Midnight Secrets (8 page)

My investigation had progressed very little, but I hadn’t ventured from my room to explore again. The things I’d learned about Mary since the night of Jamie’s outburst had been subtle remembrances of my cousin that I’d overheard in conversations between the servants. Mary had touched each of them in a special way. Just as she’d been teaching Bridget’s sister, Flora, to sing, she done a number of kind things for the others, too.

I had yet to meet the child Mary had come to Killdaren’s Castle to teach, and I thought this extremely odd. I’d lived a week in a house, albeit a massive home, but I’d heard nothing from a child. No laughter, no playing, no shouting, nothing. I’d asked Bridget about Rebecca as much as I dared, commenting on how quiet she was, and Bridget would only reply that the child wasn’t well. The answer left me wondering what “not well” meant.

My first perceptions of those at Killdaren’s Castle hadn’t changed, only deepened over the past days. But more importantly, after a week of bathing from a basin, I was desperate for a bath—and even more desperate for any sense of my life before coming to this place. I missed my sisters terribly.

“Now that’s a thing to ’ave nightmares o’er, I tell ya.”

Glancing up, I saw Bridget nod toward the Killdaren’s maze, her expression more fearful than ever. “Have. Remember to try and not drop your h’s. Now what do you mean about the maze?”

“Not h…ere,” she whispered, pronouncing the h as she glanced about.

I looked and found nothing amiss, yet her furtive response dimmed the brightness of the day and had me checking over my shoulder more than once.

She didn’t speak until we were out of sight of the castle, on the lonely path to the village edging the forest. “Makes me shiver just to look at the maze. Ya can’t see where yer goin’ when yer in it. Ya can’t see who’s behind ya. Not a good feelin’ at all, and whot’s worse—” Bridget’s voice dropped low as she leaned my way, her eyes big blue saucers, “—it’s whispered that
she
died in there, ya know, but no one speaks of it.”

I stumbled though the path lay smooth. Bridget caught my elbow, bringing us to a halt. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, slurring my words. “M-m-mary? I thought you said she drowned?”

“Ack. I forgot. Ya wouldn’t know about Lady Helen, now would ya. It h-happened a ways back. Wouldn’t know much myself except Flora’s best friend worked for the Kennedys. Sad thing it were. Her father up and killed himself after it h-happened, too. Their house has lain silent ever since. They say it’s ’aunted. The father left a note saying he was going to h-heaven to hear his angel sing. Even the Queen requested Lady Helen to sing for her on occasion. ’er beauty was ten times that of Helen o’ Troy. Had to have been, to have every eligible man for miles after h-her hand. And all of them jealous of the other, especially the Killdaren brothers. Golden hair and cornflower eyes, she h-had.” Bridget blinked at me several times, her brow creasing to a frown. “Like you, miss, ya might say. And I kept all of my h’s, I did.”

“You did well.” But my thoughts weren’t on Bridget’s progress, they were on what she’d just said. Golden hair and cornflower eyes. Like you, miss.
And like Mary
, I thought. Mary’s hair had been golden.
Except her eyes had been different
. Mary’s had been brown, but mine were blue.

I glanced about. Everything appeared normal; still I became uneasy. Finding a commonality between a woman who’d been murdered and my cousin, who I suspected had died under suspicious circumstances, wrapped an eerie feeling around me.

“Let’s hurry to the village.”

Bridget didn’t argue. In fact, I think after snatching off her falling mob cap, she moved even faster than I did until we were somehow racing as fast as we could, something no lady would ever be seen doing. With perspiration soaking our dresses and our hair awry, we were quite a sight. I paused for air, feeling a little ridiculous, but oddly exhilarated too. As if the sensation of danger just a breath away made me more alive than years of trudging though my daily routine. The notion was as unsettling as learning Helen had been murdered in the maze.

Bridget, with her cheeks flushed like bright new apples, her eyes shining, and her red hair flowing free, appeared more beautiful than ever. “Blimey, but that was fun.” We stopped on the side of the road, hearing an approaching carriage. After just a week of working on reading she’d grown more confident as well as easier to understand. Next we’d work on her g’s.

The carriage, sporting the Killdaren double dragon crest, flew past, steering purposely into a puddle near us. Mud splattered our skirts and raised my ire to a previously unknown level as I heard the occupants laugh. “That’s twenty shillings,” the driver called to the men.

“The bloody arses did that on purpose.”

“Idiot buffoons.” I brushed at my skirts. “Ladies aren’t supposed to say bloody or arse. Who was it?”

“Not the Killdaren, I’ll wager. And Lord Alexander always rides one of ’is fancy ’orses. So it ’ad to be either the earl and Sir Warwick, or someone visiting Dragon’s Cove.” Anger had made her drop her h’s again. I didn’t say anything this time.

“I thought no one ever visited the Killdarens.”

“No one proper. But the viscount ’as been known to—” Bridget’s voice died as a man on a white horse raced up. He slowed as he passed and I saw with surprise that it was Stuart Frye. He rode like a gentleman to the manner born, but when he saw us, he became so distracted for some reason he almost fell from the saddle when his horse leaped forward.

Bridget grabbed my arm as if needing support. When I glanced her way, I found her face had blanched white.

“What is it, Bridget?”

“Nothing. The man races as if the devil’s on ’is arse, don’t ’e?”

“Stuart?”

“Who else? Rides around like ’e’s the bloody Killdaren or the viscount.”

“The viscount would be Sean Killdaren’s brother, right?” Though I knew that, I wanted to hear what Bridget had to say about him.

“Aye, Lord Alexander, the Viscount of Blackmoor. ’e lives on the other side of the forest in Dragon’s Cove in a larger castle, as ’e’s, h-he’s the heir to the title. Earl of Dartraven he’ll be someday, since he was birthed first. Heard it said they came out of the womb with their ’ands, uh, h-hands around each other’s throats. Alexander feet first and Sean headfirst, killed their mama in the birthin’ of ’em.”

“Good Lord. Is there nothing but tragedy upon the Killdarens’ doorstep?” I was pleased to see Bridget remember to correct her own speech.

“It’s the curse, mind ya.”

“All their wealth, and yet they’re poorer than you or me when it comes to what really matters.”

Bridget gave me a puzzled look. “Ye have an odd way of thinkin’. Ha! The Killdarens poor.”

“Think about it, Bridget. Would you want to have all that they possess if it meant that your mother died in childbirth? If it meant you would either kill your sister or she would kill you?”

“Aye. I would.” Bridget sighed. “No, and ya knew it afor ya asked. Ack, what are you doin’ to me mind, Cassie? Me mother would cosh me had she heard, giving up all that wealth, just to have me family.” She giggled and grabbed my arm, urging us into town.

We stopped on the street to part. “Can’t wait to see me mum and little brother. We’re havin’ meat pies and sweet cake for my birthday.”

“You didn’t tell me. When is your birthday?”

“This Friday. I’ll be eighteen. Old enough to be kissed, right?”

“Well, yes. If the gentleman had honorable intentions and asked your permission, I suppose it would be all right.” I was shocked to learn that she was no older than Gemini.

“Blimey, all of that has to happen first? Have you ever been kissed, Cassie?”

Heat plastered my cheeks. “No.” I’d been too busy writing my proper advice column to associate with gentlemen enough to reach the kissing point in a relationship. “Why?”

Bridget sighed. “Just wondering what it was like. Ye’ve a funny notion about yerself, what with always bathin’ and no snorin’ and no kissin’ unless it’s all proper. It all seems so complicated.” She pointed down the street. “Remember to meet me at the church right there on time. Mrs. Frye will have our hides if we’re late.”

As I watched Bridget leave, I found myself wondering what a kiss would be like. Sean intruded into my thoughts and I imagined him kissing me. Shock rippled up my spine. Good lord. The man was a stranger and a dangerous one at that. What was wrong with me? I dashed to Seafarer’s Inn as if the devil was on my heels.

The carriage with the Killdaren’s double dragon crest on it pulled away from the entrance of the inn as I approached. As I watched it disappear in the direction of the village, an eerie warning crept over me. Who from the Killdaren household had come to the inn? And why?

I considered going to Constable Poole to see if he’d made any more inquiries into Mary’s disappearance, but decided to keep my presence at Killdaren’s Castle a secret for now and just have Aunt Lavinia call on him later in the week.

Easing around to the servants’ entrance, I stole quietly through the downstairs of the inn. The guest parlors were empty and the dining area full. I didn’t see anyone I recognized and gave up my search for who had come to the inn. Taking care not to be seen, I went to the apartments my family had rented. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard several maids coming down the corridor, and I quickly let myself inside.

Ensconced in the sitting room lounged my Aunt Lavinia and my sisters, all teary-eyed and clutching pastel handkerchiefs that wafted so heavily of perfume it made my nose itch. Tea sat untouched on the marble-topped rosewood table between them.

Andromeda stared at me as she dabbed at her tears. I came to a sudden stop. Their state didn’t shock me. Mine did.

I’d had tea every day of my life since I could remember, yet in the time I’d been at Killdaren’s Castle, which seemed tremendously longer than a week, I’d never even thought once of a scone or clotted cream or tea. My mouth watered and my stomach twisted.

“My word, but I am ravenous. You’d think I’d not eaten in a fortnight.” Striding forward, I slipped some scones from the tray and popped one into my mouth, ashamedly not even bothering to use one of the dainty china plates delicately painted with miniature roses.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Andromeda shouted and stood, an angry flush staining her cheeks.

I quickly swallowed the bite of scone. “Andrie? Whatever is the matter with you?”

“Cassie?” she gasped her mouth falling agape.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Aunt Lavinia waved her kerchief as if she were about to faint.

“Good Lord, Cassie. But you’re a sight! You’ve mud on your skirts.” Andromeda shook her head. “And your face as well.”

“What skirts?” Gemini dabbed her eyes dry and gave me a slight grin. “She’s all but wearing sackcloth. She’s a fallen woman!”

“You’ve a mob cap on, Cassie! I thought you were the cleaning maid!” Andromeda piped in an unusually high-pitched voice, her eyes wide with shock.
 

“Since that’s what I am masquerading as, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Raising my hand to my cheek, I indeed found a bit of mud. A frantic feeling swept over me. “Good Lord, but I need a bath! You do have heated water, don’t you?”

“You’re masquerading. Just like a spy for the Crown! How intriguing,” Gemini said. “Why we could all go there and—”

I choked on the last of the scone I’d stuffed into my mouth and coughed until tears fell. “Absolutely not,” I said as soon as I could speak. “Not one of you will come near Killdaren’s Castle, and there is nothing the least intriguing about scrubbing yourself blind from dawn to dusk, with no bath, and having rough wool itch you horribly everywhere.”

Andromeda gasped again and grabbed my fingers, looking at the reddened skin and blisters. “You’re hurt!”

Gemini jumped up and then both of them hugged me, muttering at how awful the situation was.

“I’m not hurt. I just want a bath. Please tell me you have hot water ready.” Surely they would have thought to do so. Nobody seemed to hear me.

“Oh, Cassie, this is dreadful. I’ll not have you harming yourself for this,” Aunt Lavinia said. “You mustn’t go back. We’ll find out what happened to Mary another way. I’ve already written a letter to the magistrate in Dartmouth and I’m sure he’ll be able to coerce Constable Poole to make a more in-depth inquiry into Mary’s drowning.”

Gemini pressed her handkerchief to her nose and backed away from me. “You smell very odd.” She furrowed her brow.

“More than odd, rather ripe,” Andromeda said.

“Worse,” Gemini added. “Like a wet dog hiding in a rose garden on a hot day.”

I stared at them, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time. An itch in the middle of my back seemed to spread. “A bath. All I want is a bath. I would give a fortune to have a hot bath. Servants don’t have the same privileges as we often enjoy, it seems.” I wanted to soak away the dirt and the aches more than I wanted to breathe.

“I’m sorry. The maids just emptied all the bath water and carried the tub away. We’ve water basins in our rooms—”

Tears stung and I shook my head. The town’s clock rang the time and I realized it would take too long to order a bath and still have time to speak with my sisters as needed. At home, I never once considered where, when or how our servants tended to their own personal needs. My disappointment and frustration came with a humble and bitter draught.

Gemini must have sensed my upset and pressed a cup of tea into my hands, then shoved a chair behind me. “Rest a minute,” she said.

“I’m all right.” But I sat anyway and gulped the sweetened creamed tea, trying to bite back my emotions and gather myself. “There is much I need to tell you. First, Aunt Lavinia, I need to know if you’ve received any of Mary’s belongings?”

“They informed me at the castle that they’d sent Mary’s things to my address in Brighton before I arrived here.”

“Mary always kept a diary when we were little, do you know if she still did?”

“I would think so, especially since she was so far from home.” Tears filled Aunt Lavinia’s reddened eyes.