Escaping Notice (13 page)

When Miss Leigh frowned at her reflection, Helen hastily reached
around her to bring the gown up. “If you truly don’t like it, I can
remove the lace before you go down to supper.”

Miss Leigh stared into the mirror. To Helen’s dismay, the older
woman’s thin lips trembled.

What had she done?

Helen gently pulled free one of the wispy curls and curled it
around her finger to smooth the fine hair. “You have lovely hair. I
hope you’ll let me dress it for you this evening.”

“Indeed! Well, we don’t have all night, and I’m late as it is.
There won’t be time for you to redo this dress. I will just have to
wear it as it is.”

“Yes, Miss.” To Helen’s consternation, Miss Leigh pressed a red
knuckle into her eye and sniffed. Helen dropped her voice to a
hesitant whisper, “Do you — do you wish to dress now?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Despite her words, the older woman leaned
against the dresser, staring blindly into the mirror. The dress
sagged in her listless fingers until Helen eased it out of her
grip.

“Is there something else I can do to assist you?”

Miss Leigh didn’t seem to hear her.

“Miss Leigh? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know ….” Miss Leigh murmured. “I don’t know. The vicar
sent a note. To Lionel.”

Helen guessed Lionel was the earl’s brother, except hadn’t Miss
Leigh said he was visiting the vicar? Perhaps she hadn’t heard her
properly. “Surely that’s not so bad? Didn’t you say the vicar is
helping the earl’s brother with his studies?”

Miss Leigh’s eyes, wide with puzzled worry, met Helen’s in the
mirror. “Why would he send a note? Should I open it?” Her hands
twisted. “Of course, I can’t. It’s addressed to Lionel. But
why?”

“Miss Leigh, perhaps you should sit down. You’re tired.” Helen
guided her to the settee near the fireplace. “Have you eaten
anything today?”

Shaking her off, Miss Leigh paced back to the mirror. “He left
days ago.”

A chill gripped Helen’s shoulder with tight, pinching fingers.
Miss Leigh must be mistaken. Lionel must have gone elsewhere.
“Well, then, you’ll simply have to save the note for Mr. Lionel.
For when he returns. Surely it can’t be that urgent?”

“Silly girl, don’t you understand anything? Lionel went to visit
the vicar days ago! If he was there, why would the vicar address a
letter to him here?”

“
Young persons, on their first entering into service, should
endeavour to divest themselves of former habits ….” —
The
Complete Servant

“Oh, well, he’s a young man, isn’t he?” Helen asked, trying to
believe there was a reasonable explanation for it. “Perhaps he
decided to visit some friends before going to the vicarage. Don’t
worry, I’m sure he is well. Now, why don’t you let me help you into
your gown and do your hair?”

After a few more minutes of coaxing, Miss Leigh allowed Helen to
help her with the task of dressing for supper. It was not until
Miss Leigh had left that Helen realized she had no idea what she
was expected to do for her own meals. Thankfully, the maid who had
come with the bedding appeared shortly after Miss Leigh joined her
guests, bringing a tray.

“Mr. Symes said I should bring a tray — just this once — since
you don’t know the schedule yet, and were busy with Miss Leigh. The
staff breakfasts are at seven, dinner’s at noon and supper’s at
five. I’m to wait and show you the kitchen and our dining room when
you’re done.” The maid chatted, staring around the tiny dressing
room while Helen ate the beef and potato soup and roll. “Lor’ I
should go right off my head in here. You can’t turn round without
knocking your elbows against a wall.”

“It
is
very … cozy.” Helen glanced up briefly from her
tray.

“And old Miss Leigh right outside your door. You’ll be lucky to
get one night’s sleep out of seven. She snores, you know.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” It was only until she could locate her
necklace. How terrible could it be? And she already felt a tiny
glow at helping Miss Leigh this evening. She had looked so much
better when she went down to supper.

The maid shrugged. “I’m just glad I’ve me own room, even though
it is under the eaves.” She picked up the heavy pitcher, turned it
over in her hands and put it back on the wobbly chest of drawers.
“That brother of yours, he’s a very healthy lad, ain’t he?”

“I suppose,” Helen said frostily. When the maid eyed her, she
amended, “He’s certainly the tallest one in our family.”

“Oh, yes. And he’s never been married, then? That’s your younger
brother who’s his assistant, not his son, by any chance?”

Oh,
dear
. “Yes. That is, Ned
is
my youngest
brother.” She hated lying, particularly when she was not sure if
Mr. Caswell were married or not. For all she knew, he might have a
loving wife back in London, waiting for him to finish his
investigation. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it
seemed probable that he had both a wife
and
a passel of
children waiting impatiently for his return.

Between spoonfuls, Helen surreptitiously studied the maid,
noting her bright eyes and avid expression. The maid’s interest
needed to be nipped in the bud.

Sighing dramatically, Helen shook her head, peering at the maid
through her eyelashes. “I tell you, it’s such a trial to have an
older brother.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I don’t know what we’ll do if we get tossed out on our
ears again.”

“Again? Why, whatever do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s been so difficult, and I
do so want to stay here. You seem so nice, too, and I could really
use a friend. But you must understand, my brother is, well, he’s
not to be trusted.”

“Not to be trusted?”

“Oh,” Helen hastened to clarify. “Not that he would steal! Oh,
no, that’s not at all what I meant. He is just
terrible
with
the female staff, nothing short of a womanizer! I know I shouldn’t
say this about my own brother, but I just don’t know what else to
do.”

“I can certainly see that,” the maid replied, her pale blue eyes
alight with excitement. “It’s easy to see he has a way about
him.”

“Please don’t let him fool you! Why, he’s abandoned I don’t know
how many others, every one of them thinking he would make an honest
women of her. Why, we had to leave our last position when two maids
named him as the man responsible for their, um, conditions. I was
mortified. It was a terrible scandal. I’m just so relieved we are
here, where no-one has heard of him. Could you, em, would you warn
the other maids not to trust him?”

“Why, the brute!” To Helen’s horror, the maid laughed. “I
daresay he hasn’t yet met the woman who can handle him. A big man
like Mr. Caswell needs a firm hand, he does.”

This was not the reaction she expected. Helen clutched the
maid’s wrist. “He’s the very devil — a terrible Lothario! No woman
can trust him.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems like the other maids simply gave in too
easy-like.” The maid twisted a pale curl around her finger.

With a failing heart, Helen realized that instead of scaring the
maid away from Mr. Caswell, she had made him more interesting and
in some mysterious way, more attractive to the other woman.

What had she done?

“
Ability to provide for the family in the best manner is
another qualification indispensably necessary in the House
Steward.” —
The Complete Servant

Unaware that Helen was busy besmirching his reputation and
making him utterly irresistible to the unmarried — and even a
significant number of
married
— female staff at Ormsby, Hugh
strolled through the main hallway to the office at the back of the
house. He did not relish the idea of going through the records; he
knew very well what they contained as he had recorded most of the
information himself.

However, as preoccupied as he was with the death of his brother,
he had to at least appear to act like the House Steward he was
supposed to be. Deep in thought, he almost ran into one of the
maids, a lass with pale brown hair, dimples and a saucy look in her
blue eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Caswell,” the maid curtseyed, “I’ve just been making
your dear sister comfortable. Such a lovely little thing. I hope
she feels she can rely on me for any little thing; any assistance
in getting settled into her new position.” She smiled at him and
thrust out her bosom to the point that he could not avoid staring
at the tempting sight. His mind went entirely blank for a good
minute. When he finally glanced up, her smile seemed positively
gloating. “And of course, if you need anything. Anything at
all
,” she emphasized, “just ring the bell and ask for
Molly.”

“Um,” Hugh’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. Somewhere above him,
Helen was trying to be an abigail to Miss Leigh. How was she
managing? “Helen will be pleased to have a friend.”

She twisted one pale curl. “Oh, yes. I hope we’re already
friends.” She seemed to want to continue talking, but Hugh could
feel Symes’ eyes on him. Servants had no real business in the front
hall, except as part of their duties. A House Steward had a little
more freedom, but no one worth his salt flirted with the maids.

Stepping forward, he nodded at Molly and dodged round her when
she seemed ready to hold him there — physically if necessary.
Thankfully, Mr. Symes was moving in their direction with a frown
compressing his mouth. Molly, noting this, flung a grin at Hugh and
fled down a narrow side corridor towards the servant area.

There was a loud knock on the front door.

Mr. Symes grimaced at Hugh and turned back without a word. When
he opened the door, Hugh slid into the doorway of the library and
waited.

Mr. Symes spoke for a few minutes to someone outside, the
stiffness of his back revealing his distaste for the visitor. Then
he stepped aside.

Knighton Gaunt strode into view. He hesitated while Mr. Symes
shut the door.

“Wait here.” Symes waved to an upholstered bench against one
wall and headed toward the staircase.

Hugh didn’t move, waiting to see whom Symes had gone to
notify.

Nearly ten minutes later, Symes returned with Miss Leigh. The
lace at her throat ruffled as she breathed noisily, her movements
sharp with agitation.

“What is it?” she asked, as soon as she caught sight of Gaunt.
“We have guests waiting in the dining room.”

“I beg your pardon,” Gaunt replied smoothly. “I’m Mr. Gaunt of
Second Sons, an inquiry agency.”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Symes already informed me of your profession.”
Her tone implied she was not impressed with his credentials. “What
do you want?”

“I’m afraid I have some news —”

“News? What news?”

“Wreckage from a boat has been discovered near Burnham-on-Sea
—”

“A boat? What boat?” She glanced toward the dining room. “Must I
remind you that I have guests waiting?”

“I understand, Miss Leigh. I apologize. However, it is my
understanding that the earl has such a boat.”

“The earl?”

“Yes, the Earl of Monnow owns a small cutter called the
Twilight, doesn’t he? Perhaps if I could speak to him?”

“He — he isn’t here,” she replied sharply. “What makes you
believe this wreckage you found was from the Twilight?”

“Perhaps I should speak to the earl?”

“I told you, he’s not here! He went sailing — oh, my! Oh, my
goodness!” She swayed, and Mr. Symes put a hand under her elbow to
steady her. “Are you saying my nephew — my nephew the Earl of
Monnow — has had an accident? Is he, is he
safe
?”

Mr. Gaunt gazed at her, his face sympathetic. “I’m afraid all we
have is wreckage.”

“Then how can you be sure? It could be wreckage from any
vessel!”

“No.” He shook his head. “We’ve found enough. We’re sure.”

“And my nephew? You say he is missing?”

“That is why I came,” Gaunt continued in a soft, soothing voice.
“I was nearby. The constable asked me to come here. We had hoped
—”

“Perhaps he did not take the Twilight out! Perhaps it was
stolen!”

“That’s certainly a possibility. When did you last see your
nephew?”

“Why, why nearly a week ago, I suppose. We had a ball and the
next day, the earl took his boat out. He enjoys sailing …. What
will, what will happen now? We must tell his brother. He has a
younger brother, Lionel. He’s at the vicar’s — oh, no.” She held
her hand to her mouth. “He just received a letter from the vicar —
where could he be? We must find him! Oh, poor Lionel — he’ll be
crushed.”

Gaunt caught the butler’s gaze. “Get a glass of brandy for Miss
Leigh. And fetch her maid.” He touched Miss Leigh’s thin wrist.
“Perhaps you should sit here, Miss Leigh. Your maid will be here
shortly. I apologize for bringing you such news.”

“Missing — both of them? Where
is
Lionel?” Her head
snapped up, her face suddenly contorted by anger. “That
irresponsible boy! He was supposed to be visiting the vicar. No
doubt he has gone to London for his own pleasures before returning
to his studies.”

Hugh watched, feeling cruel and full of pity for his aunt. Her
face was ashen as she tried to cope with the information. Lionel
had been her favorite; to all intents and purposes, her son.

How would she react when she found out Lionel had not slipped
away to London before returning to school? That he was dead?

Hugh’s gut twisted in response to her emotional turmoil and the
knowledge that this was merely the start. She might guess he was
dead, but she didn’t know. Not yet.

“What are we to do?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Hope for the best.” Gaunt touched her hand lightly, offering a
small measure of comfort. “If you could send word —”

“Yes, yes. I must go and see the vicar. He will know where to
find Lionel. He must be in London. The vicar will know.”