Escaping Notice (23 page)

“I think you need to stay here, Ned. Mr. Caswell will see you
safe. And I really think you might speak to Miss Leigh's sisters.
Just to let them know you are here. And well.”

For some reason, he was struck with a reluctance to lie to her.
So instead of making a promise he didn’t want to keep, he slowly
nodded his head again.

To his surprise, she brushed his hair off his forehead and
pressed a warm, soft kiss there.

“Do not worry, Ned. It will be fine.”

“Yes, Miss,” he replied as she turned to leave.

He watched her go and resolved then and there that he had to get
her necklace back for her, no matter what. Before he ran away.

If he could just get Miss Leigh out of her room.

“
A soft and courteous demeanour will best entitle her to
esteem and respect.” —
The Complete Servant

Helen left Ned in the workroom and returned upstairs, unsure
what to think. After speaking to him, she had the distinct
impression that he knew Miss Leigh's sisters.

There had to be a way to ask if they knew a little boy named Ned
Brown, without inappropriately pushing herself forward. She had
never realized how difficult it was to be properly invisible as a
servant, while still obtaining much-needed information. It would be
so much easier if she could just ask.

Was it time to dispose of Miss Caswell and let Miss Helen Archer
return to claim the necklace? Miss Archer could ask about Ned. She
could prevent undue worry and concern.

When she slipped into Miss Leigh's room, she discovered the two
visiting ladies sitting stiffly in wooden chairs next to Miss
Leigh's bed.

“Helen!” Miss Leigh called sharply. “Where have you been?”

“The kitchen, Miss Leigh. May I bring you a tray of tea?”

“Yes and be quick about it. My sisters are parched after their
journey. And when you've done that, make sure their rooms are
properly aired and their things put away.”

Helen bit back her question about Miss Leigh's recovery. If she
wanted tea, then she had to be feeling stronger. Certainly, she’d
lost some of the grayness in her face, although her eyes were still
sunken in deep blue-black pits and her thin lips had an unhealthy
purplish hue.

Her black-clad sisters stared at her with undisguised dislike on
their long faces. Upon closer inspection, Helen was not so shocked
at Ned's description of them. They perfectly fitted the image of
witches, despite their lack of a black cat twining round their bony
ankles. Both women wore an air of haughty disapproval, emphasized
by their stick-like figures and their thick, gray eyebrows pinched
into a perpetual frown. Even she felt sheepish and cowardly in
their presence.

She could imagine their combined effect upon a small boy.

“Yes, ma'am.” She turned swiftly and escaped, closing the door
behind her. She could wait to ask them about Ned Brown for a few
hours. Or days.

The ladies kept Helen busy for the rest of the day and late into
the night. They were forever requesting pots of tea which they
allowed to grow cold, only to demand she freshen them. Even Miss
Leigh grew exhausted with their constant chatter and insistence
that she get up every few hours and walk in order to revive her
flagging spirits.

They refused to see that the exercise did not hasten Miss
Leigh's return to health. Instead, it seemed to drain the remaining
energy from her. By midnight, Helen seriously considered risking
her position by insisting they stop torturing the sick woman. Helen
arranged the covers over Miss Leigh and eyed the two spinsters,
working up the courage to speak.

“Go to bed,” Miss Leigh rasped. “You must be exhausted after
your trip.”

“Not at all,” Miss Elvira, the older lady said. She had several
large moles on her face and was undoubtedly the plainest of the
sisters.

Helen eyed her. She would cheerfully pull her bodily out of her
chair and shove her out of the room, if she was not so sure it
would upset Miss Leigh.

Or perhaps it would not upset her.

“You
must
be tired,” Miss Leigh insisted. “It is after
midnight. You should retire. I certainly intend to sleep. There is
no point in remaining.”

“We will take turns sitting with you,” Miss Esther said,
inflating and deflating her cheeks several times. The strange habit
gave her the appearance of a fish gulping air, except that she kept
her mouth primly pursed.

Miss Elvira nodded. “I shall take the first watch.” She patted
her sister's hand with such an offensively proprietary air that
Helen twitched the covers up over Miss Leigh's arms.

After a surprised and oddly grateful glance from Miss Leigh,
Helen stepped back, trying very hard to keep her mouth shut.

“No!” Miss Leigh coughed before waving vaguely in Helen's
direction. “I have a maid. She will sit with me.”

“A
maid
!” Miss Esther gave a derisive snort and puffed
her cheeks rapidly.

“She will bring you pots of chocolate. To your rooms. To help
you relax before bed,” Miss Leigh said, a desperate note in her
tired voice.

Helen clenched her hands.
Leave! Can you not see you’re
wearing Miss Leigh right down to the bone
? They would make her
even more sick if they did not leave and allow her to rest.

“Very well. If you insist. You were always stubborn, Eloise,”
Esther said severely as she rose. She smoothed her black skirts.
“It is not a pleasant trait.”

“Good night.” Miss Leigh sighed with relief.

Limp with relief herself, Helen rushed to the door and opened it
for them. She followed the two ladies out and waited until they
went to their rooms before she hurried down to the kitchen for
their bribes of hot chocolate. To ensure their co-operation, she
even added a few small cakes to each tray. If the surfeit of sugar
did not satisfy them, she did not know what would.

To Helen's surprise, when she finally returned to Miss Leigh,
she was told to go to bed. Miss Leigh's wan face worried Helen, but
she could hardly argue.

“I will leave the door open, Miss Leigh. You have but to call
and I will return instantly.” She glanced around uneasily.

When she spied a small copper bell on a ribbon, she picked it up
and placed it on the bed next to Miss Leigh's hand.

“What are you doing?” Miss Leigh asked crossly, shaking her
wrist when Helen looped the ribbon around it.

“If you are uncomfortable or need anything at all, you have only
to lift your wrist. The bell will ring, and I will know you need
me.”

Miss Leigh shook her wrist experimentally and grinned at the
light tinkling noise. “It is a good thought, Helen. Now leave me in
peace.”

“Sleep well.” In a last burst of efficiency, Helen also went to
the door and turned the key in the lock. She glanced over her
shoulder and smiled. “Just to make sure you get a good night's
sleep.”

Miss Leigh stared at her, her thin lips trembling. Then, in a
soft voice, she spoke words Helen never expected to hear. “Thank
you — and ….” She paused for a moment. She cleared her throat. “I'm
sorry, Helen. Do not leave. Please.”

“I can stay in your room. Do not worry.”

The glimmer of a smile lit Miss Leigh's eyes. “Do not be silly —
I did not mean — that is, go to bed.”

Helen nodded, her chest tight. She could not stay at Ormsby
forever. But how could she explain? Miss Leigh would be furious
with disappointment.

What a terrible tangle.

“
Industry is necessary for all, that they may lead a useful
life ….” —
The Complete Servant

The next morning, Edward watched the three witches leave the
house together, their black skirts flapping around them like crows’
wings.
Crow-witches
, he thought with satisfaction. The trio
headed for the stupid boxwood maze in the middle of the garden, as
if they had a hope of navigating it without getting lost. And he
hoped they would get good and lost for hours. Maybe forever.

He grinned, gleefully imagining some crotchety old gardener
pruning the boxwoods and coming upon three skeletons in the center
of the maze, still wearing shiny black dresses and knitted shawls.
He would be sure to come running out, screaming in horror.

Edward watched them and waited until they entered the maze. When
the last flicker of black disappeared behind the squared edge of
green shrubbery, he dashed into the side door leading to the
workroom.

For once, he managed to sneak through the busy kitchen without
the massive cook catching him and setting him to another dismal
task. He slipped up the servants' stairs to the second floor. Then
he faced the daunting task of deciding which room belonged to Miss
Leigh. The first two doors he opened led to rooms which he felt
sure were unoccupied. The wardrobes were empty, and dust sheets
protected the covers on the beds.

The next room took a little longer to eliminate, but he
eventually decided it belonged to Aunt Elvira, based upon his
discovery of a letter addressed to her, lying on the small desk
under the window. A connecting door led to another bedroom. He
paused there, but in the end decided it must belong to Aunt Esther.
Her plaid travelling shawl was folded up on one of the shelves in
the wardrobe.

No-one else, not even Miss Leigh, would own such an ugly thing.
Closing the door behind him, he stepped into the hallway. He
glanced around and frowned. There were at least a dozen more doors
down the long hallway. It would take him all day at this rate.

Giving it some thought, he decided Miss Leigh would have wanted
her sisters close, but not too close. And Miss Leigh would want a
nice big room with windows facing the front of the house. That
meant he should try one of the doors across the hall and a little
further down.

He ignored the two doors directly across from where he stood.
The door exactly in the middle of the hall looked the most likely
to him.

He ran down to it and thrust it open. The bed was neatly made,
but there was a silver brush and comb precisely aligned on top of a
small table. A ewer filled with water stood in a basin on a
washstand in the corner, with a pair of embroidered linen towels
hanging from the wooden rack attached to the side.

His heart pounded. He knew he had found the right room. Glancing
over his shoulder, he checked the hallway. Then he slipped inside
and closed the door behind him. In a small spurt of panic, he
opened the door again and examined the hallway. The thick wood
muffled sounds. He might not hear if the crow-witches returned.

But he had to risk it for Helen. She’d be so grateful if he
presented the necklace to her. His heartbeat tripled briefly with
anxiety at the thought that she might then leave. He would never
see her again.

No. She’d be grateful. And anyway, he was planning to join the
navy. In a few years, he would come back and marry her. Finding the
necklace would guarantee she’d wait for him.

And being a clever lad and well-used to hiding things from his
aunts, he knew precisely where to look. It was only a matter of
minutes before he found an entire collection of jewelry: all sorts
of odds and ends, including several necklaces. But only one had a
huge green emerald, as big as a duck egg, right in the center.

He slipped it into his pocket and then hesitated over the rest
of the hoard. It was a true pirate’s treasure, including several
rings. One had a large green stone, the color of a new leaf and
much lighter than the emerald in the center of the necklace, but
still nice. He could give it to Miss Helen to seal their
engagement.

He turned it over in his hands and even put it on his thumb to
examine more closely. In the end, he sighed and plucked it off his
finger and returned it to the drawer. While Miss Helen would be
relieved to get her necklace back, he was not sure how she’d feel
about the ring.

She might ask questions and if Miss Leigh saw it on Miss Helen's
finger, well, he did not want to cause trouble for her. He had
plenty of experience in that quarter with the aunts, so he’d have
to buy her a ring later. There would be plenty of time. When he was
in the navy, he’d have his pick of jewels from anywhere in the
world; India, South America, or even China. It would be a fabulous
gem, too, and not just a faded green thing that was probably just
paste, anyway.

He closed the drawer and glanced around. The room looked as
coldly tidy as it had when he entered.

His streak of luck held when he left the room. The hallway was
still deserted. He made it down to the kitchen before his good
fortune ran out.

“Ah, there he is,” cook said. She hefted a huge basket in one
meaty hand and thrust it at Edward.

“Not more potatoes,” Edward muttered.

The cook laughed. “Peas today, as a change. Just shell 'em and
bring the lot back. If you get 'em back within the hour, I'll have
a bun and glass of lemonade standing fresh on the sideboard for
you.”

Edward nodded, not particularly impressed with the prospective
treat. Nonetheless, he took the basket willingly enough and went to
the workroom. If anyone came back, he would be calmly occupied.

No-one would ever suspect that he had stolen Miss Helen's
necklace right out of the bedroom of one of the crow-witches of
Ormsby.

“
Exercise due diligence as to what are the particular duties
of your station.” —
The Complete Servant

A few days later, Hugh took a turn in the garden in an attempt
to clear his mind. His first decision involved his aunt. She had
most assuredly recovered enough to be questioned about the jacket
and cap. The color of the hair discovered in the cap was debatable,
but the fact remained that the clothing had been found in her
possession. The odds were, it was her hair.