must people think? Her reputation will be ruined if this gets out.”
She clutched at Lucy’s hand, looking up at her. “Could you go see Mrs. Wiggins? See for yourself if my daughter is there?” Her voice began to sound more slurred. “I do not know you, but Jacob seems to have trusted you. I know, too, that Adam Hargrave was his friend, and I trust him.”
She looked beseechingly at Lucy. “Please. Help me find my daughter. Bring her back to me. Lord knows she was a burden, but she’s all I have now that Jacob is dead.” Her voice breaking on the last word, she turned back toward the wall.
Lucy waited. In less than fifteen seconds, she heard Mrs. Whitby begin to snore, the sleeping draught having clearly done its duty.
After pulling the shutters closed, Lucy tiptoed out of the room. Evie appeared then, holding the tea.
“She is already asleep,” Lucy whispered. “She took several swallows of the draught already. I think you should watch over her, to make sure she is all right.”
“Whatever am I supposed to do?” Evie wailed. “I don’t know how to take care of her! She’s not in her right mind now, is she?”
“Your mistress has suffered a great loss. Her daughter’s disappearance has only worsened her pain and stress,” Lucy said. She continued in the same low voice, even though she was fairly certain that no one was around to hear her. “What do you think happened to Miss Julia Whitby? Did she run off with someone?”
The maid rolled her eyes and for the first time ventured a cocky grin. “Her? Not bloody likely. Not too comely and had a tart tongue when she wanted. I heard her talking to herself sometimes.” Lucy noticed a doubtful look on her face. “And yet—” she started to say, before recalling herself. ’Twas unseemly to gossip about her employers in such a fashion, particularly with a stranger.
Although she wanted to press the girl further, Lucy instead sought to pretend she hadn’t been paying much attention, hoping to reassure the girl that she’d committed no indiscretion. “Such a big house,” Lucy commented, trying to ease the girl back into a pleasant conversation. “Are these all bedchambers?”
Evie relaxed, and her face lost its stricken look. “Yes, that one is the master’s other chamber, and that one we use for guests. I think it used to be Jacob’s, when he lived here. That one there is Miss Julia’s.” She pointed to a door at the very end of the hallway. “This, of course, is the privy.”
“Oh!” Lucy said. Lowering her voice again, she said, “Would you mind? I’ve been holding my stream for some time. No need to wait. I can show myself out.” When the servant hesitated, Lucy added in a firmer tone, “You must go in with Mrs. Whitby now.”
“Yes, miss,” Evie said. “I will.” She turned and scurried back into the bedchamber they had just left, shutting the door behind her. Lucy found herself alone in the corridor, exactly as she had hoped.
7
After Lucy quickly used the privy, she opened the door a crack and peered down the corridor. No one seemed to be about, and Mrs. Whitby’s bedchamber door was still shut. Saying a quick prayer, Lucy stole over to Miss Julia’s door. After pausing to listen for any sounds, she stole inside.
The room was cold and dark without a fire in the grate. Lucy could see a slight light streaming through the shutters. Fortunately the sun had not descended into evening. Carefully she opened up one of the shutters so she could see the room more clearly. Besides the bed, there was a small table with a candle and a Bible, a large chest, another table with another mirror draped in black wool, a few shelves along the wall, and a small chair. Swiftly, she started at Julia’s lace-covered dressing table, opening her small jewelry boxes fearfully. Her heart was pounding. If she were caught in here she’d be thrown in jail for certain. There could be no reason for her to be in Julia Whitby’s private chambers.
She clutched at Lucy’s hand, looking up at her. “Could you go see Mrs. Wiggins? See for yourself if my daughter is there?” Her voice began to sound more slurred. “I do not know you, but Jacob seems to have trusted you. I know, too, that Adam Hargrave was his friend, and I trust him.”
She looked beseechingly at Lucy. “Please. Help me find my daughter. Bring her back to me. Lord knows she was a burden, but she’s all I have now that Jacob is dead.” Her voice breaking on the last word, she turned back toward the wall.
Lucy waited. In less than fifteen seconds, she heard Mrs. Whitby begin to snore, the sleeping draught having clearly done its duty.
After pulling the shutters closed, Lucy tiptoed out of the room. Evie appeared then, holding the tea.
“She is already asleep,” Lucy whispered. “She took several swallows of the draught already. I think you should watch over her, to make sure she is all right.”
“Whatever am I supposed to do?” Evie wailed. “I don’t know how to take care of her! She’s not in her right mind now, is she?”
“Your mistress has suffered a great loss. Her daughter’s disappearance has only worsened her pain and stress,” Lucy said. She continued in the same low voice, even though she was fairly certain that no one was around to hear her. “What do you think happened to Miss Julia Whitby? Did she run off with someone?”
The maid rolled her eyes and for the first time ventured a cocky grin. “Her? Not bloody likely. Not too comely and had a tart tongue when she wanted. I heard her talking to herself sometimes.” Lucy noticed a doubtful look on her face. “And yet—” she started to say, before recalling herself. ’Twas unseemly to gossip about her employers in such a fashion, particularly with a stranger.
Although she wanted to press the girl further, Lucy instead sought to pretend she hadn’t been paying much attention, hoping to reassure the girl that she’d committed no indiscretion. “Such a big house,” Lucy commented, trying to ease the girl back into a pleasant conversation. “Are these all bedchambers?”
Evie relaxed, and her face lost its stricken look. “Yes, that one is the master’s other chamber, and that one we use for guests. I think it used to be Jacob’s, when he lived here. That one there is Miss Julia’s.” She pointed to a door at the very end of the hallway. “This, of course, is the privy.”
“Oh!” Lucy said. Lowering her voice again, she said, “Would you mind? I’ve been holding my stream for some time. No need to wait. I can show myself out.” When the servant hesitated, Lucy added in a firmer tone, “You must go in with Mrs. Whitby now.”
“Yes, miss,” Evie said. “I will.” She turned and scurried back into the bedchamber they had just left, shutting the door behind her. Lucy found herself alone in the corridor, exactly as she had hoped.
7
After Lucy quickly used the privy, she opened the door a crack and peered down the corridor. No one seemed to be about, and Mrs. Whitby’s bedchamber door was still shut. Saying a quick prayer, Lucy stole over to Miss Julia’s door. After pausing to listen for any sounds, she stole inside.
The room was cold and dark without a fire in the grate. Lucy could see a slight light streaming through the shutters. Fortunately the sun had not descended into evening. Carefully she opened up one of the shutters so she could see the room more clearly. Besides the bed, there was a small table with a candle and a Bible, a large chest, another table with another mirror draped in black wool, a few shelves along the wall, and a small chair. Swiftly, she started at Julia’s lace-covered dressing table, opening her small jewelry boxes fearfully. Her heart was pounding. If she were caught in here she’d be thrown in jail for certain. There could be no reason for her to be in Julia Whitby’s private chambers.
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