Chapter 4 #2
At the top of the central staircase, one could turn left or right down wide corridors leading to different wings of the manor.
There were also two slim corridors edging the balustrade that overlooked the grand entrance hall.
Down one of these corridors was the billiards room.
The door was open, spilling out lamplight.
Two voices sounded from within. The first, belonging to a man, was angry and loud.
The second belonged to a woman, who sounded frightened.
Her small figure emerged onto the landing, her hands clasped together in a sort of pleading gesture.
“Please, I didn’t mean no harm.” It appeared to be a young maid. Jasper retreated a step, pulling himself behind a corner, then peeked around the edge. Frederick Cowper came out after her, still in his dark red dinner jacket, and billiard cue in his hand.
“You would do well to mind your own business,” he said through what sounded like clenched teeth. “That is, if you would like to keep your position here.”
“Of course, I do, sir. I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” The maid bobbed her head and curtseyed skittishly before hurrying toward where Jasper stood. He pulled back out of sight, and to his relief, the maid continued swiftly down the stairs, stifling her sobs.
He gave Frederick several more seconds to return to the billiards room.
When Jasper heard the door click shut, he exhaled.
Whatever that had been about, the heir to the viscountcy had not been nearly as pleasant toward the maid as he’d been toward his guests at dinner.
Jasper wasn’t curious enough to find out what the maid had done wrong.
All he wanted was to question Helen Dalton in the morning, then take Leo and leave this bloody house for good.
Leo drew back the heavy velvet drapes in her room before going to bed.
Should the rain and wind pull away during the night, she wanted the morning sun to wake her as quickly as possible so that she and Jasper could speak to Helen, then depart for the train station.
As she lay in bed after changing into the nightdress the maid had laid out for her, Leo listened as the storm relinquished its wrath.
Her body, however, still felt as though she’d been caught in a whirlwind.
Her skin felt tight and sensitive underneath the linen nightdress, and her chin was lightly scuffed from Jasper’s new beard.
Her breathing was still off-kilter, and when her fingers drifted over the column of her neck where Jasper’s teeth had gently nipped, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in thoughts of him.
Of course, she had indulged in these thoughts before but never had the reality of them been as close as when he’d been kissing her on that desk.
She wasn’t disappointed he’d pulled away—at least, not entirely. Leo knew well enough that she wasn’t ready for what might have unfolded had they not come to their senses. But that didn’t mean she disliked imagining it.
Surprisingly, sleep claimed her quickly, and she didn’t wake to the rising sun as she’d planned. Instead, a woman’s timid voice pulled her to consciousness.
“Miss? Ever forgive me, miss, but I’ve come to wake you.”
Leo lifted her head from the pillow and met the maid, Ursula, with a sleep-fogged frown. “Oh. Hello.”
She wasn’t accustomed to waking up to people hovering by her bedside. The young maid wore a fraught expression as she scurried from the bedside toward Leo’s garments, which were draped over an upholstered bench.
“I was supposed to come last night to help you undress,” she said as she picked up the dark purple jacket and held it up for inspection. “I’m so sorry, miss. Mrs. Renwick will have my head on a pike if she finds out that I didn’t come.”
Leo sat up and reluctantly ceded the sumptuous cushion of the mattress and down blanket. Hot baths and cozy, plush beds were the only things she would miss about Cowper Hall.
“I did not mind, Ursula. As I’ve never had a maid, I didn’t miss the help,” she said. Though, she was curious as to why the maid had not come, especially as she seemed so distraught and guilty for it now.
“You won’t tell Mrs. Renwick?” she asked, looking back at Leo with a genuine glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“You have my word,” she promised and then rose from the bed. Outside, the sunlight was fickle, but at least the rain and wind had ceased.
“Oh, thank you ever so much, miss,” the maid replied with a gusty exhale of relief. She rushed forward with Leo’s chemise and bloomers in her arms. “I’ve been told you’re expecting Mrs. Dalton for breakfast.”
Leo checked the clock in the corner of the room. It was just past seven now.
“I can dress myself, truly,” she said.
But Ursula, likely feeling remiss in her duties, shook her head. “I’ll hand your things over the screen, miss, if you prefer.”
She found she did prefer that. So, after stepping behind the trifold screen, she removed her nightdress and took her garments one by one from the maid.
Afterward, Ursula guided her toward a mirrored dresser, where she insisted Leo sit and let her style her hair.
As this task was one that she’d never been very patient with, nor fond of, Leo assented without complaint.
The maid happily shook loose the hasty plait Leo had created the night before and began to brush her dark hair with a soft-bristled hairbrush.
“I usually style it in a low bun or sometimes, I pin it up, but…” Leo shrugged, more than aware that fashion was not her forte. It had never seemed to matter much, considering she was usually only going to work at the morgue.
Ursula smiled as she started to expertly loop, twist, and pin strands of Leo’s hair.
She watched carefully in the mirror’s reflection, so that she could remember the steps later.
When finished, her hair was pinned up in a lovely loose bun, circled by a thin braid.
A few artful strands of hair had been left to frame her face, curled with the help of a hot iron.
“There, miss,” the maid said proudly as she stepped back to admire her work. Leo did as well, turning her head side to side while gazing in the mirror.
“It’s beautifully done, Ursula. Much better than I could ever do for myself.” She acknowledged that there were now three things she would miss about Cowper Fields.
“It shows off your heart-shaped face,” the maid complimented. Then, her smile grew conspiratorial. “I’m sure the detective inspector will notice. Is it true you and he are a couple, miss?”
Leo met the maid’s eyes in the mirror, taken aback. “Who has told you that?”
Ursula’s eyes widened, again with guilty terror.
“It’s just what a few other servants were saying, miss.
I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business,” she said, then started to tidy up the brush, hairpins, and hot iron.
“I keep mucking everything up lately, saying the wrong thing. Do forgive me, miss.”
Leo stood up from the cushioned stool. “There is no need to keep apologizing, Ursula. You’ve said nothing wrong. You are right. We are a…couple.” It felt strange to say it, but also remarkably satisfying.
Ursula paused, her contrition transforming to girlish glee. Before she could say anything, Leo held up her hand. “It is new. Very new.”
And that was exactly why Jasper had been wise to rein in their kiss last night.
“And the inspector doesn’t mind that you work with the dead?” Ursula asked next, though as soon as she finished her question, her eyelids popped wide again. No doubt horrified she’d said something wrong again.
“He doesn’t mind,” Leo answered, smiling at the idea of the servants whispering about her belowstairs. She understood how strange she must seem to them, considering they served proper ladies and gentlemen.
“I’ve never met a lady like you before, miss,” Ursula said as she continued to the other side of the changing screen to gather the discarded nightdress.
“I’m not a lady,” Leo was quick to note. “Not a titled one, at least.”
“Well, you’re much nicer than any of the ladies in this house,” she replied, then froze. “But I shouldn’t say that.”
Leo was about to assure her, once again, that she would keep the maid’s confidence when the door to the attached sitting room opened.
“Miss Spencer?” a voice called.
It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Renwick, whom Leo had met briefly the previous day. Ursula straightened like a soldier as the older woman entered.
“Good morning, Miss Spencer,” she said with heavy breaths, her eyes darting around restlessly. “I was hoping to find Mrs. Dalton with you.”
“We’re not meeting until eight o’clock,” Leo explained.
Mrs. Renwick turned to the maid. “Have you seen Mrs. Dalton, Ursula?”
The maid shook her head, the lace on her mobcap trembling.
“Is something wrong?” Leo asked, a crimp in her stomach beginning to form.
The housekeeper’s lips pursed. “It seems she cannot be found.”
“Mrs. Dalton wasn’t in her room when her maid entered this morning?” Leo asked, presuming that her maid would have done exactly as Ursula had with her.
“Dora said the bed hadn’t been slept in,” Mrs. Renwick revealed.
Leo squeezed her eyes shut and dragged in a breath. Helen Dalton had left the manor during the night. Leo had a good guess as to why.
“I need to see Inspector Reid, Mrs. Renwick,” she said.
The housekeeper led Leo to the breakfast room, where Jasper was standing in close conference with Mr. Corman and the butler, Decamp.
The viscount sat at the head of the table, reading a newspaper and eating.
When Jasper turned to greet her, she fought back the errant memory of his palm gripping the back of her thigh and the deep stroke of his tongue and instead forced her mind to the problem at hand.
“Mrs. Dalton has left,” she said after she joined him and the other two men. He nodded.
“Decamp says no one in the stables was summoned during the course of the night to bring a carriage for her.”
“And Mr. Dalton left earlier with their curricle,” Leo mused aloud. Had Helen walked? But, as Leo recalled, the rain had still been pouring near midnight.
“Her maid said she left Mrs. Dalton around eleven last evening. Dora has been to the Dalton residence and back this morning already,” Mr. Corman put in. “Mrs. Dalton has not been seen there.”
“Anthony was an ass last night,” the viscount said, turning a page in his paper as he continued to read. “My granddaughter is likely taking one of her dramatic breaks from him, and by leaving in the middle of the night, she is surely all too happy to be causing a stir.”
Leo kept her mouth shut against voicing her own theory: that Helen had fled the manor before having to speak to a detective inspector about Francine’s mysterious letter, and that she had a notion as to what his questions would be about.
Had Helen indeed played some role in Teddy’s death, as Francine had always feared?
It made Leo feel ill to consider that possibility.
“Her maid is quite concerned, however,” Decamp said cautiously after the viscount had finished speaking, “as in the past, Mrs. Dalton has always taken Dora with her.”
Jasper turned to Leo and quietly said, “The interview.”
She nodded.
“What?” The viscount’s charade of feigning disinterest while reading the morning paper fell apart. “What interview?”
“That is confidential,” Jasper replied. “As Decamp has informed us that the roads and tracks are now clear for travel, Miss Spencer and I will be taking our leave.”
He knew her well enough to know Leo would not wish to sit down and break her fast with the viscount or anyone else who arrived in the breakfast room. Nadia, Millicent, and Frederick were not yet present.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Leo added, though she directed this toward the butler and Mr. Corman.
The viscount grunted, then returned to his paper. “Enjoy your new home, won’t you?”
Jasper and Leo approached the door at the same time as Frederick was arriving. His hair was combed back and still damp, as if he’d just bathed. But Leo noted he was again wearing his burgundy dinner jacket. An odd choice for an informal breakfast, she thought.
“Am I catching you on your way out?” he asked.
“Don’t keep them,” the viscount interjected. “We wouldn’t want them to miss their train.”
“Good day, Mr. Cowper,” Leo said, with a vexed glance back toward the old man.
A footman was waiting for them at the front door with their coats, hats, and gloves, along with Leo’s handbag.
“I’ve decided to come to London for a few days,” Jasper said as they waited in the entrance hall for one of the viscount’s carriages to pull up outside.
Leo whipped her head around to peer at him, a warm bolt of happiness rippling through her.
“I thought we might take a look at the house on Craven Hill,” he explained.
“And pry up the floorboard to find the glass vial Mrs. Stroud wrote about?”
Jasper laughed as the carriage arrived. “I should have guessed you’d be more interested in the mysterious vial than the fact that we now own a home in a posh neighborhood.”