Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
As Mr. Lawrence saw to the horses, the housekeeper had Morrigan and the other maid set out blankets on the grass. Bailey and Timmy carried down the basket with the food and cider.
Bailey took Morrigan’s hand. “Come on, then. Let’s see what we can find.”
She wasn’t sure where he meant to go, but she was willing to follow him anywhere. He took her down onto the beach and led her along the sands, which still had plenty of rocks embedded, she realized. He bent and picked up one.
“See that?” he said, nodding to the strange little spiral that marked it. “Her Grace the Second’s duke told me that was an ancient sea creature.”
Morrigan bumped him with her shoulder. “Give over!”
“No, really,” Bailey insisted. “You can find them all along here.”
She released his hand to bend, studying the rocks. It didn’t take long before she spotted another. “Look!” She held it up triumphantly.
Bailey grinned. “Nice one.”
Morrigan tucked it closer. “And I can keep it? It doesn’t belong to the duke or whoever owns this land?”
“It probably belongs to someone,” Bailey acknowledged with a shrug. “But no one ever complained when Sally brought them home.”
Morrigan studied it. Some parts were grey like charcoal, but others were shiny brown, almost as if they’d been bronzed. She’d never seen its like.
She looked up to find Bailey watching her. The salty breeze lifted his blond hair and tugged at his coat. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For bringing me here, for seeing something of worth in me.”
He closed the distance between them. “I know something fine when I see it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And you’re about as fine as they come, Morrigan Turner.”
He was bending closer, and Morrigan’s eyes once more drifted shut in anticipation of his kiss.
“Hey!”
She blinked as water splashed past Bailey, hitting the backs of his trousers and brushing her booted feet. Bailey whirled while Timmy ran away, laughing.
“Come back here, you villain!” Bailey yelled, darting after the youth. “These are my good trousers!”
Morrigan laughed. Leaving them to their larking about, she climbed back up on the grass to sit beside Mrs. Carmichael on the blanket.
“Have you ever seen one of these before?” she asked, handing the housekeeper her treasure.
Mrs. Carmichael examined it. “Surely it’s not a shell, not made of rock like this.”
“Bailey says it’s an old sea creature,” Morrigan told her. “I thought he might be teasing me.”
The housekeeper smiled, handing the stone back to her. “He does like to tease, but I wouldn’t doubt him in this instance. In fact, it looks to me that I’ll be losing you shortly.”
Morrigan sighed, gaze going out across the sea, so endless, so constantly moving.
“I’m honored beyond words that you’d consider promoting me to ladies’ maid, ma’am.
The increase in pay and opportunities would mean a lot to my family.
But I’m finding it hard to remember that when Bailey smiles at me. ”
“Love can take us that way,” Mrs. Carmichael acknowledged. “I remember when Nathan first tried on his new uniform. He quite took my breath away.”
“Your husband?” Morrigan asked.
She nodded. “Lieutenant Nathan Carmichael, Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards. So full of himself the tailor had to measure his chest twice because of how much Nathan had puffed it out.” Her gaze went over the water too. “Fine soldier, fine husband, fine father.”
Morrigan sucked in a breath.
The housekeeper paled, chin rising. “Please forget I said that. I haven’t told anyone about my daughter.”
“I’ll say nothing,” Morrigan promised. “Is she… did she die too?”
Mrs. Carmichael pasted on a smile. “Ah, there you are, Bailey. I thought you’d abandoned your fair lady.”
“Never, ma’am,” Bailey vowed. He started to sit, but Morrigan flapped her hands.
“Stop that, you! You’ll get sand all over Mrs. Carmichael’s blankets. Do you know how hard that is to launder out?”
Laughing, he stepped a little away and began brushing off his trousers.
Morrigan aimed an upraised brow at the housekeeper.
Mrs. Carmichael laughed. “I’ve used that look myself, young lady. I know how potent it can be. I’ll only say that the girl we were discussing is fine and well cared for. His Grace arranged for part of my pay to support her. And this conversation is at an end.”
Morrigan nodded acceptance as Bailey rejoined them.
The rest of the afternoon flew, and it was all too soon time to return. The wagon trundled along, Morrigan’s head on Bailey’s chest and his arm around her. Even Timmy’s yammering couldn’t stop her from smiling.
Mr. Lawrence let them off near the kitchen gardens, and they all spilled into the scent of an apple cake baking.
Mr. Kinsle pushed off from the worktable, where he’d been speaking to Mrs. Bettleton. He looked past Morrigan at the housekeeper.
“We must talk.”
And Morrigan knew something terrible must have happened.
* * *
Georgie was still smiling as she brought Anastasia in from a walk. With Morrigan out, it was incumbent upon Georgie to see to all her pet’s needs. She could probably have enlisted one of the other maids, but it wasn’t an onerous task, especially when she was so happy.
Last evening had gone well! Could anyone possibly fault Hugh’s address, his kindness toward Pip, or his devotion to her? Surely even her father must come to appreciate him.
The colonel had been busy most of the morning, first riding with Sir Winfred and then closeted with Max on estate business.
The duke was perfectly capable of seeing to his own affairs, and he had a solicitor and man of business to advise him if needed, but Georgie appreciated him involving her father.
Still, she rapped on the library door before entering.
Her father looked up from where he’d been bent over plans for the village school.
“Good afternoon, Georgie,” the duke heralded. “Come to collect the colonel?”
Was that desperation under his congenial tone? “Why yes,” Georgie said brightly. “I thought he might enjoy a round of billiards.”
Her father straightened. “Is Sir Winfred available?”
Georgie dimpled. “Sir Winfred is still out visiting tenants. I thought to challenge you.”
Her father’s mustache bristled. He didn’t think ladies should play the game. Since Freddie’s father, the fourth duke, had installed a table in the manor, and Freddie himself had taught Georgie to play, she could not see it as so scandalous.
“Nonsense,” her father said. “His Grace has need of me.”
“You know I value your insights, Colonel,” Max said smoothly, “but I would not want to keep you from your daughter’s company.”
“My father’s just concerned I might show him up,” she teased.
Light flared in his eyes. “Very well. I’ll join you, but don’t be surprised if you get a drubbing.”
He might be the one surprised. Georgie’s smile merely broadened.
She had him at three to one when Mrs. Carmichael appeared in the doorway. Georgie brought up her cue. “Oh, is it time to change for dinner so soon?”
“No, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsey. “Forgive my interruption. When you’re finished, Mr. Kinsle and I would like a word.”
Georgie set the cue carefully aside. The housekeeper rarely came to her with questions.
For years, everyone had deferred to Claudia, partly because she was the duchess of longest standing and partly because she was so good at that sort of thing.
Lately, Mrs. Carmichael had been speaking more with Sophia.
Georgie assumed that was because Sophia was the current duchess, until Max married.
There must be some reason the housekeeper had sought Georgie instead.
Her father returned his cue to the rack against the paneled wall. “We can stop now. It’s clear I’m having an off day.”
She hid her smile as she too returned her cue. “It appears I’m all yours, Mrs. Carmichael.”
But the colonel insisted on joining them.
Georgie couldn’t help her sigh. Did he think she needed his advice even in domestic matters?
Freddie certainly hadn’t behaved that way during their marriage.
For her husband, life had been all a game.
It had taken Georgie and Claudia both to manage the estate when Freddie’s father had died.
Now Georgie, her father, and Mrs. Carmichael adjourned to the library, where the butler was pacing about the space. He pulled up abruptly at the sight of them, squared his shoulders, and stuck out his chin, as if prepared to take on Napoleon himself. Oh, this could not be good.
“What’s happened?” Georgie asked, sinking onto the seat by the hearth. “Should we wait for the others?”
Mr. Kinsle exchanged glances with Mrs. Carmichael. The housekeeper nodded to him as if making a decision.
“I believe this most concerns you, Your Grace,” she said. “We have reason to suspect someone has stolen from the manor.”
“What’s this?” her father demanded.
Georgie held up her hand. “Please, Father. Let me deal with this.” She kept her gaze on the housekeeper. Mrs. Carmichael was ever a rock, but Mr. Kinsle was fidgeting. “What was taken?”
“Dorcus noticed a figurine missing from a table in the sculpture gallery,” their housekeeper replied. “It was the one with the lady in white draperies, holding an urn on her shoulder. We’ve turned the house upside down, and there’s no sign of it.” She looked to Mr. Kinsle.
He cleared his throat. “Maisy and I have been putting aside a few pence from our pay so we could go on a holiday later this year. The fund was in a porcelain jar in the butler’s pantry. It’s empty.”
Georgie sat back in the seat. “That is serious. Surely none of our staff would steal!”
Now Mrs. Carmichael raised her chin. “None of my staff, Your Grace. I quite agree.”
“Then who?”
Her father cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look.
She glared at him. “None of our friends would steal either.”
Again, the butler and housekeeper exchanged glances, and her stomach sank.
“You think it was Pip.” Despite her best efforts, the words came out small.