Shadow on the Highway by Deborah Swift

yesterday.’
    ‘But I put it away last night. Have you got two pairs?’
    ‘No.’ Now she sat up, awake, watching me. ‘You must have forgotten, I don’t know how it got there.’
    I sensed something wary in her attitude, and the way she stared at my face. And she looked tired, there were dark circles under her eyes.
    A few days later I found the brooch lying under her mirror on her dressing table. It was the one Lady Ann had been wearing when she came to dinner. I’d noticed the brooch particularly because it was shaped like a thistle with a large purple stone set in it, and I remembered thinking the stone was so large it could not possibly be real.
    ‘Lady Ann has left her brooch,’ I said.
    ‘No. It’s mine,’ Lady Katherine said, plucking it up quickly from where it lay.
    ‘But Lady Ann had one just like it –’
    ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said.
    ‘Yes milady,’ I said, knowing I wasn’t. ‘Are you going to wear it?’
    ‘No.’ She was sharp, but then she said, ‘Not today.’ And she pushed it away to the bottom of the marquetry box where she kept her trinkets.
    I remember thinking it was strange. So that was the second thing.
    They say things run in threes, and I didn’t have to wait long for the third.
    When I woke the next day it was a beautiful day, but unseasonably hot and airless. There had been a welcome downpour in the night and now the sun was making the fields steam. I thought I would open the windows and doors to let a little air through, so I went into Thomas’s adjoining room to throw open the windows. As I walked across I saw that his lordship’s tallboy was open and I went over to shut it. His black wool cloak was dangling there from a hook, but the hem was damp and full of mud.
    I hesitated. It needed to dry out and be brushed. I pulled it out and lay it out on the chair, puzzling over it. As I did so, a pair of his breeches tumbled out and a shirt. All were damp. I put my nose to them, but they smelt fresh, not like a dampness that had been there for weeks. A faint scent tugged at my senses – cinnamon and rose, like the Lady Katherine, but it was so faint I did not know if it came from the cloak or my memory.
    As far as I knew, the men had not returned. So who had worn these? Pushed to the back of the shelf were a pair of Thomas’s boots, the mud still wet on the soles. I left them alone, but went downstairs to ask Mistress Binch if the men had been back.
    ‘No. I wish they would. It’s hardly worth cooking anything elaborate for just one. Lady Katherine and Mr Grice have to make do with servant fare when they are away, and it’s so dull making it.’
    I did not tell her why I asked.
    A few days later Lady Katherine asked me if I would clean his lordship’s riding clothes. ‘He will be home soon, and he must have forgotten to ask you to clean them. When they are done, you can put them away in his closet. And leave me the brushes, in case I should need to do my own shoes.’
    ‘But I’ll do them for you milady, you only need to ask –’
    ‘I would like to do them myself occasionally,’ she said. ‘It will amuse me, help me to feel more like a serving maid.’
    ‘Very good milady.’
    I was not taken in. My mistress certainly knew about the dirty riding clothes or she would not have asked me to clean them. Who took her horse at night? The stable boys? Was Lady Katherine allowing someone else to borrow her husband’s clothes?
    And now I had seen the evidence with my own eyes – someone was taking Blaze out at night, but it was someone Lady Katherine knew all about. Then why was I not to know? She made me feel stupid though I knew I wasn’t. I could not make sense of it, and in the end I ceased to try. My mother’s words came back to me – ‘a good servant must keep quiet and ask no questions’.
    And I had enough problems. Lady Katherine wanted to be Kate whenever a Digger’s meeting was called, and we had to get to the barn early and leave late so I could