Kay Springsteen (7 page)

The clang of iron on iron echoed off the stone wall of the pantry as Annabella nudged the pot with the fireplace poker. Nothing moved; not even so much as a nose poked from the dark reaches of the cooking receptacle. She pushed the poker through the handle and lifted but the iron wire slid off the end of the rod and the pot rolled away from her.

“
Devil
’
s fire,
”
she muttered beneath her breath as she inched closer and nudged it with her foot. Nothing moved, so she stooped to pick it up.

Annabella brushed a cobblestone the size of a teacup out of the way, then paused and drew her hand back with a frown. She
’
d seen no stones scattered about the floor the previous day. It must have come loose when the pot
had struck
the wall.

Goodness, the cottage appeared to be falling down around her. Annabella leaned forward and peered at the wall behind the barrel where she
’
d stored her food. Sure enough, the pot had scarred two of the stones and knocked one loose. A fourth stone hung on as though the least breath would cause it to tumble from
its place
. Should she move it? She reached out but halted. No. Best leave it alone. She could see the dark wood that formed the framework behind the stones and it looked solid enough.

Except it had an odd shiny appearance… Whoever had built Rose Cottage wouldn
’
t have polished the beams, would they? Curiosity piqued, Annabella poked at the brownish cobblestone. Sure enough, she no sooner touched it with the end of her finger when it dropped from its place in the wall and rolled several inches across the dusty floor.

Annabella shifted her gaze to the space behind the stone. Why, the bit of wood wasn
’
t part of the frame at all. The dark roughhewn beam was easily visible now that another saucer-sized stone was removed.

And so was the shiny wooden case nestled in the small hole in the wall. It was rectangular and looked to be roughly the size of her large valise, perhaps as long as her forearm and two hands deep.

“
Now, who would have left that here?
”
She pushed at another stone. Even though it
had appeared
well fixed in place, it dropped from the wall, bringing two of its mates crashing to the floor with it and revealing more of the wooden case. The familiar red and white shield bearing a lit torch flanked by a pair of crested doves made her heart stutter.

Annabella gasped.
“
The Duke of Wyndham
’
s coat of arms!
”

She reached for the case, pausing only slightly at the thought of the mice, but her curiosity was too great. She had to look inside that wooden box.

Two more stones blocked the way, but when she removed them, it was obvious they had been jammed into place without mortar
. Perhaps
in order to afford access to the box
?
She lifted the case, surprised to find it on the heavy side. Something chinked inside as she set it on the floor before her.

“
Why, it
’
s hardly dusty at all.
”
Annabella dragged a finger around the outline of the shield. What could possibly be inside?

She looked
back
at the
gaping hole
. Surely she should see through to the yard outside. But instead of sunlight spilling over the green lawn, gray and brown cobblestones held together with lavish amounts of mortar lay just inches inside the opening.

“
It
’
s a false wall!
”

A draft whispered through the hole she
’
d made, carrying with it the scent of impending rain. Was there another opening somewhere? Perhaps from the outside?

Is that how the mice are getting in?
She had to fill that hole. How had those stones been placed? She picked up the last one to have fallen and held it up to the wall. Obvi
ously, it fit near the bottom. She picked up another stone, then another. It was simple really, almost as easy as a child
’
s nursery puzzle. After a few moments, she
’
d patched the hole completely, though she could tell some of the stones were loose.

Except
for the slashes where the pot had struck, the wall might never have been broken.
How interesting, as though it had been planned that way. But who would have hidden the case in there?

She picked up the wooden box and stood
.
T
hen she used her hip to nudge the barrel in front of the break in the wall. Smiling at her own cunning, she walked from the pantry, leaving the poker and the cooking pot on the floor.

A flash of gray through the kitchen window signaled Abby
’
s arrival. Annabella quickly slid the wooden case beneath the nearest worktable and pushed it against the wall.

Only a moment later, the back door opened and the maid stepped across the threshold with a smile on her face, a straw basket looped over one arm, and a Prussian chocolate pot in her hand.
“
I had Cook lay out an extra scone,
”
she said as she set the china pot on the worktable. Painted-on pink roses decorated the front of the gold and white pot.

One of Mother
’
s favorites!
Annabella
’
s eyes stung at the reminder of her mother. They didn
’
t always a
gree but she did miss her terribly of late.

“
These are fresh — they
’
re still warm.
”
Abby lifted the basket and opened the linen napkins tucked into the top.

Annabella
’
s mouth watered, but she stiffened and caught her breath.
“
Did you tell her who it was for?
”

“
No, m
’
lady.
”
Abby shook her head.
“
You told me not to say anything.
”

The sweet aroma wafting on the air made Annabella
’
s stomach rumble. It was all she could do not to grab one of the sweet breads and stuff the whole thing in her mouth. Instead, she kept her hands at her sides, fisting them in the heavy material of her dress.
“
Thank you. I don
’
t want to worry my mother, as she surely will grow concerned if word reaches her that I
’
d altered my plans. Did Cook seem curious?
”

Abby
’
s sweet smile twinkled in her gray eyes.
“
Not at all, m
’
lady. I told her Lord Seabrook has a healthy… appetite.
”

Annabella
’
s heart stumbled. Had the slight hesitation before the maid completed her sentence meant something? A subtle expression of disapproval perhaps? But as Abby arranged the scones on the plate, she certainly didn
’
t seem to be showing any disrespect.

“
Would you like me to light a fire, m
’
lady? Good for makin
’
tea later.
”
Abby pointed at the copper cooking kettle and silver tea ball she
’
d pulled from the basket and set on the table. Abby was a true jewel! She
’
d thought of everything.

“
Oh…
”
A proper cup of hot tea… how long has it been?
“
Yes, please.
”

As Abby set about laying the fire, she looked over her shoulder.
“
Were the gowns I brought from your wardrobe not suitable, m
’
lady?
”

Annabella smoothed a hand over the dingy gray dress.
“
Oh, you did splendidly, thank you. I… merely have yet to find an opportunity to change into one.
”

“
Would you like some assistance, m
’
lady?
”

I would adore some assistance!
But she could ha
rdly wear her fine gowns with Seabrook in the cottage if she wanted him to believe she was a maid. So, the garments Abby had retrieved sat folded in the valise. Silently, she cursed the man who had invaded her hiding place, removed her from the only bed, and stolen her peace of mind with his presence. With an exasperated sigh, Annabella adjusted her bodice
to ease the pinching
.
“
Thank you, but I can manage.
”

“
Yes, m
’
lady.
”
Abby crossed her arms over her chest and surveyed the room, shaking her head and making a clicking sound with her tongue.
“
You can hardly go about eating amidst all this mess. You should have let me tidy up some yesterday like I was told.
”

Annabella jerked backward at the maid
’
s censoring tone, but Abby was already at work putting the kitchen to rights. Deftly, she chose a cleaning cloth from a stack on the rack near the door and shook it open. Then she wiped it across the top of the worktable. Dust swirled in the watery sunlight that flooded the room, but it soon settled.

Abby frowned as she glanced around.
“
Hmm…
”
She stuck her head into the pantry.

Holding her breath, Annabella leaned forward, watching the younger girl explore the small room, apparently without a qualm as to what she might find. Her gaze swept the room without the slightest hesitation over the barrel and Annabella eased out her breath.

What was in that case? As lonely as she
’
d been, as grateful for the food Abby had brought, Annabella began to wish she
’
d hasten to leave.

“
Ah-ha!
”
Abby stepped through the narrow pantry door, and when she returned she carried a tatty old broom. The bristles had long since passed their prime, but Abby seemed perfectly content with her discovery as she set the broom against the table.

After a moment of watching her, Annabella could contain herself no longer.
“
Er… was — was there anything — in there?
”

Abby
’
s motion faltered and she tilted her head to the side. Her forehead pinched into a dreadful frown.
“
What might I be looking for in there, m
’
lady?
”

“
A… um. A mouse, actually.
”

Abby
’
s eyes widened.
“
You have mice? I never considered that. Horrid creatures. Those
’
ll have to go.
”

“
I
’
ll let you invite them to leave,
”
said Annabella in a wry tone, staring into the pantry. Nothing scurried and she eased out a breath of relief.
“
They apparently don
’
t care to listen to me.
”

Abby chuckled.
“
What you need
’
s a good cat or two. There might be an old tom to be found in the stable.
”
She took up the broom and began pulling it across the floor in quick, neat swipes.

“
A cat!
”
Those horrid slitted eyes, their haughty manner. The way their tails twitched and snaked about. A shudder rippled through her, and Annabella violently shook her head.
“
Oh, no. No cats. What do you do at the main house? Surely Geoffrey doesn
’
t allow cats in the pantry.
”

The maid
’
s sweeping motions slowed as she appeared to consider the question.
“
Oh, when we spots a mouse in the main kitchen, Geoffrey sends to the stable for Stephen — one of the grooms.
”
Her face colored up as she mentioned the name.

A warm feeling stole over Annabella.
She fancies him… this groom, Stephen. How sweet.

“
You want I should ask if Stephen
’
ll come and see to them, m
’
lady? Sometimes Mr. Dawes
‘
as
‘
im running errands so likely
‘
e won
’
t be missed.
”