Chapter 11
Although Thornwyck Hall was still a place that Nessa was yet to feel truly welcome in, that was not the case for every room. She had just one friend in this castle, which was why the kitchen was where she felt most at home.
It was for this reason that Nessa looked for excuses to visit the kitchen whenever she was given the chance. Better still, as her new task involved going over the menu that would be served at Lady Thornwyck’s memorial, she did not have to look too hard.
“They really are putting on a show,” Morag said as she ran her eyes over what was the fifth draft of the menu; it was changed constantly, always small details, done as if Lady Verity was making those changes just because she could. “I cannot remember the last time such an expense was spared.”
“Oh, they just want to do right by Lady Thornwyck,” Nessa said. The smell of freshly baked bread filled her nostrils, as did the smell of something burning … further signs that the staff was hard-pressed. “She deserves to be honored.”
“She does,” Morag agreed. “And while I am not complaining, I might like it if Lady Verity would settle on a final menu.” She clicked her tongue. “Unless she expects all of this to simply appear magically on the day.”
Nessa laughed. “If anyone can do it, it is you.”
Morag winked. “You are right about that.”
The kitchen was a large space filled with ovens and cooktops and plenty of cupboards for storage. Down its center ran a long, stone bench, at which Nessa and Morag sat. Although the room was far too big for just the two of them, it did not feel that way.
There was always staff running in and out as they tended to the ovens and stovetops, and with Muirne curled up at Nessa’s feet, Nessa felt as close to being ‘at home’ as she ever had.
She needed that reminder.
These last few days had been most painful, to be sure, how she had purposefully avoided Lord Thornwyck. Worse still, how she had spoken to him as if he were a stranger. She had seen the hurt in his eyes, had sensed his confusion, and had felt it like a knife in her chest.
But it had to be done. Not only was Nessa lying to him, but she felt that when the truth of her lies came out, they would sow chaos from which she might never recover. Would he be upset? Would he accuse her of trying to use him? Would he care at all?
Truly, she had no idea what to expect. So, best to be safe and build a wall between them both. It was not easy to do; it added to her feelings of loneliness and isolation, but it was for the best …
“Oh!” Morag stopped what she was doing and looked up. For a moment, it appeared as if she was about to blurt out whatever thought was on her mind, only for her eyes to widen as if she suddenly realized that she should not be speaking.
“What?” Nessa asked. “What is it?”
Morag hesitated with worry and then glanced around the kitchen to make sure it was empty before dropping her voice. “I just remembered there was something …” She sucked through her teeth.
“Something what?”
“There is something you ought to know.” She leaned in, her voice still low. “Lord Crispin has been asking about you.”
Nessa blinked. “He has been?”
“Nothing specific or to cause alarm,” Morag assured her. “But he has been asking about the new housekeeper, which is obviously you.”
“Asking what exactly?”
“As I said, nothing specific. Just how you were getting along. If you were fitting in. Questions that might seem perfectly natural, only …” The side of her mouth twitched.
“To be honest, and you did not hear this from me, but Lord Crispin has a history of finding interest in young women who he ought not to be interested in.”
Nessa looked confusingly at Morag. “I do not understand. What sort of interest?”
Morag’s response was a raised eyebrow as if the answer were obvious.
“Are you saying …” Nessa dropped her voice to match Morag’s. “That he is … with other women who …” Her heart started to race. “That he has been inappropriate with previous housekeepers?”
“I should not have said anything.” Morag straightened back up and shook her head. “Nor will I.”
“Morag, you cannot bring this up and then refuse to –”
“Just be careful, Nessa,” Morag cut her off. Then she reached over the table and took her hand. “That is all I am saying. Keep your head down, do your work, and I am sure you will have nothing to fear.”
Nessa continued to study her friend in search of answers. Morag was back to acting as if nothing was amiss, but her vague warning echoed in Nessa’s mind and would not soon be forgotten.
.
***
Later that same day, Nessa found she had some time to herself, so she chose to go for a short walk through the garden. She might have extended her trip toward the lake, for she loved that view more than anything, but she worried that she might pass Lord Thornwyck … best to be safe.
The garden itself was still a beautiful sanctuary that stood apart from the cold, ancient dwelling of the castle that it surrounded. The freshly trimmed grass at its center was verdant.
The flowerbeds that circled the grassy middle were colorful. And the stone path that wound around the outside of its body, curving through the hedges, made for a quaint walk that provided a view of both the garden and the sweeping moorland beyond.
“Ah, Miss Kavanagh!” she heard her voice called from behind.
Nessa turned with a smile already fixed, because she recognized the voice immediately. And sure enough, stepping around a row of hedges, a smile on his face to match, was Mr. Loxley.
She rather liked Mr. Loxley. He was kind to her, companionable, and easy to talk to.
Strange that with him, she did not experience the same sense of comfort and familiarity that she did with Lord Thornwyck.
Mr. Loxley felt more like a friend while Lord Thornwyck …
no, that is not a thought I ought to ponder too deeply on.
“Mr. Loxley,” she said with a tilt of her head as if in accusation. “Dare I ask what you are doing out here? You are not following me, are you?”
He touched his chest as if offended. “I almost asked the same of you, Miss Kavanagh. Can a man not go for a walk through the garden without being accosted?”
“I will remind you that you were the one who called out to me.”
He reached where she stood, still smiling pleasantly. While he was not strikingly handsome, his charm and boyish good humor made up for the fact. “Just being friendly, Miss Kavanagh. Surely you will not begrudge me?”
“I will do my best not to.” She laughed.
“And as we are both here together …” He swept his hand forward. “Might I join you on your stroll? I promise to be nothing but charming.”
She laughed further. “I would be delighted if you did.”
Perhaps she was not so alone? Between Morag and Muirne, and now Mr. Loxley, the argument that Nessa had nobody in Thornwyck Hall was becoming a hard one to make.
She supposed the true reason she felt alone was that the one person she wanted to spend time with, who she had enjoyed speaking to the most, was the one she was now set to avoid. As hard as that was to reckon with … it is also for the best.
“So, tell me, how goes the preparation for Lady Thornwyck’s memorial?” he asked as they started to walk together.
“It goes well,” she said honestly. “It is a lot of work, and Lady Verity is rather …” She hesitated and saw Mr. Loxley chuckling at it. “She is particular, but I know she means well. She just wants the best for the late Lady Thornwyck’s memory.”
“Don’t we all,” Mr. Loxley agreed. “It is a shame you never had a chance to meet her. I see much of Lady Thornwyck in you.” He eyed her as they walked. “The strength of confidence, but paired with a more humble side that does not intimidate. I think you would have liked her.”
Mr. Loxley’s comment, while made innocently, had Nessa’s chest tightening as if with panic; she knew he was not suggesting anything untoward or suspicious, but that did not stop her from worrying.
“What was she like?” Nessa asked before she could stop herself. “You knew her well, no doubt?”
“Oh, very well,” he said. “And she was lovely. Truly, a perfect exemplification of her class in every way. Kind when needed, stern when called for, and always one who others looked up to.”
Nessa found herself smiling. “It is no wonder that she is missed so much.”
“She left a hole that has been hard to fill,” Mr. Loxley agreed.
“Alaric and she had a good marriage, of course. Verity got on well with her. And Crispin …” He shrugged.
“You probably see him as a sour fellow, no doubt. But he was not always that. He and Lady Thornwyck were close, and I know her death hit him quite hard.”
Nessa frowned. “No more than it did Lord Thornwyck, surely.”
Mr. Loxley hesitated but then smiled. “Of course. As I said, her death affected us all.”
It was a strange comment, and Nessa was sure that Mr. Loxley was not telling her everything.
Not that she expected him to do so. In some ways, she did not want him to say more.
As desperate as Nessa was to learn about Lady Thornwyck, she was wary of doing so.
Not only did she not want it to appear obvious, but she was still not certain of the supposed truth she had learned.
Best to keep her distance from those questions … best to pretend they did not exist until she had a reason to do otherwise.
“Now, tell me, what are you reading at the moment?” Mr. Loxley pivoted from the conversation. “Something dark and moody, no doubt?”
Nessa laughed. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Just a feeling I have.” His eyes sparkled with gleeful menace.
They walked for another ten minutes through the garden, and every second was one that Nessa coveted. It was nice to be spoken to as a person, a friend in fact, and not a member of the staff or an imposition. Better that Mr. Loxley did not want anything from her, save for good conversation.
It was thus that she returned to her room after their walk in high spirits … that was until she noticed the obvious change to her room.
Nessa came to a sudden stop, the color draining from her face as a pit opened wide in her stomach. It was the wardrobe that caught her eye, and the very obvious fact that it had been moved. Only by a foot at most, but she did not doubt that somebody had shifted it.
Oh no …
She gasped and raced for the drawer where she had hidden the locket and her mother’s letter. She rummaged for it, sighing with relief to find it was still there. But then she heard a creak …
Nessa spun about just in time to spy Lord Crispin walking past her open door. Perhaps it was a coincidence? She wanted to believe as much. But Nessa remembered what Morag had told her earlier, as she remembered seeing Lord Crispin and Lady Thornwyck speaking some time ago.
She was being watched.