke coiled up the stairwell.
“Mayson!” Evelyn cried out, flying down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her. When she pushed her way into the kitchen, she beheld a macabre sight.
A large chunk of something unidentifiable hung from the roasting spit. Jemmy was sprawled on the floor, his hair perilously near the flames in the fireplace. The fire, instead of burning low as was customary at night, blazed ferociously, while thick smoke billowed out from it and filled the room.
Mr. McElroy hitched himself along on his side, making a valiant effort to pull Jemmy away from the conflagration.
Evelyn ran to help Mr. McElroy while Mr. Wilson ran to the washing up trough, where he scooped up a huge pot of water. He staggered back with it and poured it over the burning mass in the fireplace, causing it to hiss and sputter before going out.
Although the immediate danger was quelled, thick clouds of smoke and steam continued to billow through the kitchen.
“I’ll check on Mayson,” Evelyn said, hastening to the door of his small sleeping chamber.
Here, she was horrified to find another smoldering mass, this one on Mayson’s bedside rug. The small room was filled with smoke, and flames were beginning to lick at the edge of the bedspread.
Evelyn whipped the coverlet off the bed, tamping it down on the smoldering mess on the rug. Deprived of air, the fire went out, but the thick clouds of smoke continued to waft from the bundle of charred fabric.
Bruce entered, carrying a large pot of water, dumping it over the smoking mass on the floor. This added billows of steam to the thick smoke.
Evelyn began to cough, tears streaming down her face, but she hurried to Mayson. He seemed to be heavily asleep, his breathing labored and harsh.
Mr. Wilson, and another footman hurried after Bruce. “It is the smoke,” Mr. Wilson said. “Let us have him up and out of here.”
Not bothering to wait for the other footman, Mr. Bruce pulled Mayson into a sitting position, and slung him up over his shoulder. He staggered a bit under the weight, but managed to get himself and Mayson out the door, then out the back kitchen door into the cleaner outside air. Evelyn, the other footman, and Mr. Wilson hurried after them.
They were met at the back door by the head gardener and the head stableman who helped ease Mayson down onto the ground.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Bruce commented. “Solid, too, not like most cooks.”
Evelyn scarcely paid him any heed at all, kneeling down beside Mayson. “Someone send for Dr. Alton,” she cried.
Mrs. Henshaw appeared at her elbow with a basin of water and a soft cloth. “Turn him on his side so that he does not choke,” she directed. “Then bathe his face, especially around the nose. It won’t help what’s already gone inside, but it will help clear the remains from his face and perhaps wake him up.”
Evelynn did as she was directed, silently weeping as she wiped the smoke stains from Mayson’s face. Dip, wring, wipe, repeat. Until Mayson stirred with a groan, and caught Evelyn’s hand.
“What is happening?” he asked. “Why am I outside?”
“Someone tried to set fire to the kitchen and to your room,” Evelyn replied. “I was afraid that you were not going to wake up.” She gulped back a sob, and tried to smile.
“Would it matter to you?” Mayson asked.
“So very much,” Evelyn replied, sniffling. She wiped a hand across her face, smearing tears and soot.
Mayson caught her hand, and offered her back the cloth she had been using on his face. “Evelyn,” he said softly. “Is anyone nearby?”
Evelyn looked around. Most people were focused on getting the smoke out of the kitchen and cleaning up the mess from the fires.
“Not at the moment,” she said. “Why?”
“I think I know what is going on,” he said. “I spoke with my friend, the magistrate, about proving that I am the rightful heir. I thought I had been discreet, but someone must have discovered that I am attempting to take up my inheritance.”
Evelyn sucked in a deep breath. “You think you are the target?”
He nodded. “It makes sense. The chair that broke is the one that I usually sit in. If I had not become restless and pushed away from the table, I would have been under that iron rack. The cellar steps were greased and someone had loosened a stone. Now this. I need to leave, Evelyn, before someone gets hurt.”
“But where will you go? What will you do?” Evelynn asked.
“For right now, he is not going anywhere or doing anything,” Dr. Alton said firmly, “Except to one of the upstairs rooms where the air is not filled with smoke. If you do not develop pneumonia from this night’s work, Mr. Rudge, it will be a miracle.”
Dr. Alton knelt down on the other side of Mayson, and began listening to his chest, using an ear trumpet.
“There’s a rattle in there that I do not like,” the physician commented. “No, no, do not try to get up. We will pad a table and use that to carry you up to one of the guest chambers. Constable Morris has some men coming from London. In the meanwhile, two watchers will be at your door day and night. We will have no more of this nonsense.”
“How is Jemmy?” Evelyn asked.
“He will do. He will have quite a headache tomorrow, but he is in better shape than Mr. Rudge. Meanwhile, the Duke is sending two cooks down from the main estate to man the kitchens since we are now down three helpers.”
“Three?” Evelyn squeaked.
“Three,” Dr. Alton confirmed. “Someone managed to make off with Mr. McElroy’s wooden leg, and added it to the fire in the kitchen.”
“That is dreadful!” Evelyn exclaimed. “How could anyone be so full of anger or hate as to burn a one-legged man’s wooden leg?”
“It is an amazing thing how many bitter, angry people there are in the world,” Dr. Alton replied, not at all unkindly. “Ah, here are the footmen, the gardener, and the stableman with the table-top. We shall have you up to a guest room and more comfortable before you know it, Mr. Rudge. Mrs. Henshaw has directed the maids to put a tin bathtub in your guest quarters, and we s
hall have that soot off you and you into a fresh nightshirt. No, no, do not protest. We must have the miasma from that room off you so that you can breathe more easily.”
Evelyn started to follow the men carrying Mr. Rudge.
“Bide a moment,” Mr. Alton said. “I caught a little of what Mr. Rudge was telling you, but I assure you that I will keep it in confidence. But because of it, we will keep a guard on his room. It is just bad luck that this should all happen before the men that Constable Morris has requested have come from London.”
“Thank you for keeping still about it,” Evelyn said. “He is worried that he is the cause of all these things.”
“I’ll not deny they seem to center around him,” Dr. Alton agreed. “But he is scarcely the cause. As you pointed out, it takes someone who is truly depraved to create an incident such as this. Had you not awoken the house, you could all have been burned alive in your beds.”
“That certainly seems excessive for keeping someone from claiming their inheritance,” Evelyn said, giving a little shudder.
“Indeed it does,” the physician agreed. “Go, get yourself cleaned up, and visit with the Duchess, who is, no doubt, in a nervous fervor over this. When we have Mr. Rudge all clean and in his bed, you can come in and see him. By then, I vow, the Duchess will be able to spare you to sit with him for a time.”
“But…” Evelyn started to protest.
“No, no, do as I ask, Mrs. Swinton. The Duchess is upset, and I would prefer not to have two invalids on my hands this day.”
“Very well,” Evelyn agreed. She went to her room and shivered through washing her hands and face, then changing into a clean chemise, petticoats, and a simple day gown. She had to own that she felt far more capable than she had a few minutes before, and mentally thanked Dr. Alton for his kindness.
When she went to the Duchess, she found that she was, indeed, in quite a state. Betty was with her, looking the worse for wear with a smudge of soot on her nose, and her normally pristine cap eschew.
“I am here, Betty,” Evelyn said.
“How is he, Mrs. Swinton?” the Duchess asked at once. “How are all of them?”
“Mr. Rudge was awake and talking when I last saw him, Your Grace. According to Dr. Alton, Jemmy has escaped with nothing worse than an aching head. Mr. McElroy was uninjured except for straining his weak arm, but will have difficulty getting about until someone makes him a new leg.”
“Such dreadful, dreadful goings on!” the Duchess exclaimed. “Betty, thank you, child. You have done very well. Go get cleaned up, and get some rest. Mrs. Swinton will do for me now.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Betty acquiesced, curtsied, and departed.
“How is he, really?” the Duchess asked.
“I am not sure, Your Grace. It is certain that he swallowed a great deal of smoke. Dr. Alton looked very grave, but wants to get him into a warm bath and get all the smoky garments off him. Mr. Wilson has placed him in one of the guest chambers. Is that all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” the Duchess replied. “It would be difficult to care for him in one of the servant rooms. I have no idea why they were made so small. George and I often spoke of making them larger. But it takes a great deal of money to make changes in a house this old.”
“Did you always live here?” Evelyn asked, hoping to take the older lady’s mind off the near-tragedy that had just occurred.
“Not always,” the Duchess smiled. “We lived in the Main House when we were first married, and George’s mother lived here until her death. She was a stern old lady, very proper. She and Mrs. Henshaw got on a treat. It was very awkward for me, because Mrs. Henshaw, to this day, does not always remember that I am not her youthful charge.”
“That is the problem with those who remember us as children,” Evelyn agreed. “But there is no one I would rather have about in an emergency. She always knows just what needs to be done.”
“Well, well,” the Duchess gave a little laugh, “She has had plenty of practice at looking after me and mine. She was my nurse, then my personal maid, then she was Darrius’s nurse until he grew old enough to need a manservant and tutor instead. How is she holding up under all of this?”
“Admirably,” Evelyn replied. “While Mr. Wilson and the footmen dealt with the fire and smoke, she was busy organizing a padded table and a room for Mr. Rudge. Now, what can I do for you, Your Grace? I know this is well past your usual bedtime.”
“Well, we can hardly send down to the kitchen for tea, now can we?” The Duchess made a grim attempt at humor.
“No, indeed. But it is just possible that Mrs. Henshaw has some tea brewing somewhere. Shall I call her?”
The Duchess gave a nod, almost like a frightened child who truly does need her nanny.
In just a few minutes, Mrs. Henshaw appeared, looking as pristine and calm as ever. At Evelyn’s inquiry, she smiled. “To be sure, we do have some tea brewing in the servants’ dining hall. And Mr. Wilson has some spices put by in the butlery. Dr. Alton is still in the house, so I shall ask him if you can have something a little stronger to help you sleep.”
With that, the housekeeper went off to make inquiries. Evelyn went about the room, tidying up various bits of this and that, straightening tables and clearing off the tea table.
In good time, Mrs. Henshaw came back with a tea tray laden with a teapot, a tray of biscuits, and a bottle of red wine.
“Dr. Alton recommended a bit of wine and some wafers,” Mrs. Henshaw explained. “Just put the tray with the service into the hall when you are finished with it, Mrs. Swinton, and someone will come for you when Mr. Rudge is made tidy and tucked into bed.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Henshaw,” Evelyn said. As she poured the tea and a glass of wine for the Duchess, she worried and fretted, but tried to keep her fears off her face. As Dr. Alton had said, it would not be an advantage to have two invalids to look after.
Chapter 36
Bruce and one of the other footmen acted as body servants for Mayson. He found himself efficiently divested of his smoke-stained nightwear, and gently lowered into a tub of warm water where he was briskly, but not unkindly, scrubbed from one end to the other.
The steam from the water began to clear his head, and by the time they had him settled between clean sheets in the wide bed of the guest chamber, he was feeling far wider awake and alert.
Dr. Alton settled on one edge of the bed, listened to his chest through an ear trumpet, took out a large watch, and held his thumb on his wrist while he counted under his breath.
“Now then, my boy,” Dr. Alton said, “You’ll be going nowhere for a time. You will have pleurisy of this, if not pneumonia. But in just a few minutes, you would have had worse if not for Mrs. Swinton’s quick thinking. Indeed, were it not for her, in a few minutes, the village would have been up here doing a bucket brigade and come morning, we’d have been sifting the ashes for your bones.”
“What if there are other traps?” Mayson asked.
“Bruce and the other footmen are searching the house from cellar to attic to discover that very thing, Mr. Rudge. We’ll have no more of this tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” Mayson asked.
“Tomorrow, we shall see. I caught a little of what you were telling Mrs. Swinton. If you left home for the reasons I am thinking on, then you surely knew this would not be easy.”
“I knew that,” Mayson replied. “But I did not think it would go so far as to endanger others.”
Dr. Alton sighed. “No more did anyone else. And considering the state of a certain place, I am sure that you had the best intent. But we scarcely know what our actions might put in motion.”
Mayson sighed, and said nothing.
Dr. Alton patted his arm. “You rest easy now tonight. Let others see to things. I will go see the Duchess now, and send Mrs. Swinton in to see you. If I do not, she will fret herself into a fever, I doubt not.”
With that, the physician let himself out of the room, leaving Mayson to look about him in
the gloom. A small fire crackled on the hearth behind a screen, emitting a pleasant aroma of good oak wood. The candle on the nightstand beside the bed smelled of beeswax and vanilla. No tallow candles or warmed bricks for this room. It was intended for honored guests.
Perhaps not highly honored guests, Mayson thought. Though what he could see of the room was pleasant, it was small. Better than what I or any of the other servants have. There is something amiss with that.
But his ruminations went no further than that, for the door opened and Evelyn slipped in. She pulled a straight-backed chair up beside his bed and sat in it, putting out her hand for his. “Oh, Mayson! I thought I had lost you.”
“While I was doing no thinking at all. Evelyn, I fear I have set something dreadful in motion.”
Before I Was Yours, My Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 21
