Chapter 2 #2
“What is it?” Grace had already slipped her legs from the wondrous warmth of the covers and into her slippers.
“Mr. Brandon said not to disturb you till morning, but I knew you’d wish to know as soon as possible.” Ellie nodded. “In case someone left a clue.”
At this, Grace’s entire body bolted to a standing position.
A clue? Her mouth dropped into a smile.
Oh, Ellie knows me so well. Even if she wasn’t at all fond of mysteries.
“What do you mean?”
Her dear maid drew in a shivering breath. “Someone’s broken into Lord Astley’s study. John heard noises and went to investigate, but whoever it was has fled.”
Grace was already grabbing her robe and heading toward the door. “Lord Astley’s study?”
“There’s broken glass from one of his bookcases.”
The glass bookcase? Where he kept special items.
Grace’s mind spun as she tied her dressing gown and raced down the corridor, Ellie on her heels. Who would break into Frederick’s study? And why?
First the missing painting, and now this?
Perhaps she’d been right to tell John to study up on his Sherlock Holmes.
Because now … a mystery was afoot.
Several servants had gathered outside Frederick’s study door—John, Mrs. Powell, and, surprisingly, Miss Gale, who stood slightly apart from the others.
Her auburn hair was hastily pinned, and her expression remarkably alert.
She certainly hadn’t been to her bedroom yet, judging by the pristine look of her clothes.
Brandon waited inside.
“I do apologize for disturbing your sleep, my lady.” Brandon sent a look toward Ellie before continuing.
“I’m glad I was disturbed, Brandon.” Grace swept past him deeper into the room. “It would have been terribly disappointing to miss out on a mystery just for sleep.”
To which Brandon released a rather impressive sigh.
“I heard noises, my lady,” John offered from behind her. “And followed the sounds, but no one was here when I arrived.”
The room looked as though a small tempest had passed through it. Papers lay scattered across Frederick’s usually immaculate desk. Drawers remained drawn open, their contents rifled through. Books pulled from shelves had been stacked haphazardly.
But worst of all, one of Frederick’s beautiful, glass-fronted bookcases stood with its door hanging open, the glass shattered and glistening shards littering the floor.
Grace’s hand flew to her throat. Oh, poor Frederick. He’d been so proud of those bookcases. His grandfather had commissioned them specially.
She turned to Brandon. “What is missing?”
Brandon’s brows shot high. “Nothing, my lady.”
“Nothing?” She turned back to the case. “Thieves that stole nothing?”
“Quite certain, my lady.” John shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with disappointing her. “Everything’s accounted for. The medals, the compass, even the ready cash his lordship kept in his desk is still there.”
“How peculiar.” Carefully, Grace moved nearer to the case, mindful of the broken glass. “Why break into a case you can already see into and take nothing?”
“Perhaps they were interrupted, my lady?”
“Perhaps.” But something about it niggled at Grace’s mind like a persistent itch. In all her detective novels, thieves who broke into locked cases always took something. That was rather the point of thievery, wasn’t it?
She knelt carefully beside the broken bookcase, studying the scattered contents.
Military histories, mostly. Some old documents carefully placed in a wooden box, which looked undisturbed.
A silver case and diamond-tipped pen, which surely would have tickled a typical thief’s fancy.
A few volumes of poetry Frederick pretended not to enjoy but she knew he read.
How curious to leave those things of value behind. “But what were they looking for?”
“What sort of thief breaks in and takes nothing?” Mrs. Powell said from the doorway.
Precisely.
“What lay there?”
Grace looked up to find Miss Gale nearby, her gaze fixed on a back corner of the shelf. “There is a clear spot where the dust hasn’t gathered.”
All eyes turned from Miss Gale to Grace, who blinked several times before leaning in the direction Miss Gale indicated. The back corner? Grace squinted, peering closer.
Sure enough, behind a wooden box and a set of books lay a space devoid of … something. A perfect rectangle shape outlined in the surrounding dust.
“Very observant, Miss Gale.” Grace studied the woman, that peculiar tingling sensation rushing through her head again.
Was the feeling from the birth of a mystery … or from Miss Gale herself?
The woman’s violet gaze swung to Grace. Her expression shifted from a sudden wariness into a tepid smile. “My … my father was a constable, my lady. I learned a few things about investigations.”
“How useful!” Grace offered the woman an encouraging smile.
“You may not know this, but I am forever finding myself in need of excellent sleuths.” She nodded toward Brandon.
“Just ask our dear Brandon. He’s been the poor sufferer of being hit in the head by a scoundrel while trying to protect Lord Astley, who himself ended up being a victim to a man-napping. ”
Miss Gale’s brow creased for the tiniest moment as she stared at Grace before looking to Mr. Brandon as if for clarity.
“Beg your pardon, but Lady Astley does have a keen ability to attract …”
Grace stared at Brandon, waiting for his declaration.
He cleared his throat. “Curious happenings.”
Her smile slid wide at his careful wording. Good man. And then she turned to Miss Gale. “They’re attracted to Lord Astley as well, though he’d never admit to it.”
A cough erupted from Brandon, which Grace resolutely ignored, and she leaned nearer, examining the empty space on the shelf, her mind working through possibilities. What had been there?
A painting? A book? A document box?
Oh, if only Frederick were here. “John, you said you heard noises?”
“Yes, my lady. I was making my rounds—checking the locks on the ground floor as I do every night—when I heard something from this direction. By the time I arrived, whoever it was had fled through the window.” He gestured to the window, which stood slightly ajar.
Grace rose and moved to the window, peering out into the darkness. The gardens beyond were quiet and peaceful, the moon painting a pale glow over the orderly hedges and paths.
Miss Gale appeared at her side, so silent Grace nearly startled.
Had whoever broken the glass known to escape through this particular window? Or had they simply made a fortunate guess that it would lead to such an easily concealed route?
“I know the windows were locked, my lady,” Brandon said, nodding toward John. “We ensure they are secured every evening without fail.”
“So the thief didn’t come into the house through the window.” Miss Gale offered, running a finger over the window’s seal. “It was opened from the inside.”
“Meaning …” Grace held Miss Gale’s gaze, her pulse quickening. “It was either unlocked on purpose or …”
“The thief was already in the house,” Miss Gale finished quietly.
A delightful chill skimmed up Grace’s spine from the small of her back all the way to her neck.
“Which means someone inside the house either is the thief or is assisting the thief.” Brandon’s voice came low and grave. “This will not do, my lady. We must alert the authorities.”
Grace turned to him, her mind already racing ahead. “If our brains can’t come up with an answer, then I’m afraid our dear police from Astlynn Commons aren’t likely to do much better. Especially with their numbers so diminished from the war effort.”
Brandon released a long, weary sigh, so Grace rushed on. “But if you think it wise, Brandon, then I encourage you to alert them in the morning. There is not much left to be done tonight, and I’d rather not have half the county tramping through here disturbing our patients.”
Grace flicked her gaze back to Miss Gale before turning to address the other servants, bringing her hands together decisively.
“So. We have a thief who stole a painting yesterday, broke into this study tonight, smashed a bookcase, rifled through papers and books, but took nothing of obvious value. At least nothing we can yet identify.” She looked at Brandon and John specifically.
“Or it’s something of a different sort of value? ”
“Or perhaps what they wanted was here, and they simply did not find it,” Miss Gale said quietly, almost to herself.
Grace looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my lady, that if someone is searching for something specific—a particular document, perhaps, or a specific book or artifact—they might not find it on their first attempt. They might have to search multiple locations.”
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Multiple locations meant multiple break-ins. Which meant this wasn’t over.
“Well, if that’s the case, we should all be on alert,” Grace said firmly. “After all, we have a house full of patients and nurses to protect.”
“Or to keep alert to,” Brandon added, his meaning clear.
“Possibly, Mr. Brandon.” Grace stared at the broken case, thinking.
“But they left the valuables behind, which is the true curiosity and proves they were looking for something very specific.” She turned to the gathered servants.
“What wounded soldier would even know of anything so particular worth stealing from Havensbrooke?”
What could possibly be in a country house-turned-hospital that would be worth this kind of risk?
Military documents? Maps? Something Frederick had brought home from abroad?
“Mrs. Powell, please inform the staff to be alert for anything unusual. And”—Grace hesitated—”please ask them to be discreet. I don’t want to alarm the patients, but we must remain vigilant.”
“Of course, my lady,” several voices said in unison.
“And perhaps,” Grace continued, warming to the idea, “we all ought to increase our mystery reading.” She nodded enthusiastically. “If our minds are already attuned to sleuthing, I imagine it will only make us more aware of clues and suspicious behavior.”
Brandon sighed again, this time with a note of resignation. Mrs. Powell’s eyes closed briefly—they must be terribly tired, the poor dears. John gave an encouraging nod, bless him. Ellie almost smiled.
And Miss Gale tilted her head and studied Grace, her brows rising with what might have been surprise … or curiosity?
Grace leaned toward her. “We have a bit of a history with mysteries around here, Miss Gale. But since you already possess some investigative skills, I daresay you’ll fit right in.”
The woman’s brows rose even higher before one corner of her mouth tipped upward in the tiniest hint of a smile. “Thank you, my lady.”
From the way the woman said it, Grace couldn’t be sure whether she meant her thanks or not.
With a good night to the servants and a tender pat to Brandon’s arm—really, the dear man needed more appreciation for his patience—Grace walked back to her room, her steps considerably lighter than they’d been before.
A thief with a mysterious target in mind.
A new maid with an investigative history and remarkably sharp observations.
And a possible suspect operating from inside Havensbrooke itself.
Grace’s grin spread with each step she took.
Oh, happy day! It had been far too long since she’d been part of a proper mystery.