Chapter 14
O ver the next week, no sign of Captain McConnell was found, and the household fell into a strange new kind of normal.
Magistrate Carnbee had arrived some hours after Doctor Mills and stayed only long enough to drink the brandy that had been brought out to warm those who’d been searching for the captain all day in the cold.
Carnbee had harrumphed a bit around the drawing room, then harrumphed even louder when Mrs. McConnell declined to see him, citing her poor health. As he’d then gone on to loudly proclaim no crime had been committed and Captain McConnell had simply absconded for his own reasons, likely the attentions of another woman, it was just as well she hadn’t had to endure the magistrate’s miserable excuse of an investigation.
Even by Carnbee’s standards, it was a poor showing, but it wasn’t exactly as if Dominick could say, “Excuse me, sir, we’re pretty sure there has been a crime. No doubt you’ve heard the rumours about me tupping the earl? Oh good, you have. Well, we think someone might have taken against us for that, and the captain got it in the neck by accident instead of us.”
Instead they’d let the magistrate harrumph his way back down the road, drunker and more self-satisfied than when he’d arrived, but bringing them no closer to finding the missing captain—or his body.
In the face of her husband’s disappearance and possible murder, Dominick had expected Mrs. McConnell to spend several days recovering at the very least, but the next morning she’d been up and directing gardeners with firm orders. She’d even made the trek up the crag to supervise work on the folly.
For a woman who’d seemed so infatuated with her husband, she hid her loss well. Perhaps she was still clinging to the hope he was alive somehow, but as both she and Mrs. Hirkins had seen his body in the drawing room, Dominick couldn’t see how that was possible. Although he couldn’t see how a disappearing corpse was possible either.
Neither, it seemed, could many of the labourers hired to work on the gardens and folly. Each day, fewer and fewer turned up. Work was still being done, but not at the breakneck pace it had before.
Unfortunately, Gil didn’t seem to be having the same problem retaining workers. An army armed with buckets and cleaning cloths had overwhelmed Balcarres and only seemed to grow in numbers by the day. This morning alone, Dominick had been politely shooed from the stables, the dining room, and the entire east wing by scrub bucket-wielding invaders before finally finding refuge in the library.
He looked out the library window, watching Mrs. McConnell talk to one of the labourers in the garden below. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but whatever it was, the labourer didn’t seem happy about it. Despite the man towering over her, Mrs. McConnell remained resolute.
Finally she turned on her heel, discussion apparently over, and as she went, Janie trailed after. Dominick wasn’t sure what a lady’s’ maid was meant to do, but dogging Mrs. McConnell’s every step kept Janie out from under everyone else’s feet and, more importantly, ensured that none of the allegedly single men in the household ended up alone with the possible widow, so she was doing a fine job as far as he was concerned.
He was just thinking about going and bothering his own allegedly single man, when Alfie popped his head into the library.
“Oh thank God! I need your help. Gil’s explaining crop diversification again. I barely escaped with my life. Hide me.”
Dominick snorted. “Where? He knows this house better than either of us.”
“Then hide me somewhere else. It’s stifling in here.”
Dominick knew exactly what he meant. He couldn’t describe how, but ever since the captain’s disappearance, there’d been a heaviness to the air in Balcarres. Perhaps it was the reminder of the disappearances the year before and the terrible secrets they’d uncovered. Or perhaps they all felt the same unease he had any time he opened a cupboard, that breathless moment of fear that a body would come tumbling out. Or perhaps it was just the changing seasons. October had been settled in for only a few days and already the brilliant flash of colours from September had given way to the grey bleakness of winter.
“We could go to the folly,” Dominick suggested. He expected Alfie to groan at the climb, but Gil must have outdone himself today, because Alfie agreed as soon as the suggestion was out of his mouth.
Climbing the crag’s steep path, Dominick knew this had been the right idea. He had to slow his steps so Alfie could keep up, but it was worth it to see the flush in Alfie’s cheeks, the exertion brightening his eyes as he took deep breaths of the chilly air.
He really was unfairly handsome. His fine features hid the strength within him, just as his lordly bearing hid the mischievous demon beneath. Truly, his beauty was completely wasted on a man like Dominick when Alfie could be inviting any man he wanted to his bed, from dukes to delivery boys. But by some miracle, it seemed the only man he did want was a battered bit of street rough and Dominick was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.
Alfie stopped to wipe his face with his handkerchief and the ring on his finger caught the weak sunlight. Dominick’s ring, where it belonged. A warm tendril of possessiveness curled in his belly.
“Put that face away,” Alfie said. “We’re almost to the top and I won’t have the workers see you leering like a baboon.”
“You’ve never seen a baboon.”
“Perhaps not, but you look like one. Stop it. I think I hear Mrs. McConnell’s voice. You’ll frighten the ladies.”
Alfie was right, for as soon as they rounded the last turn of the path, they spotted Mrs. McConnell leaning over a small table, pointing out something on a piece of paper to a man in a plaid coat. Janie hovered over her shoulder, trying to see the paper as well.
Finally, the man in the plaid nodded and headed back to work, taking the paper with him as he went. Despite the narrowness of the ledge between the front of the folly and certain death, his steps were confident and he whistled out to several other workers as he walked, his thoughts clearly more on the task at hand than the drop below.
Janie noticed their presence first and tapped Mrs. McConnell on the arm.
“Ah, my lord, Mr. Trent, what brings you up here?” Mrs. McConnell asked, tucking a pencil behind her ear just as her husband once had.
“Mrs. McConnell,” Dominick nodded. “I was wondering if you could help us with something. Some time back, I set one of the rocks into the folly window. I thought His Lordship might do the same so a bit of this was his work as well.”
Alfie gave him a betrayed look, but it wasn’t Dominick’s fault he’d been so eager to agree to climb the folly.
Dominick grinned at him. Several stacks of stone lined the edge of the clearing at the top of the crag, waiting to be fit into place in the folly. The stones were laying atop beams of wood to keep them free of earth and stop them from sinking into the mud when it rained.
He waved towards the nearest stack. “Go on, my lord, find one that appeals to you.”
Alfie’s look this time said Dominick should be checking his boots for rocks for the foreseeable future, but it was worth it. Besides, it would do Alfie some good to get his hands dirty. Dominick knew he hadn’t been doing his leg exercises as often as he should.
It was partially his fault. He should’ve been making more of an effort to get Alfie back into the gymnasium he’d built them. If nothing else, it would be some escape from the growing number of people at Balcarres. No one would dare bother an earl while he exercised and risk catching him in a less-than-gentlemanly state of exertion.
Perhaps he could use that as a threat: do your exercises or go lift rocks. Gil had said it was a bad idea for Dominick to help build the folly, but he hadn’t specifically said Alfie couldn’t.
He took a moment to envision Alfie stripped to the waist, trim muscles glistening in the sun with the sweat of an honest day’s work, a hint of dirt clinging to his collarbone as he stretched his long body upward, heaving another stone into place.
A cough broke him from his reverie. Alfie was giving him a stern look, then mouthed the word “baboon”.
Dominick did his best to school his features and returned his attention to Mrs. McConnell. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said, I’ll wager it was my husband’s idea to have you be a part of building it. He likes that sort of thing.” Her face fell. “ Liked that sort of thing, I mean. It’s hard to remember he’s gone sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” Dominick said. He wanted to reach out to her, but knew that wasn’t the proper thing. “I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a fond memory, just at a sad time. And it’s an excellent idea. If you’ll accompany me, my lord, I’ll see if the workers have something that would suit.
Alfie shot Dominick another look that promised retribution, but dutifully followed, resigning himself to the task of lifting a single stone.
Dominick stayed where he was. He wasn’t going to miss the spectacle of Alfie at work, but no doubt Mrs. McConnell would want to update the earl on the progress of his folly first, and that might take some time. He felt a twinge of pity for his lover, swapping Gil’s lecture for Mrs. McConnell’s, but such was the price of an earldom.
He looked out over that earldom. The view really was spectacular, even on such an overcast day. The sea haze hid the distant shore and painted the land below in soft greys. But the soft blur gave the familiar view a strange, isolated look. It was as if they were on an uncharted island, cut off from the world beyond by a sea of fog.
He was so lost in silly imaginings of a ship made entirely out of mist and crewed by will-o’-wisps that he almost missed Janie coming up to stand beside him.
“I just wanted to thank you, sir,” she said, her words quick with excitement. “It’s been wonderful working for Mrs. McConnell. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. And her designs, sir! Well, her husband’s designs, of course, but they’re hers now. Balcarres is going to be so beautiful when she’s done with the gardens. Not that it isn’t already beautiful, but it's nothing like it will be. And she even took my suggestion and planted the bell heather! The lilies will remain, if they don't rot, but the rest of the garden she’s going to plant with bell heather instead. She says she thinks it will be even more lovely that way, and even asked if I had any thoughts about ferns!”
“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it, Janie. I’ll let His Lordship know as well.” Dominick dropped his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “How is she? Truly?”
Janie’s eyes went wide and she glanced over her shoulder. But either the urge to gossip got the better of her or she remembered who she actually worked for, because she finally whispered, “Truly, sir, I’m not sure. I’m with her each day from when she wakes in the morning until she dismisses me at night, and I can see she’s sad, but I haven’t once caught her crying or anything of that sort. Yet she’s collected up all his notes and won’t let anyone else touch them. The other day, I found a scrap of paper in the folly and I recognised it as his hand and brought it to her. She wasn’t herself at all about it, snatched it from me like she’d caught me rifling through her jewels.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm. Was it a love letter?” Dominick asked. “I could understand that. A letter from a dead love would be more precious than jewels.”
Janie shook her head. “I recognised his hand, but I was never very good with letters. I’ve been practising so I can be more help to Mrs. McConnell, sir, but I don’t think it’s speaking ill of the dead to say his handwriting was truly terrible.
“But I suppose it doesn’t matter. Anything he wrote would be worth keeping if they loved each other as much as they seemed. Still, it’s unnatural she hasn’t cried. Aye, I know plenty of women with husbands they wouldn’t cry over, but I didn’t think she'd be one of them.”
Dominick agreed. “It might not have all hit her yet. When it does though, she’ll need someone there for her.”
“I’ll be there,” said Janie fiercely.
She’d stopped wearing her maid’s cap when she started working as lady’s maid to Mrs. McConnell—yet another secret rule from the world of nobility and their servants that Dominick would never understand. Her bright red hair shone like a flame, wisps dancing around her head. She hesitated, but seemed to draw courage from this new fire.
“There is something else troubling her, sir.”
“Oh?”
“The workers. She’s angry they’ve stopped showing up. She says there’s no way they’ll be finished before winter and she’ll be stuck here for months longer than she ought.”
Dominick frowned. Mrs. McConnell had seemed so determined to stay as long as her husband’s body was missing. But in fairness, that had been on the day of his disappearance. He could understand how her mood might have shifted in the days since, living in the same house where he had likely died, spending every day pouring over his papers to create his great final, unfinished project. And all without even the comfort of a proper burial or even knowing what had happened. The mystery was maddening enough for Dominick, for her it must be torture.
He couldn’t even let himself imagine what he’d do if the same thing happened to Alfie. He certainly wouldn’t have the courage Mrs. McConnell was showing. He doubted he’d even be able to get out of bed. But she hadn’t said anything about changing her mind and handing the job over to another. If she was determined to see her husband’s work through, then the least they could do was make it as easy for her, and as quick, as possible.
“We could raise the workers’ wages,” he suggested. “That might draw some back.”
Janie frowned. “Well, I mean, no one would say no to a bit more coin in their pockets, but they didn’t leave because of the pay. Unless His Lordship is willing to offer a king’s ransom, I doubt you’ll get enough back to make a difference.”
Dominick fought to hide his smile. He’d never heard Janie speak so plainly to anyone, never mind him. She hadn’t tripped all over her words either. Apparently, all she needed to find her confidence was a few days in the company of a woman she admired. Just as well they’d gotten her out of the kitchen before she’d spent too much time with the Hirkins women. If she’d started to take after them, it would probably be easier to just hand over the earldom and be done with it.
“You sound like you have an idea.”
“Aye,” she said, tucking one of the more violently fluttering wisps of hair back behind her ear. “The problem is, there’s been a run of bad luck here, and everyone around knows it. I’ve been leaving out more and more for the broonies, cheese and apples even, but even though they’re taking the offerings and things are sure to change soon, no one wants to risk bringing any sorts of curses or bad spirits home with them. Those Mr. Charleton is hiring on for the household haven’t much choice, jobs are hard enough to come by and the chance at a one that might keep them paid for life is worth the risk, but for the men up here at the folly, a few weeks extra coin is hardly worth getting on the wrong side of the spirits.
“It’s one thing for Balcarres to be haunted, we all know about that, but when a dead man gets up and walks away, that’s more than more than most folk can bear. I couldn’t bear it either, sir, except I know how much the captain meant to Mrs. McConnell, so I know he can’t mean any harm to her or those with her, but the other workers don’t know that. Besides, there’s the matter of whatever it was that made him get up and walk in the first place, if you follow me.”
Dominick did. He wasn’t sure if he believed in curses himself, but the longer they went without finding Captain McConnell, the more reasonable the idea of a walking corpse sounded.
“So,” she continued, “I was thinking that what’s needed is the chance to get rid of all the bad spirits and let everyone see it being done. It’s a good thing then, that we’re so close to Samhain.”
“What’s Sow-en?”
“Samhain,” she said again slowly. “The last night of October when the spirits of the dead come back and bonfires are lit to drive back evil. There’s all sorts of guising and mumming too, the boys and young men using paints and masks to make all sorts of frightful disguises to scare the rest of us.”
Just what they needed, more terror.
“And you think all these reminders of death and evil will make people less afraid of Balcarres?”
To Dominick’s surprise, Janie laughed. “Aye, it sounds like it shouldn’t, but it’s all in good fun. A chance for everyone to come together and celebrate the end of the harvest and enjoy a bit of the spoils. There's games and fortune telling, putting two hazelnuts together, naming one for yourself and one for your sweetheart to see whether they jump together or apart when they roast, or peeling an apple to see the first letter of your true love’s name for those who read, that sort of thing. Then there’s all sorts of food and soul cakes brought from every house. If we add the Hirkins’ baking to that, I don’t see how anyone could stay away.”
The fortune telling and guising reminded him of something a few families he knew in Spitalfields used to do.
“I think I’ve heard of this,” he said. “But I thought it was an Irish custom?”
“Aye, and who do you think they stole it from?” Janie sniffed. “But all that’s just a bit of fun to get the people in the village to come. The important part’s the bonfire. On Samhain, the fires in all the homes are put out, and everyone gathers to light a great new fire. Then there’s all sorts of dancing to bless the fire and the dancers too. They say the brighter the fire and the better the dancing, the more the bad spirits are driven away. At the end of the night, everyone takes home torches to relight their homes for the coming year so we’re all warmed by the same flame.
“We’ve all these great piles of sticks and logs already, put them into one stack and it’ll be the largest bonfire the county’s seen in lifetimes. No one will want to miss that. And once they’ve all danced in the ashes and lit their hearths from it, they won’t be afraid of coming back to work at Balcarres. How could they, when the fire that protects the manor is the same one burning in their homes?”
He could imagine it now, the lights slowly winking out in the cottages that spread out below as everyone made their way up to Balcarres, then the procession of small lights leading away again in the early morning, carried by those with faces still flushed with heat from the great fire, and the homes finally lighting again, one-by-one.
Janie stopped and Dominick could almost see her shrinking back into the Janie she’d been before. “I know it’s silly, and I don’t expect His Lordship to believe—”
He cut her off. “No, I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I’m sure he will too. Even if it doesn’t bring back more workers, we could all use something to look forward to. Speaking of which, want to see an earl get his hands dirty?”
She giggled and they went to watch Alfie place his rock.
As it happened, the window where Dominick had laid his stone was nearly complete and Alfie was able to place the keystone at the very top. Far smaller than Dominick’s rock, it was just as important, and gazing at “their” window, Dominick was struck with an unexpected burst of pride. Pride, and something more. In that window was proof that he and Alfie were here, were together, and even if no one would ever know, that marker would stand for the entire countryside to see long after they were gone.
“Is everything all right?” Alfie asked as they made their way back down the path.
Dominick just nodded, unable to put his feelings into words.
“It’s just,” Alfie continued, “ever since we got out of earshot of the others, I’ve been waiting for some terrible quip about how I’ll always be on top now. The lack of innuendo has made me worry somewhat. I could start off with one about you forever being on the bottom if that would help?”
Dominick barked out a laugh. “And you’re supposed to be the respectable one! Besides, no matter what’s running through your filthy mind, that arrangement would never last.”
Alfie narrowed his eyes. “Care to place a wager?”
“Happily.” Dominick stuck out his hand. “I’ll bet you that within a week you’ll be begging for my c—”
He stopped at a shout from above. They were now passing directly below the worksite. Following the shout came terrible splintering cracks and rumbles that shook the ground. There was no rain, or each boom could be mistaken for thunder. Instead it sounded like some great beast rushing at them through the forest from above.
Without thinking, he threw himself at Alfie, knocking him back against the nearest tree and sending his cane skittering into the underbrush. He didn’t have time to worry about that, because just as he ducked their heads down, pulling Alfie’s against his own and sheltering them both with his raised arms, a massive stone tumbled down, striking the path where they’d been standing just a moment before.
It split in two with an almighty crack . Immediately, another stone followed it, then another and another, waves of solid rock crashing against each other like the ringing of unholy bells.
Then everything went silent.
Alfie’s grip was tight around him, and Dominick wasn’t sure whose heartbeat it was he could feel racing in his chest.
“Nick?” Alfie croaked out at last, his breath hot against Dominick’s throat.
Dominick had to wet his lips several times before he could respond, his gaze fixed on the pile of rocks that lay in the middle of the path, a small avalanche of pebbles still trickling down behind them. Each stone was the same pale grey of those being used to build the folly and ranged in size from no larger than a hare to no smaller than a barrel of ale. Hundreds of pounds of stone where they’d just been standing.
“I’m all right,” he gasped out. But he so easily couldn’t have been. Another second more and he—or worse, Alfie…
He couldn’t put the thought into words. All he could do was cling to Alfie to prove to himself that the worst hadn’t happened. They were both still there, still alive.
But someone didn’t want them to be.