water, the way her cousins and brothers did, and laughing the way they did.
“Charlotte, you had better let me drive,” said Lizzie. “You are not paying atten—Look out!”
Two hours later
After fuming for a time, Darius put Goodbody in charge of restoring order to the library. With a superfluity of servants about, the valet would have all put to rights in no time. It would give the housemaids something to do, now that Lady Lithby wasn’t here to keep them busy.
Darius knew there was a pecking order among servants. Certain maids were trusted with certain areas of the house and certain tasks. Furthermore, even the most high-ranking maids were not allowed to wield so much as a feather duster in areas reserved to certain menservants. But sorting out precedence was best left to Goodbody, who understood and cared about such things.
Darius might have cared more had any of the maids been pretty. Since they weren’t, he left the valet in charge and went to the stable, where he had only one groom, Joel Rogers, to deal with.
Darius had promised to evaluate the paving today, and decide whether to repair or replace it, along with the antiquated drainage system.
As he neared the stable, the groom hurried out. “You heard, then, sir?” said Rogers. “I saddled the mare, thinking you’d want her.”
“Heard what?” Darius said. The back of his neck prickled.
“About the accident, sir. Along your road.”
The world blurred and chilled for a moment, as though a cold fog had swept in. “What accident?” Darius said levelly.
“Lady Charlotte, sir, and Lady Lithby,” said the groom. “I heard they caught in a rut and broke a wheel.”
In his mind’s eye, Darius saw Lady Charlotte’s mangled body carried home on a ladder. To block out the nightmare image, he asked questions. The groom had little additional information. He’d heard the news from the blacksmith, who’d recognized the damaged vehicle when he passed it on his way here.
Within minutes, Darius was upon his horse.
It did not take long to find the place, though, thanks to the ruts, he had to make his way slowly. He found the dog cart on its side at the edge of the road. The wheel was badly broken, and one of the shafts was damaged.
Then he saw spots of blood. Logic told him this didn’t necessarily bode calamity. Logic pointed out that if anything truly disastrous had happened, the news would have flown through the neighborhood. Since it was his road, people would have been pounding on the door to tell him, Logic said.
Logic might as well have spoken to the nearest tree.
Darius made for Lithby Hall with as much speed as the crater-filled road would allow.
The house appeared normal enough when he arrived. No weeping or wailing issued from any of the open windows. The outdoor servants had not gathered nearby, as they would during a catastrophe, to await news.
He looked toward the first-floor windows. He remembered Lady Charlotte dabbing at her damp breasts with his handkerchief. He recalled the potent woman-scent he’d inhaled.
He imagined the drawn curtains at one west-facing window abruptly pulled open, revealing the lady risen from her bath and as naked as the Botticelli Venus, her fair hair streaming over her shoulders, the late-afternoon sun gilding her silken skin.
Are you insane? he asked himself. You’d better hope no worse has happened than her needing a bath. You’d better hope that body is in one piece.
As he reached the stables, he heard shouting.
Not a good sign.
One of the stablemen hovering in the doorway, avidly taking in the dispute, looked round at Darius’s approach. He left the door and hastened to attend to the visitor.
Darius dismounted, gave over his horse, and was about to ask for news when a familiar female voice pierced the snarling and snapping of the males: “No, it must be cleansed with warm water! Give me that cloth, Jenkins. No, Fewkes, do not interrupt. Wait. I need to think.”
Darius went to the
“Charlotte, you had better let me drive,” said Lizzie. “You are not paying atten—Look out!”
Two hours later
After fuming for a time, Darius put Goodbody in charge of restoring order to the library. With a superfluity of servants about, the valet would have all put to rights in no time. It would give the housemaids something to do, now that Lady Lithby wasn’t here to keep them busy.
Darius knew there was a pecking order among servants. Certain maids were trusted with certain areas of the house and certain tasks. Furthermore, even the most high-ranking maids were not allowed to wield so much as a feather duster in areas reserved to certain menservants. But sorting out precedence was best left to Goodbody, who understood and cared about such things.
Darius might have cared more had any of the maids been pretty. Since they weren’t, he left the valet in charge and went to the stable, where he had only one groom, Joel Rogers, to deal with.
Darius had promised to evaluate the paving today, and decide whether to repair or replace it, along with the antiquated drainage system.
As he neared the stable, the groom hurried out. “You heard, then, sir?” said Rogers. “I saddled the mare, thinking you’d want her.”
“Heard what?” Darius said. The back of his neck prickled.
“About the accident, sir. Along your road.”
The world blurred and chilled for a moment, as though a cold fog had swept in. “What accident?” Darius said levelly.
“Lady Charlotte, sir, and Lady Lithby,” said the groom. “I heard they caught in a rut and broke a wheel.”
In his mind’s eye, Darius saw Lady Charlotte’s mangled body carried home on a ladder. To block out the nightmare image, he asked questions. The groom had little additional information. He’d heard the news from the blacksmith, who’d recognized the damaged vehicle when he passed it on his way here.
Within minutes, Darius was upon his horse.
It did not take long to find the place, though, thanks to the ruts, he had to make his way slowly. He found the dog cart on its side at the edge of the road. The wheel was badly broken, and one of the shafts was damaged.
Then he saw spots of blood. Logic told him this didn’t necessarily bode calamity. Logic pointed out that if anything truly disastrous had happened, the news would have flown through the neighborhood. Since it was his road, people would have been pounding on the door to tell him, Logic said.
Logic might as well have spoken to the nearest tree.
Darius made for Lithby Hall with as much speed as the crater-filled road would allow.
The house appeared normal enough when he arrived. No weeping or wailing issued from any of the open windows. The outdoor servants had not gathered nearby, as they would during a catastrophe, to await news.
He looked toward the first-floor windows. He remembered Lady Charlotte dabbing at her damp breasts with his handkerchief. He recalled the potent woman-scent he’d inhaled.
He imagined the drawn curtains at one west-facing window abruptly pulled open, revealing the lady risen from her bath and as naked as the Botticelli Venus, her fair hair streaming over her shoulders, the late-afternoon sun gilding her silken skin.
Are you insane? he asked himself. You’d better hope no worse has happened than her needing a bath. You’d better hope that body is in one piece.
As he reached the stables, he heard shouting.
Not a good sign.
One of the stablemen hovering in the doorway, avidly taking in the dispute, looked round at Darius’s approach. He left the door and hastened to attend to the visitor.
Darius dismounted, gave over his horse, and was about to ask for news when a familiar female voice pierced the snarling and snapping of the males: “No, it must be cleansed with warm water! Give me that cloth, Jenkins. No, Fewkes, do not interrupt. Wait. I need to think.”
Darius went to the
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