by Anne Herries
He smiled and bent his head to kiss her briefly on the lips. Sarah watched him walk from the room, feeling a sense of loss. John loved her, she knew he loved her—so why was he leaving her alone so often? For one second she wondered if Mrs Raven’s tale of his having a mistress could be true, but then she dismissed it, crushing it ruthlessly, before it could take root in her mind. Despite the insinuations, the malicious gossip and Sir Andrew’s odd tales, she would not let her mind be poisoned against John.
Sarah thought about John’s first wife, recalling what he had told her and the things that Sir Andrew had hinted at, but not said in so many words. Just what kind of a man would tell a new bride such a chilling tale about her new home? It was almost as if he had wanted to frighten her…
There was no use in dwelling on it! Sarah did not feel like sitting alone in the large, formal drawing room. She decided that she would go to her own apartments and read until she felt ready for bed.
She sat down in a chair by the window, looking out at the garden for a few minutes before she began to read. She had just picked up her book when she heard a sound…the thin wail of a terrified child! This time she was quite certain of what she had heard. It was not in the least windy out and she was wide awake.
Now was her opportunity to see if she was imagining things. She walked to the nursery, meeting June as she reached the door.
‘Is the boy crying?’ she asked.
‘No, ma’am, he is fast asleep,’ June said. ‘Come in and look for yourself.’
Sarah followed her into the nursery, which was lit by one small candleglass, which shed a pale golden light over the room. Nathaniel was lying on his back, one chubby fist against his cheek, his eyes closed.
Sarah glanced at the boy’s nurse and nodded. They crept out of the room again. Seeing that June was curious, Sarah hesitated and then told her that she had heard a child’s cry.
‘Where did it come from, ma’am?’ she asked. ‘Was it above your head—or in the main section…or perhaps the East Wing?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah said, ‘but I do know that it was not a ghost, June. I do not believe that an unquiet spirit walks this house. I believe there is child here somewhere.’
‘I have not heard it,’ June said, ‘but I am in the nursery most of the time. There are attics above you, Mrs Elworthy. I think once they were used for some of the servants, though they have been disused for years. We are housed in the east wing for the main part these days, as you know.’
‘I shall speak to Mrs Raven,’ Sarah said. ‘But I have heard the child at least twice now, June—and I am not imagining things.’
‘I would never think it, Mrs Elworthy,’ June said and smiled. ‘I wondered if it might have been the wind last night; one often hears strange noises when it is dark—but it is still light out. If you heard something then I think there must be a child other than Nathaniel in the house.’
‘Yes, so do I,’ Sarah said. ‘I shall speak to Mrs Raven about it at once.’
She went downstairs, knocking at the housekeeper’s door. It was a moment or two before the housekeeper opened it to her.
‘Yes, ma’am? Did you ring? I am sorry I did not hear.’
‘I did not wish to drag you upstairs,’ Sarah said. ‘A few minutes ago I heard a baby crying. Nathaniel is sound asleep—do any of the maids have a child in the house?’
‘No, I should not allow that,’ Mrs Raven said. ‘At least, I might in certain circumstances—but the girl would have to ask permission before she brought the child here.’
‘And no one has?’
‘No one has even suggested it, ma’am.’ Mrs Raven’s gaze narrowed. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t just the wind? These old house make strange noises at times. The late mistress…’
‘Yes, I know Andrea thought an unquiet spirit haunted the house,’ Sarah said, a sharp note in her voice, ‘but I do not believe in such nonsense, Mrs Raven. I know what I heard. It was a child—not the wind and not a ghost.’
Mrs Raven gave her an odd look. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I do not know of a child other than Mr Elworthy’s boy. If you are sure you heard it, I shall make inquiries.’
‘No, in this instance that will not do,’ Sarah said. ‘I understand there are attics above me that were once used for servants?’ Mrs Raven nodded, a wary expression in her eyes. ‘Then I shall ask Alfie to accompany me while I make a search.’
‘Are you sure that is wise, ma’am?’ the housekeeper asked and looked nervous. ‘Perhaps you should leave it until the morning?’
‘Oh, no, Mrs Raven. I am not frightened easily,’ Sarah said. ‘Someone is trying to make me think this house is haunted, but I am not going to have nightmares or start wandering in my sleep. I intend to discover the truth.’
She went back to the hall, where Alfie was sitting in his porter’s chair as he did until late every evening. He got to his feet as she told him what she wanted, picking up a branch of candles in his left hand.
‘I am with you, Mrs Elworthy,’ he said. ‘Lucy—she’s the parlour maid—well, told me she thought she heard crying the other night, proper upset she was. I told her she was dreaming or imagining things—but if you heard it too, then it sounds as if there is more than one child in the house…’
‘Can you show me where the attic rooms are, Alfie?’
‘Yes, Mrs Elworthy. It is easy enough to get to them, for there is a stairway. When the house had thirty or more servants they were in regular use, but as you know these days the maids use the rooms on the top floor of the east wing.’
‘Let us go and see what we can find,’ Sarah said. She followed him up to the west wing and to the end of the landing, discovering a set of stairs behind a door, which she had not known was there. It was dark on the stairway, which was why Alfie had come prepared with his candles. When they reached the top, Sarah saw that the attic had been divided into what looked like small cubicles, divided by wooden partitions with, in most cases, just a curtain to provide some privacy. The air was musty, hot and stifling. ‘How awful this is,’ she said to the footman. ‘I think it was most unfair to expect girls to live in these conditions. It must have been terribly hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter.’
‘Servants had to sleep where they could in the old days,’ Alfie told her. ‘Some of them had nowhere but the kitchen floor in the times these houses were first built. There was no privacy nor comfort for a servant then, Mrs Elworthy.’
‘I am very sorry for it,’ Sarah said, making a mental note to discover the state of the rooms their servants occupied now and do what she could to improve them. ‘Listen…’ Alfie had turned to her and she knew he had heard the murmuring noise that she had heard coming from a room at the far end.
Alfie held his candles aloft, a grim look on his face. He walked to the end of the row of cubicles, pulling back the flimsy curtain to reveal a woman holding a child of perhaps three years. She looked up with a startled expression on her face, fear coming to her eyes as she saw Sarah. She got to her feet, her head raised as she looked at her.
‘I know I shouldn’t have done it,’ she said. ‘My aunt will be furious when she finds out. I didn’t tell her, Mrs Elworthy. She wouldn’t have let me bring her here, but there was nowhere else. He said he would take her away. I was afraid that he would hurt her if I didn’t do what he wanted and—’ She broke off on a sob. ‘I know I’ve done things I shouldn’t. I put that shift in the armoire and sprinkled the late mistress’s perfume all over the room, and I’ve done other things, things I’m ashamed of—but he gave me money when she needed the doctor and he made me do it…’
‘You certainly shouldn’t have brought the child up to this awful place,’ Sarah agreed, looking round her in disgust. It was thick with dust and smelled of mice. ‘I am not surprised she has been crying. Why didn’t you take her to your own room?’
‘I thought I should be dismissed…’ Ruth stared at her, her eyes wet with tears. ‘I’ve nowhere to go but the road. People won’t employ a w
oman with a child. She was so ill as a baby and I thought I could settle here.’
‘You shouldn’t have done what you did, Ruth,’ Sarah said and gave her a straight look. ‘But I am certainly not going to dismiss you for having a child. You need at least two rooms to call your own. I believe there are plenty of spare rooms in the nursery wing. Ask Mrs Raven to sort it out for you. I am sure that June and Mary would be willing to keep an eye on your daughter while you are working. What do you call her?’
‘Her name is Deborah,’ Ruth said. She looked at Sarah uncertainly, not quite sure whether she had heard right. ‘Are you saying I can stay here? You are not turning me off?’
‘Yes, of course you may stay. Why not? All I ask is that you do your work properly and willingly.’ Sarah smiled at her. ‘I am very glad to have cleared that little mystery up. Tell me, when did you bring Deborah here?’
‘Only two days ago. I had lodged her with an old woman who takes care of children for working girls, but I was afraid that something might happen to her.’
‘Yes, I see, that explains something,’ Sarah said, but it did not explain why Andrea had thought she’d heard a child crying. But perhaps John’s first wife had been a vulnerable girl with darker things on her mind. ‘Take Deborah with you and go to your aunt, Ruth. Tell her that I have given permission for the child to stay here. I shall want to talk to you again about this, but it will do tomorrow. You will be busy settling into your new rooms this evening.’ She turned and nodded to Alfie. ‘You can see me down the stairs and then come back and help Ruth if you will.’
‘Yes, Mrs Elworthy.’
Alfie went ahead of her down the stairs. When she reached the main landing it was much lighter and she was able to make her way along the hall to her own rooms.
Sarah was thoughtful as she went to bed that night. She was glad to have sorted Ruth’s problems out, but who had threatened to harm her child if she did not do as he asked? She thought that she might have taken a step towards discovering the identity of John’s enemy—and she had her suspicions concerning Andrea’s death.
Chapter Eleven
When Sarah rose she discovered that John had been home for a while during the night, for his bed had been slept in, though he was not there and his things had been left on the floor. His valet came in just as she bent to pick up a shirt he had discarded. It was only the second time they had met, for Harris had arrived the previous day.
He frowned as he saw what she was doing. ‘Leave that to me, Mrs Elworthy. I shall soon have this right. I have been down to the boot-boy’s room, to complain about the state of the master’s boots. I wished to make it clear that I shall be looking after them in future. They have been sadly neglected.’
‘Yes, I am sure they have, Harris,’ Sarah said with a smile and placed the shirt over a chair. John’s manservant was already a presence in the house, and she had noticed that Mrs Raven seemed to have pulled herself up since he arrived, suspecting that there was a gentle rivalry between the two. ‘Have you seen my husband this morning?’
‘No, ma’am. I placed hot water in his bedchamber last evening, and it had been used when I came to wake him this morning. He was clearly in a hurry to leave. I believe someone came with a message for him. I think he must have dressed in a hurry, for he did not ring for me.’
‘Yes, so I see. It must have been important for him to go off so suddenly,’ Sarah said and smiled. ‘I think it is a good thing that you have come, Harris. My husband needs a man to take care of him.’
‘Yes, just so, Mrs Elworthy. We shall soon have his wardrobe in better shape.’
‘I am sure that I may rely on you,’ Sarah said and returned to her own room. She found Ruth there and frowned as she saw the girl lay something on the bed. ‘Is that for me, Ruth?’
‘I wanted you to see these, Mrs Elworthy,’ Ruth said. ‘They are letters from the late Mrs Elworthy to her father. I was asked to leave them in your room, hide them in drawers so that you came upon them by accident—but I didn’t want to do that, because they are horrible. I thought that if I gave them to you and told you why, it would be best, but you weren’t here and I wasn’t sure what to do…’
‘Have you read them?’
‘I read one,’ Ruth said hesitantly. ‘It would be best if I destroyed them for they are wicked, slanderous things and no one should see them—but perhaps you ought to see them, Mrs Elworthy.’
‘What did the letter you read say?’ Sarah asked, picking up the little bundle. ‘What is so terrible that you think they should be destroyed?’
‘The one I read accused Mr Elworthy of hating her,’ Ruth said. ‘She can’t have been right in the head, Mrs Elworthy. She writes that he wants her dead so that he can be free…that he is unkind to her…’
‘I am sure that is not true,’ Sarah said. ‘My husband would never have been deliberately unkind.’
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Ruth told her. ‘He made me bring them, said that he would take Deborah away from me and that I would never see her again. He told me that I must make you think that the master had a secret mistress and that it was me. I said things to you, ma’am, and I regret it if I distressed you. Deborah is all I have, Mrs Elworthy. I had to bring the letters, and I had to hide her in the attics.’
‘No, your insinuations did not upset me, for I did not believe them.’ Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘I do not believe that my husband would betray me. Nor do I think he betrayed Andrea. He is too fine a man for that.’ Sarah smiled at her. ‘But tell me, is your daughter settling down in your new rooms?’
‘Oh, they’re lovely, Mrs Elworthy. I’ve never had such a nice place to put her since her father disappeared. Mr Palmer always used to look after me…’ She hesitated, and then, ‘He told me that Mr Elworthy murdered Richard, but I think he was lying to get me to do what he wanted. He wanted Mr Elworthy punished, and he made me hide her things in his room so that he would find them and think she was haunting him. When you came here he said I was to do the same to you, and I did the first night, but I knew you would dismiss me if I did it again, and I wanted to stay.’
‘Mr Palmer…’ Sarah frowned—she vaguely recalled hearing that the Earl of Cavendish, her brother and some others had kidnapped a Mr Palmer and made him confess to his part in her abduction. ‘When did your lover go missing, Ruth?’
‘It was more than two years ago now,’ Ruth said and sighed. ‘I think he must be dead, Mrs Elworthy, for he would not have left us to starve. I think he was mixed up in some kind of trouble. He wasn’t my lover, more my protector, ma’am. We had an arrangement and when I had the child he promised me that he would look after us. He used to visit with presents for her and money for me even after the rest of it was over. He was a real gentleman.’ Her eyes held regret and wistful memories.
‘I know that a Mr Palmer was sent to the West Indies at about that time,’ Sarah said. ‘I think John may have known about it, my brother certainly did—but it wasn’t a case of murder. Mr Palmer helped them solve a mystery and in return they sent him overseas to escape an enemy.’
‘You think that he may still be alive?’ Ruth looked at her hopefully. ‘I am sure he wouldn’t have forgotten us…but I moved away. I couldn’t afford the rent of the house. If he sent money later, I wouldn’t have been there to receive it.’ She narrowed her gaze. ‘I didn’t think to go back and see if anything had come for me, because he said that Richard had been murdered by Mr Elworthy and his friends.’
‘I assure you that my brother and his friends did not murder anyone, Ruth. I shall ask John for more information—but you keep speaking of someone making you do these things, of someone who clearly hates my husband. Who is this person?’ Sarah had her suspicions, but she wanted to hear it from Ruth.
Ruth looked at her uncertainly, fear in her face. ‘If he finds out I’ve told you, he will kill me.’
‘No, he will not,’ Sarah said, ‘for he will be in prison. Someone has tried to kill John…when we were in Scotland he was fired a
t, but from such a distance that we could not see who it was.’
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Ruth said. ‘But the person who gave me the letters was her father. Sir Andrew. He was the one who made me hide those things in Mr Elworthy’s room—and he wanted me to do the same to you. I didn’t want to do it, Mrs Elworthy, and that was when he threatened me.’
‘I see…’ A little shiver ran down Sarah’s spine. She could easily believe Andrea’s father capable of sending the spiteful letters and forcing Ruth to hide his daughter’s correspondence in order that Sarah would find them and read them. Yes, that made perfect sense. It was the reason he had tried to plant his stories of a ghost in her mind. ‘Thank you, Ruth. I shall think about what you have said. In the meantime I hope you will be happy working for us, but if you want to discover if money has been left for you somewhere, perhaps my husband can help you.’
‘I could give you the address of the house he used to rent for me in York, Mrs Elworthy.’
‘Do that and we shall make inquiries for you,’ Sarah said. She smiled at Ruth. ‘Run along now and do whatever you have to. Mr Elworthy will be shown the letters and told of what you have said, and perhaps he will be able to sort out this mess.’
She sat down on the edge of the bed after Ruth had left, beginning to read through the letters. The sweet perfume that Andrea had used still clung to them, slightly overpowering in itself. As she began to see what was written, she realised that they were clearly the product of a deluded mind, for they rambled and did not make sense. In one letter Andrea went from telling her father how kind John had been to her that morning, changing suddenly into dark, meaningless scribble that accused him of torturing her with a crying child and wanting her to die. But the others made wicked accusations concerning John that made Sarah feel upset and angry. She did not believe any of it was true. John could never do these things!
Sarah stared at the handwriting. Something struck her as odd, because they had gradually grown less and less legible, as if the person who had written them was ill…or was it possible that they had not all been written by the same hand?
