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Authors: Donna Lea Simpson
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stay.”
A housekeeper did more than keep house, she kept secrets, both ignominious and monumental; making friends with her would be vital to discovering what was going on at Ivy Lodge and Darkefell Castle. “I don’t know who else to ask, and you know better than anyone, Mrs. Hailey,” Anne continued in a tone that she hoped subtly flattered the housekeeper and magnified the importance of her position. “Will there be room at Ivy Lodge’s stables for my equipage, or should I approach the Marquess about using his facilities?”
Mrs. Hailey blinked rapidly and then said, “The lodge stables are small, milady. If you wish your coachman and team to stay, you’ll need to keep them in the castle’s stable. I could have Andrew send a message to the marquess’s coachman, Varney, if it pleases you? He’ll consult with the marquess and tell us what may be done.”
“I would consider that a great favor, Mrs. Hailey.” Anne hesitated but then plunged in. “I’m still terribly shaken by that poor girl, Cecilia Wainwright’s, tragic death. I can only imagine what those of you who knew her must be suffering!”
“Terrible!” Mrs. Hailey said, then glanced toward the door and lowered her voice. “But not surprising.”
“Oh?”
“Considering how she did carry on with the gentlemen…” She trailed off with a significant nod and wink.
Anne watched her eyes. The woman’s words were deliberately meant to entice conversation. There was a ghoulish delight that sat ill with Anne but might prove useful to encourage. “Really? Do you not think her death the result of a wolf attack?”
“Humph!” she sniffed, jingling her chatelaine, from which dangled a glittering charm on a short gold chain, likely a gift from her employer for long service, or some such thing. “No wolves around here, no matter what the silly girls say.”
“I was told you were outside when I arrived last night, in the kitchen garden. Did you not hear a howl, as I did?”
The woman paled. “I did, but… but that was just one of the stable hounds, to be sure.”
“It didn’t sound like a dog to me. What were you doing out in the garden at that time of night?”
Mrs. Hailey bridled and clamped her mouth shut, but relented a moment later and said, “Lady John was a touch bilious. I went out with Cook to cut some mint and comfrey for a tisane, to settle her stomach.”
Anne leaned forward. “So who do you think killed Cecilia Wainwright?”
The housekeeper folded her arms over her chest. “Find out who the father of her baby is, I say, and you’ll find the murderer.”
It was not at all surprising that the housekeeper should be aware of Cecilia’s condition. Anne was just opening her mouth to ask who that might be when a shout echoed outside of the lodge, piercing even the thick walls, followed rapidly by an explosion that rattled the windows.
Five
“What was that?” Anne cried.
“Gardener,” Mrs. Hailey replied stoically. She sighed. “Her ladyship is creating a rockery, so Gardener is using that devil’s powder to shape a shelf of rock above the lodge.”
“Good heavens! I’ll go, now, Mrs. Hailey. I’m sorry to intrude on your day.”
“I’ll send the message to the castle stables about your carriage, ma’am.”
“Thank you. By the way,” Anne said as if it was an afterthought, “you conjectured the father of Cecilia’s child may have killed her—do you know who that is?”
Mrs. Hailey shook her head. “No, milady. Just giving my opinion.” Her eyes held a trace of belated wariness after her openness of moments before.
“Had you observed Cecilia with any particular young man?”
“D’you mean, Mr. Boatin, the last one to see ’er alive?”
Anne watched her eyes. A veiled satisfaction at having said the man’s name seemed to tremble through her rigid frame. “I understand they were friends?”
“Threw herself at ’im, she did,” the housekeeper said with a sniff.
“I see. And you didn’t
A housekeeper did more than keep house, she kept secrets, both ignominious and monumental; making friends with her would be vital to discovering what was going on at Ivy Lodge and Darkefell Castle. “I don’t know who else to ask, and you know better than anyone, Mrs. Hailey,” Anne continued in a tone that she hoped subtly flattered the housekeeper and magnified the importance of her position. “Will there be room at Ivy Lodge’s stables for my equipage, or should I approach the Marquess about using his facilities?”
Mrs. Hailey blinked rapidly and then said, “The lodge stables are small, milady. If you wish your coachman and team to stay, you’ll need to keep them in the castle’s stable. I could have Andrew send a message to the marquess’s coachman, Varney, if it pleases you? He’ll consult with the marquess and tell us what may be done.”
“I would consider that a great favor, Mrs. Hailey.” Anne hesitated but then plunged in. “I’m still terribly shaken by that poor girl, Cecilia Wainwright’s, tragic death. I can only imagine what those of you who knew her must be suffering!”
“Terrible!” Mrs. Hailey said, then glanced toward the door and lowered her voice. “But not surprising.”
“Oh?”
“Considering how she did carry on with the gentlemen…” She trailed off with a significant nod and wink.
Anne watched her eyes. The woman’s words were deliberately meant to entice conversation. There was a ghoulish delight that sat ill with Anne but might prove useful to encourage. “Really? Do you not think her death the result of a wolf attack?”
“Humph!” she sniffed, jingling her chatelaine, from which dangled a glittering charm on a short gold chain, likely a gift from her employer for long service, or some such thing. “No wolves around here, no matter what the silly girls say.”
“I was told you were outside when I arrived last night, in the kitchen garden. Did you not hear a howl, as I did?”
The woman paled. “I did, but… but that was just one of the stable hounds, to be sure.”
“It didn’t sound like a dog to me. What were you doing out in the garden at that time of night?”
Mrs. Hailey bridled and clamped her mouth shut, but relented a moment later and said, “Lady John was a touch bilious. I went out with Cook to cut some mint and comfrey for a tisane, to settle her stomach.”
Anne leaned forward. “So who do you think killed Cecilia Wainwright?”
The housekeeper folded her arms over her chest. “Find out who the father of her baby is, I say, and you’ll find the murderer.”
It was not at all surprising that the housekeeper should be aware of Cecilia’s condition. Anne was just opening her mouth to ask who that might be when a shout echoed outside of the lodge, piercing even the thick walls, followed rapidly by an explosion that rattled the windows.
Five
“What was that?” Anne cried.
“Gardener,” Mrs. Hailey replied stoically. She sighed. “Her ladyship is creating a rockery, so Gardener is using that devil’s powder to shape a shelf of rock above the lodge.”
“Good heavens! I’ll go, now, Mrs. Hailey. I’m sorry to intrude on your day.”
“I’ll send the message to the castle stables about your carriage, ma’am.”
“Thank you. By the way,” Anne said as if it was an afterthought, “you conjectured the father of Cecilia’s child may have killed her—do you know who that is?”
Mrs. Hailey shook her head. “No, milady. Just giving my opinion.” Her eyes held a trace of belated wariness after her openness of moments before.
“Had you observed Cecilia with any particular young man?”
“D’you mean, Mr. Boatin, the last one to see ’er alive?”
Anne watched her eyes. A veiled satisfaction at having said the man’s name seemed to tremble through her rigid frame. “I understand they were friends?”
“Threw herself at ’im, she did,” the housekeeper said with a sniff.
“I see. And you didn’t
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