Year’s would take fast footwork. Annie went for her nap after luncheon, and I went to the park, looking for more mischief to get into. I spotted holly bushes and greenery to be culled later for trimming the house. Before long my feet were heading to the chapel, where my heart had been directing them all along. It was set off several hundred yards from the house, in a clearing. The door was locked, but I took a good look around the exterior. Granhurst was in yellow stone, like its ancestor. The chapel was gray. There was nothing German about it. A would-be Romanesque thing it was—low, rounded windows and recessed Romanesque doorway with some not exceptional carvings decorating the curves. The door was locked, and I knew where the key was. At Gillingham. I might have trouble talking away the Hepplewhite cabinet without a smashed lock, so I abandoned thoughts of getting inside.
I strolled around to the rear, having some trouble walking in Annie’s pattens that were a good inch too short. That was where it happened, behind the chapel, well concealed from the house. I heard a sound as of bushes rustling and hurried footsteps. The bushes moving led me to suspect a dog was loose. Granhurst might have been called “Doghurst” for the number of hounds and other canines Ludwig kept. I suspect from the quantity of dog hairs to be found on sofas and padded chairs that, prior to my arrival, they might have had the run of the Saloon, and of course I already knew the spaniel’s toilet habits. The footfalls, however, were louder than those of a dog. They were human, and stealthy. Strangely enough, I felt no fear. I was often overcome with a tide of panic for no reason, but now, when reason was there, I felt only that some maid was sneaking out to meet her beau. Bess I selected for the culprit, as she was the prettiest of the household girls.
Curiosity, one of my besetting sins, urged me to confirm my suspicion. I was in no position, nor mood for that matter, to chide her, but I wished to see who she had taken for a lover that I might twit Sir Ludwig about competition. Not that he flirted with her, actually, but she was inordinately pretty and I occasionally accused him of debauching his servants as he prided himself a little on sailing a taut ship. I went along to the back of the building, in time to see a leg disappear around the corner. Bess was flying high. It was a well-polished gentleman’s boot I got a passing glimpse of.
This promised to be rather embarrassing. If some prestigious neighbor of Kessler’s was carrying on with a housemaid, I was not particularly eager to be aware of it. I stood undecided a moment, really considering how to get away without being seen. The best way was to just return to the house as though I had heard or seen nothing, and I turned around to do so. Moving at an awkward gait because of the pattens—the old-fashioned kind with metal rings—I was slow to escape. I had not quite reached the front of the chapel when I was felled by a blow from behind. Not a hard enough blow to knock me unconscious, but enough to stun me. My pursuer had moved quickly and silently to overtake me. I fell forward, but broke the fall with my hands. By the time I reached my feet again, hollering at the top of my lungs, my assailant was gone—run back behind the church and off into the spinney beyond. Much as I would have liked to see who he was, I had not the intention of going after him. I ran back to the house as fast as I could, to find my call had been unheard. Bess was busy in the Saloon polishing the cabinet we had had brought down.
She was humming happily to herself, and looking remarkably pretty in her mobcap, with her big blue eyes twinkling merrily, and her cheeks rosy. The homey aroma of turpentine and beeswax—not one too commonly smelled at Granhurst I confess sadly—was so mundane and reassuring that I knew Bess was innocent of any part in the affair. “Oh, you took a tumble, Miss Rose!” she said,
I strolled around to the rear, having some trouble walking in Annie’s pattens that were a good inch too short. That was where it happened, behind the chapel, well concealed from the house. I heard a sound as of bushes rustling and hurried footsteps. The bushes moving led me to suspect a dog was loose. Granhurst might have been called “Doghurst” for the number of hounds and other canines Ludwig kept. I suspect from the quantity of dog hairs to be found on sofas and padded chairs that, prior to my arrival, they might have had the run of the Saloon, and of course I already knew the spaniel’s toilet habits. The footfalls, however, were louder than those of a dog. They were human, and stealthy. Strangely enough, I felt no fear. I was often overcome with a tide of panic for no reason, but now, when reason was there, I felt only that some maid was sneaking out to meet her beau. Bess I selected for the culprit, as she was the prettiest of the household girls.
Curiosity, one of my besetting sins, urged me to confirm my suspicion. I was in no position, nor mood for that matter, to chide her, but I wished to see who she had taken for a lover that I might twit Sir Ludwig about competition. Not that he flirted with her, actually, but she was inordinately pretty and I occasionally accused him of debauching his servants as he prided himself a little on sailing a taut ship. I went along to the back of the building, in time to see a leg disappear around the corner. Bess was flying high. It was a well-polished gentleman’s boot I got a passing glimpse of.
This promised to be rather embarrassing. If some prestigious neighbor of Kessler’s was carrying on with a housemaid, I was not particularly eager to be aware of it. I stood undecided a moment, really considering how to get away without being seen. The best way was to just return to the house as though I had heard or seen nothing, and I turned around to do so. Moving at an awkward gait because of the pattens—the old-fashioned kind with metal rings—I was slow to escape. I had not quite reached the front of the chapel when I was felled by a blow from behind. Not a hard enough blow to knock me unconscious, but enough to stun me. My pursuer had moved quickly and silently to overtake me. I fell forward, but broke the fall with my hands. By the time I reached my feet again, hollering at the top of my lungs, my assailant was gone—run back behind the church and off into the spinney beyond. Much as I would have liked to see who he was, I had not the intention of going after him. I ran back to the house as fast as I could, to find my call had been unheard. Bess was busy in the Saloon polishing the cabinet we had had brought down.
She was humming happily to herself, and looking remarkably pretty in her mobcap, with her big blue eyes twinkling merrily, and her cheeks rosy. The homey aroma of turpentine and beeswax—not one too commonly smelled at Granhurst I confess sadly—was so mundane and reassuring that I knew Bess was innocent of any part in the affair. “Oh, you took a tumble, Miss Rose!” she said,
Similar Books
