Shadowed by Sin (7 page)

Benedict quit hesitating and knocked on the door, waiting for an invitation. Moments later, a gust of air swooshed before him as the earl presented himself.

“What do you want? Do you know anything about my broken vase?” asked Lord Cuthbert.

He raised a brow at his host’s stern and volatile tone. “I do not. I was too busy trying to figure out who has been in Estelle’s room poisoning her with laudanum.”

The earl took a step back, his eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips and inhaled sharply. “What do you mean she’s been given laudanum?”

“I meant every word of what I said. If you will let me in, I have my own questions to ask you.” He followed the earl in and waited to speak until he locked the library door. Benedict winced at the sight of the shards of glass strewn across the floor; then returned his gaze to his host who eyed him warily.

“How do you know that it was laudanum? Is it not possible your fiancée could have a problem that you are unaware of?”

Benedict scowled, his chest tightened, and the need to pummel the man for the insult rose to the surface. Never in his life had he heard such a ridiculous thought. Estelle never medicated herself, nor suffered any ailments to his immediate knowledge. The only time he’d ever seen a woman—his mother—seeking some sort of remedy, it was during her menses to ease her discomfort. A sorry truth he wished he didn’t know about.

“I shall have you know, my lord, that Estelle addicted to pain medicine is about as likely as pigs flying. Someone gave it to her and I want to know who in this house would be in possession of such a drug.”

The earl sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Awareness flashed in his eyes, and it was in that time Benedict recognized the earl knew precisely who had access to such a powerful sedative in the house.

“I implore you, Lord Cuthbert. I must know who did this to her.”

“I can assure you, St. John, the only person who would have access to laudanum wasn’t the one who did it. Someone must have stolen it.”

“What are you talking about? And how can you be certain of this?”

“Because it simply could not have been my wife. You know that as well. She was with me the entire time up until I came into my library to discover my vase destroyed.”

The earl’s admission still left the questions of who had stolen the drug and why feed it to Estelle. Again the thought caused him further worry. Had she seen something she shouldn’t have?

“If that is the case, then who do you suppose would have had the opportunity to take the countess’s medication?”

The earl exhaled and leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “I don’t know, St. John, but I will find out. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have some peace.”

Benedict inclined his head, left his seat, and returned to his room. He’d discover who the culprit was, and the earl wouldn’t be able to save them.

* * * *

Estelle watched the maid move to and fro, cleaning and reorganizing, humming a somber tune she recognized from childhood. Every so often she caught the maid watching her, and then she’d get back to keeping busy, until the maid ended up sitting at her bedside.

“Miss Humphrey, I know we do not know each other, but—” She quivered and then continued, “But do you believe in spirits coming back on unfinished business?”

“I am starting to.”

“If you do not mind my saying so, I heard you telling Lord St. John that you saw the master’s niece. I should warn you this house is cursed. The servants are afraid of the master’s nephew, Edwin, as well. Apparently every time he is around, someone gets hurt.”

She never dreamed that Edwin held that much power over anyone; yet even Helen, before she mysteriously died, found her brother peculiar. What an odd inclination too. This house had way too many secrets and before she and Benedict left, she’d uncover some of its clandestine truths.

“Mary, did Helen have any journals or letters that the countess might have kept? If so, may I see them?”

“I do believe the countess had all of Helen’s belongings brought to the attic in the west wing.”

“Do you think you could take me some time?”

“I would be happy to, Miss, but it would be proper if his lordship showed you around. I do believe he had planned on doing so at some point tomorrow afternoon. However, I do not think that part of the house is anything he had in mind. From what I understood of the butler, a tour of the family’s gallery and grounds is being arranged.”

“But I do not wish to wait that long. Dash it.” Estelle scowled, folding her arms across her chest, pondering how she could learn more about their surroundings and the family’s history. Even more, the possibility of how much treachery lurked about this house.

“Do not be put out, Miss. While I cannot take you on a tour to the service and storage wings of the estate, there is, however, this.” The maid went over to the paneled wall next to the hearth, uncovering a bookshelf. She withdrew a journal and returned to the bed with it, placing the leather bound item on Estelle’s lap. “Miss Cuthbert carried herself quite gracefully and I am surprised she did not have men lined up in the courtyard. The silly chit spoke of aspirations beyond the traditional expectations of marriage. The gentleman who fell onto the terrace tonight…they were secretly engaged for a few months.”

Helen never mentioned a secret betrothal. Estelle wondered why she kept it secret all that time and for how long? Unquestionably, her uncle knew something. One could not be so ignorant to the blissful state she would have been in, to be in love with someone.

Estelle opened the diary and skimmed through the pages, when a few letters fell out of the back. There were three letters addressed to Helen from Gabriel Templeton, her deceased fiancé and dead by the hands of whom? Had he been so distraught to take his own life at the same estate where his beloved perished?

The more Estelle pondered the subject, the more she desired to know just who exactly trespassed her room, and how they managed to escape without being caught by the footman outside of the chamber.

“Mary, I desperately want a tour of the home. Can you not simply just let me have a peek?”

The maid’s eyes narrowed, and she turned away. “I am sorry, Miss Humphrey. I cannot and will not jeopardize my employment this night. However, if you find that you miss out on the excursion that his lordship has planned for tomorrow, I will then arrange for a quick tour. Until then, I would advise that you steer clear of the halls at night. There is no telling what kinds of specters haunt them, and with so many guests about, I do not want you to find yourself in any kind of conundrum. Besides, you are still recovering from the incident earlier today and I recommend that you rest. If you would like, I can summon your aunt?”

“Please, do not trouble her. She is up in her years and does require her rest. I will stay here, but if it is not too much trouble, I would like to know more about the family.”

Mary placed her rag down and dragged a chair from the corner to her bedside. She folded her hands in her lap, licked her lips, and quietly whispered, “Where do you want me to begin?”

“From the beginning, or what you know of it.”

“Hmm, I can only go back to what I have been told. The Marquess of Haverford, the earl’s late father, inherited this estate shortly after the chapel burnt to a crisp. That is all I know, Lady Humphrey.”

“How about just a short and quick tour of where Helen’s things are kept, and I will never speak again on the subject?”

“Lord St. John might not be too pleased if you leave your room, but I suppose he won’t be too angry if you are not alone. Let me see if I can arrange for one of the footmen to escort us.”

The eager maid stuck her head out and whispered to the man guarding the door. He replied with a harshness to his voice, but Estelle could only make out his vow to source another footman to mind his post while he took them.

A knock on the door strayed her from her idle reflection. The bold footman popped his head into the room. “We best be going now, before someone gets suspicious.”

Estelle jumped out of bed, no longer feeling the effects of the drugged haze, and wrapped her shawl around her tightly. They made their way through the house. Murmurs of conversations floated from within the rooms off the passages. Tension coiled up in her muscles, and yet excitement threatened to burst from her veins over their exploration. They reached another door when the footman turned to face her.

“Miss Humphrey, from this point on, we’ll be using the service stairs to access the attic. Mind your Ps and Qs, and no one will think to question why you are travelling this way.”

Estelle followed the footman with the maid continuing on from behind her. The dimly-lit corridor, combined with the sounds of servants climbing into their creaking beds, besieged her with an unsettling feeling of the calm before the storm. Since their arrival to Hawthorne Hall, this had been the first time she noticed the floorboards squeaking. Their instability mixed with the noisy sound of their footsteps sent shivers up her spine. It was not as if she weighed terribly heavy either. In truth, she weighed maybe a slight over seven stones.
This part of the house must have been a part of the old estate before it was rebuilt,
she speculated.

Estelle tugged on her maid’s sleeve, leaned over and whispered, “Just how many service halls are there, Mary?”

“One for each wing, Miss. While we’re permitted to use the main hallways, our mistress would prefer that we use those passages when transporting laundry or cleaning.”

“One would think that’s an awful lot of unused space for mischief.”

“Indeed, Miss. Although most of the mischief lately has been committed in the openness of the manor.”

“You’ll have to show me which window Mr. Templeton fell from. I heard Ben telling one of his friends that he was not even in his room when the accident occurred.”

The maid gasped loud enough for the footman to hear and he whispered back tersely, “Quiet, you two. We have another hall to follow and one last flight of stairs.”

Their procession continued at the bottom of the next staircase. The footman reached for a candlestick and then began the ascent to a part of the house where, from the exterior, one would note a slight tower.

Two steps into her climb, Estelle heard a faint grunt and the sound of something being slid or scratched against a wall.

“Did you hear that, Mary?” she asked the maid.

Mary shrugged. “Hear what, Miss?”

“Someone is scratching the wall, but from the other side. How odd.”

“I told you earlier, Miss. The house is haunted.”

Estelle’s heart hammered in her chest and her shoulders tensed. Too preoccupied by the notion of the manor being haunted, she ran into the back of the footman, who turned around and glared at the maid. “For the hundredth time, Mary, quit this haunted nonsense, or I will be telling the housekeeper about this unscheduled trip. I might also feel inclined to include, Miss Humphrey, that proper decorum would dictate one should ask their host for a tour of the premises during the day.”

The footman scowled, and she knew it was her fault after all, but there was too much to be explained, and at the rate things were going, no one was going to keep her informed. Besides, staying in her room would have been dreadfully dull and after her swoon, she did not care be in there alone.

The footman reached into his coat and pulled out a key. He pushed the door open, and the musty smell was so strong, she was forced to turn away, and missed that first glance into the empty room.

Estelle swatted the air, clearing the cloud of dust around her, and stepped into the attic. Dark places like these made adventure stories all the more surreal. What kind of secrets would she find in here? Would she uncover a murderous plot? Knowing that she wouldn’t have too much time to explore, she walked around the small room, looking for a trunk or anything that appeared feminine.

“Over there, Miss, by the window. That is where the mistress wanted Helen’s belongings moved to.”

Estelle quickly made her way and opened the trunk. The top had been cluttered with articles of clothing and personal effects. Shifting the items to the side, she found some books and a bag. When she opened the bag, its contents felt like folded up pieces of paper, but the lack of light hindered any possibility to verify what they were. She pulled them out, and a book to hide them in. Estelle got up and closed the trunk, returning to the door where the maid and footman waited for her.

“What are you doing with that book, Miss?”

“I thought I should like to read it.”

“The master has a well-stocked library. Why not choose something from there?”

“If Helen had a book stowed away, it is likely deemed more suitable for the female populace. I am sure nothing in your master’s library is romantic.”

The footman snorted and showed her the way out, ensuring he locked the door behind him.

“Come along now, you two. I think we have tarried long enough.”

And that we have, I cannot wait to see what’s in those letters.
Estelle tugged on the maid’s arm to pull her closer. “Do you think there is any chance my room can be changed?”

“I’m certain, but I will ask the housekeeper in the morning if it’s possible.”

Estelle couldn’t possibly wait that long to see Ben. She’d have to wait until the maid left her, and would sneak into his room before anyone noticed.

How she hoped Ben would allow her to stay and keep him company. She wanted to be held, consoled, and she wanted to hear his sweet, deep voice until it lulled her to sleep. No longer was she satisfied with his soft fingers cradling her face while he kissed her gently; Estelle needed him in an unfamiliar, yet warm way.

These sentiments flooded her with a foreign desire. They had shared light intimate moments when her father left the room; Ben stepped closer to her one day, as she looked out of the window in the morning room, his arousal pressing against her bottom when he wrapped his arms around her, whispering of the delights in which they would both indulge. Behaving with decorum ceased to exist when he stood so close to her. Ben shared with her a deep connection she did not realize had ever existed before now. Why on earth did she feel so confused by these complex emotions?