A Grave Inheritance (31 page)

She slid in another pin. “That may be, miss, but I tell ye these Londoners are a strange lot.”

“Surely not all of them,” I teased. “Especially not a certain young footman.”

Beth blushed to her scalp. “He’s a fine young man, and doesn’t snub me like some of the other servants for being from the Colonies.”

“I’ve been snubbed a time or two myself.” I shrugged. “Different class, same prejudice.”

With the last hairpin secured, Beth started to weave a dark blue ribbon through the tamed curls. “From what I heard, that princess weren’t no friend of yers at the palace the other night, and if ye ask me, ’tis some nerve calling here to ask for help. Lucky for her, ye’ve been blessed with a kind and forgiving nature.”

I glanced at the gold and sapphire ring on the dressing table, in no way convinced of Beth’s assessment of my character. Feeling a tinge of guilt for the grudge I still harbored Amelia, I scooped up the ring and opened a drawer to stow it for the time being. As I nudged some of the other contents aside in search of a small leather pouch, I made a startling discovery.

“My knife is gone.”

Beth tucked the ribbon’s end from sight. “The one ye keep wrapped in the oilcloth?”

“Yes, have you seen it?” I pushed more items out of the way until the bottom of the drawer came into view.

“No, miss.” She stepped back and gave my hair an appraising look. “When did ye last have it?”

“The day Cate and I brought it to Mr. Faber’s shop. Once we returned home, I put the knife in the drawer before we left for the palace.” I paused for a moment, trying hard to recall if I had taken it out anytime after that night. Nothing came to mind, and I wondered if Cate had reason to borrow it. “Do you know if her ladyship is at home?”

Beth nodded. “Last I seen, she was overseeing the delivery of a new settee to her private chamber. Ye pulled the bell for me just as some clumsy lads were getting an earful for chipping a baluster.”

The knife was one of many reasons I needed to see Cate. Leaving Beth to straighten the dressing table and put my nightclothes away, I walked in the direction of the rooms located in the opposite wing. Female voices met me halfway, followed by laughter and the click of a door. Sophie appeared alone from the alcove that led to Cate’s chamber and walked toward me.

“May I help you, miss?” she asked, in a calm and pleasant tone that seemed incongruent coming from the girl who had so recently threatened my maid with physical harm.

“I need to speak with Lady Dinley.” I glanced over Sophie’s shoulder to the alcove. “Is she in her chamber?”

“Yes, miss. I just left her there myself.”

“Thank you, Sophie. Don’t let me keep you. I can announce myself.” I made to resume when she moved into my path, forcing me to a sudden stop and our faces within an inch of the other. To my surprise, the girl held her ground, and I had to move back to maintain a polite distance.

The near collision elicited nothing more than a kind look from Sophie. “Her ladyship is not receiving visitors at this time, miss. You may speak to her this evening.”

Absolute authority resided beneath the calm tone, which I found rather insolent coming from one who was no doubt my junior. “I’ve important matters to discuss with Lady Dinley. Surely, she won’t mind the interruption.” I started again, only to be set upon my heels a second time.

“Her ladyship is not to be disturbed,” Sophie said.

Good gracious!
What must a person do to get past this girl? “Can you at least tell her I need a private word?”

Sophie shook her head. “My mistress gave specific instructions not to be bothered for anything less than imminent death.” Concern marred her brow, in direct contradiction to the obvious amusement that lit her eyes. “Are you dying, miss?”

A caustic remark nearly escaped me. I stopped it at the last second, and forced a bit of honeyed sweetness in its place. “You’re a reasonable girl, Sophie. Do you think I would be standing here if I were actually dying?”

“Then come back before supper. Her ladyship will have time to see you then.”

“But she just went in there,” I said in a cajoling voice. “What is so important that she cannot be interrupted for a single minute?”

The amusement in Sophie’s eyes grew stronger. “She is seeing to the new settee, miss.”

It seemed a jest of the worst sort. I blinked. Then blinked again. “This must be an important piece of furniture. I shall try not to be offended.”

Sophie didn’t respond, though her eyes continued to speak volumes as she watched me.

So pleased I’ve amused you.

The girl was stubborn as an ox, and though weighing no more than eight stone, would be about as difficult to move as any real-life beast of burden. Short of a sudden life-threatening illness, she clearly had no intention of relenting.

The mask of patience strained over my mounting annoyance. “Very well, Sophie. I shall return when her ladyship has less important matters to see to.”

Pride alone kept me from slamming the door of my chamber. “Settee, indeed!” I said, giving full vent to my temper. “How dare that girl play the high and mighty gatekeeper with me?” I grabbed the small, square throw pillow from the armchair and hurled it across the room.By good fortune, Beth had already left and had not stood witness to my humiliation. It was one thing for a maid to set down another maid, but to do the same thing to a guest, and practically family at that, was intolerable. Even worse, this was the second time Sophie had effectively put me in my place. Judging by the amused look in her eyes, she had received some measure of enjoyment from the task.

What did I ever do to warrant such behavior?
The girl treated me like a child, despite my greater years. Fresh anger welled inside me, and having nothing more to throw other than the chair itself, I settled for pounding a fist into the thick padding.

“Insufferable brat!”

With a scowl and a few more mumblings, I strode to the window. Dark clouds blotched the sky, and rain pinged mercilessly against the glass panes. Any thoughts of a stroll or shopping to ease my temper fled in sight of Mother Nature’s dour mood. I huffed a breath and turned my back to the window, arms crossed over my chest. Cate was indisposed with a new settee. Nora had gone out with Margaret Fox. Henry couldn’t be expected for at least several more hours. Amelia may no longer despise me, but that did little to improve my immediate prospects.

Yet again, my choices were limited to hiding in my chamber, or seeking the companionship of Lucy Goodwin and whatever painfully dull excursion she had planned for today.

I opted to hide in my room.

While considering how best to fill the time, my gaze skimmed over several books on the bedside table, then came to a rest on my wooden writing case next to the dressing table. Correspondence was not the worst option, and I did owe letters to my friends Katrina Oswald and Allison Dowling back home. Resigned to the task, I moved toward the desk when my eyes suddenly found the wall panel next to the hearth.

My mouth pursed over the unexpected prospect. To be sure, it would be black as the devil’s cabinet in between the walls and equally unfamiliar. And heaven forbid that I run into someone unaware.

I tilted my head a little to the side and eyed the lines of the panel. It would also be a rousing adventure, and in truth, I could think of no better way to wile away the hours than exploring the hidden maze.

Impulse took over, propelling me forward before reason had a chance to intervene. At the mantel, I thrust a fresh candle into the fire, jammed it into a small brass holder, and tugged on the hidden lever.

The panel swung open, releasing a puff of cold, musty air. The small flame flickered in protest, but soon recovered. Staring into the darkness, my heart quickened as I contemplated the first step into essentially the unknown. Back home, darkness was a welcome friend that allowed me to move unobserved between Brighmor and the altar. Here, it could hold any manner of surprises.

This last thought should have scared me, or maybe brought on a more reserved emotion other than overwhelming anticipation. But I couldn’t help it. Faced with hours of boredom, and the need to show some sort of defiance in light of Sophie’s condescension, I stepped inside the wall and nudged the panel into place.

Velvety blackness surrounded me, pressing the candlelight to a few inches in front of my nose. I blinked several times in the hope that my eyes would adjust somewhat. Nothing changed, and for a moment I pondered fetching a lantern. But that would require a trip to the kitchen, and quite possibly another run-in with Sophie. The last thing I wanted was to have her snooping around, enquiring to my purposes. So instead, I focused on the insignificant light and started to walk forward, albeit slowly, toward the set of stairs I knew bridged the alcove.

The space was narrow by any estimation, unless leprechauns or other diminutive folk wandered Lady Dinley’s home undetected. My skirts brushed against the plaster and timbers, but being slender of shoulder, I could at least move without hunching forward like Henry must have been forced to do. From the heavy footfalls that had awakened me the other night, I possessed a decent understanding at what could be heard through the walls, and thanked my lucky stars for the soft-soled slippers I now wore in place of the usual heels.

Moving at a guarded pace, and with little means to judge the distance, the wall seemed to stretch far beyond its natural length.
It can’t be much farther—

My toe struck the first wooden tread a split second before I glimpsed the hulking shadow of the staircase. I sucked in a ragged breath, then bit down hard to keep from cursing. Once the pain abated to a dull ache, I turned from left to right to better assess my position. From where I stood, the stairs seemed to lead away from the center of the house, most likely to the tunnels Henry spoke of, and the abandoned well that served as an unmarked entrance. Based on this logic, the passage running to my right must have led deeper into the house to the other chambers.

I would have flipped a coin if I had one. Instead, I resorted to the time-tested methodology of the nursery rhyme. Keeping my voice to a low whisper, I rushed over the words, as my free hand pointed in time between the stairs and the passageway.

Ibble obble black bobble

Ibble obble out

Turn a dirty dishcloth inside out

Once if it’s dirty

Twice if it’s clean

Ibble obble black bobble

You

Are

Out

The rhyme ended with my finger pointing at the passageway. “So be it,” I said, and stepped up on the first tread.

Seconds later, I arrived at the landing where another decision waited; down the other side of the stairs or straight-ahead, across what I assumed to be the wide hallway dividing the chambers below. Rather than reciting more verse, I decided to go straight for no other reason than to avoid the tunnels and the risk of ruining my slippers if the ground happened to be muddy.

On the other side of the hallway, the passage turned sharply to the right, leading back toward the interior of the house. I followed along, until this too ended in a staircase. Descending to the bottom, I froze at the sound of voices—female for certain, though the muffled words eluded comprehension. From the distance traveled, the room belonged to either Nora or Lucy, and the voices were those of two housemaids.

I walked on tiptoes, hardly daring to breathe lest that insignificant noise give me away. Their voices faded after a minute, along with the anxiety of being caught like a mouse in a trap. A rush of pure excitement passed through me from the newfound ability to move around undetected. Encouraged by this first success, I pressed forward, more reckless than wise, until, in truth, I began to feel uneasy about how far I had traveled.

The most recent of several staircases stood some ten paces behind me. Grudgingly, I turned and began to retrace my steps, while making a mental accounting of the various twists and turns that had led to this point.

Over the stairs to the end of the passage, then a right turn and one to the left.
I paused to reflect, and gave my head a quick shake.
No, left first, then right to the next set of stairs. Follow the passage to—

My toe cracked against something hard. “Ahh!” I cried, as I stumbled forward headfirst. Instinct prevailed, and my hands shot out to break the fall. Stair risers came into view, then disappeared a second later when the candle fell to the ground, and I was plunged into total darkness.

I managed to stop before my face made contact with anything hard, though my shins were not so lucky. Wincing from the pain, I turned around, and planted my behind on one of the steps.

“Blast it all to hell!” I cursed, momentarily forgetting the need for silence.

Footsteps sounded nearby. I clamped my mouth shut, heart hammering as I waited for them to pass. No such luck. They drew closer and stopped right next to me.

Go away,
I silently pleaded.
Just keep walking—

A few sharp knocks rapped near my head. I jumped, bumping my elbow into the plaster.

“Did ye hear that, Joe?” a man asked, his excitement obvious, even through the wall. “That weren’t no mouse in there.”

“I ain’t heard nothing,” a gruff voice responded.

Knocks sounded again, though a little higher. This time not a muscle moved other than the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

“I swear I heard something,” the first man said. “Think we aught to tell her ladyship?”

I flinched from what sounded like a resounding slap to the head. “And let her know we ain’t fixed the baluster yet? Get away from that wall afore I crack yer nob.”

“But, there could be—”