Escaping Notice (15 page)

“Her nephew? The earl?”

“No, the younger one. That is, I’m sure she means to search for
both, but most especially for the younger one. I believe his given
name is Lionel.” Gazing into Hugh’s eyes, she was shocked to see a
swift, dark shadow pass through them, leaving his face hard and
almost expressionless.

“She told you that? That she intends to hire an inquiry
agent?”

“Yes. And I was thinking, well, since
you’re
an inquiry
agent, perhaps you could help her?”

“I see.” He hummed tunelessly and glanced over her head as if
considering it. “Tell her that you ran into me and discovered that
the earl’s lawyer has already hired an inquiry agent for another
matter.”

“But what if she wishes to speak to him?”

“Inform her that he will call on her tomorrow afternoon. I’ll
send word and arrange for an agent — another agent — to come
here.”

“Who?”

“Tell her that Mr. Gaunt of Second Sons will speak to her. That
ought to satisfy her.”

“Is he a … colleague?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He studied her face. “He
is
already looking into this affair.”

“Then he will help Miss Leigh?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

After searching his face, Helen agreed to his suggestion,
feeling in some mysterious way shut out, as if he did not trust
her. Well, that suited her admirably. In a day or two, she would be
gone. Then the large, enigmatic Hugh and his dalliances with the
maids would be forgotten no more than an hour later. If that.

“
She is generally to be near the person of her lady ….”
—
The Complete Servant

Early the following afternoon, Helen mentioned Mr. Gaunt as she
carefully untangled the delicate chain of an onyx pendant she had
found bunched up in Miss Leigh’s handkerchief drawer.

“If you think he will serve our purposes, then I suppose I must
see him. Arrange an interview, if you please. And while you are
about it,” Miss Leigh said, “cut some more flowers. These have
withered already and look so dowdy.”

She waved the vase to Helen, who curtseyed and fled. Mr. Symes
was not in the hallway and there was no sign of Hugh. She would
have to wait until the inquiry agent came to speak to Hugh
again.

In the meantime, she had flowers to cut. She was heading down
the hallway when she caught sight of Mr. Caswell. He was walking
ahead of her, passing through the library and then out of the
French doors into the garden. She followed and noticed a man she
assumed to be Mr. Gaunt meeting Hugh near a large oak at the edge
of the knot garden. They were almost hidden behind the large trunk
and obviously did not wish to be disturbed.

Keeping an eye on the pair, Helen hurriedly cut an armful of
pink and blue hyacinths, their perfume filling the breeze warmed by
the sunshine streaming over her shoulders. When the two men
separated, she ran after Mr. Gaunt, but his long legs carried him
upstairs ahead of her. He entered the small sitting room where Miss
Leigh waited.

Helen hesitated and then boldly entered, as well. A large, white
vase, already full of water, stood near the door, and she thrust
the flowers into it before carrying it to the table next to Miss
Leigh’s chair. Neither Mr. Gaunt nor Miss Leigh noticed her,
however. They were too intent on their discussion.

At least no one questioned her about how Mr. Gaunt had come to
be nearby, or how Helen had managed to arrange for him to visit
Ormsby so quickly. Hugh’s secret remained still safe.

“My nephew, Lionel Castle, is missing!” Miss Leigh announced
dramatically, after questioning Mr. Gaunt severely about his
background.

Her loud voice almost made Helen knock the vase over. She held
it for a moment and bowed her head, continuing to arrange the
flowers on the table at Miss Leigh’s elbow. When she could no
longer find anything more to do with them, she edged discreetly
into the embrasure of the window behind Miss Leigh, and picked up a
bit of mending she’d left there earlier.

“When did you last see him?” Mr. Gaunt asked.

“Nearly a week ago; Monday, the nineteenth of April.” She
twisted her thin hands in her lap, ignoring Mr. Gaunt and the fact
that she had neglected to invite him to sit.

Or perhaps it was on purpose. Mr. Gaunt was a member of the
working classes and as such, could not expect the courtesy of a
seat or cup of tea unless he wished to visit the kitchen. Helen
twisted in her seat, trying not to think about what this meant as
far as her own status and that of Mr. Caswell were concerned.

Miss Leigh touched one pale check. “Lionel kissed me on the
cheek and told me he was going to visit the vicar. That would be
Mr. Davies. However, he never arrived.”

“What makes you believe he never arrived?”

She picked up a letter from the table next to her and waved it.
“This! This note came from Mr. Davies. It is addressed to my
nephew. Why would he write to Lionel if Lionel were visiting him?
No. It can only mean one thing. He never arrived. He is
missing.”

“Have you any idea where he might have gone?” The speculative
gleam in Mr. Gaunt’s dark eyes made Helen uncomfortable. He looked
like a man who knew something unpleasant and did not want to
divulge it.

“London, perhaps. You know how young men are. Nonetheless, he
must be found. He must be sent back to college.” She smiled, pride
glowing in her face. “He is studying to join the clergy. He will
make a fine clergyman. He is so kind, you see, so thoughtful. Quite
unlike his older brother.”

“Yes, well, I will certainly made inquiries about his
movements.” He stared thoughtfully at the paper clenched in Miss
Leigh’s hand before he said, “Is that all?”

“All?” Miss Leigh’s voice rose.

“Is anyone else missing?”

“Anyone else?”

He hesitated before answering. “Someone who may have accompanied
your nephew. A valet? Manservant of some sort? Any other member of
the household?” Something in his questions made Helen cold, as if
an icy draught were seeping through the window behind her despite
the sparkling sunshine.

“No, of course not. Whatever are you thinking?”

“What of your other nephew? Perhaps I should start by speaking
to him?” Mr. Gaunt continued relentlessly. “Mr. Castle might have
told him something he did not mention to you.”

“The earl is not here,” she replied, tight-lipped.

“Oh?”

“He took his boat out. Sailing.” She said the last word as if it
were a curse.

“Sailing. I see. When I arrived here, I heard about some debris
found on the beach. A boat. Have you heard anything about
that?”

“A boat? I do not listen to gossip, young man. And the earl is
an excellent sailor. He can take care of himself, I’m sure. I am
not worried about
him
. It is Lionel you are to find. Is that
understood?” She twisted her hands together and frowned at him as
if fearing he did not comprehend the urgency of the situation.
“Lionel is young. Young men can be careless with no thought for
tomorrow. He must be found.”

“Yes. I understand.” He bowed. “With your leave, perhaps I
should commence my inquiries?”

“Yes, yes.” She waved him away. “Get on with it. You cannot
stand there all day staring like a crow atop a fence post.”

When the agent left, Helen hurried to Miss Leigh’s side. “Is
there anything I can get for you?”

Miss Leigh’s graying eyebrows bristled as she frowned. “Tea. A
pot of tea. I must think.”

“Yes, Miss.” Helen hesitated, before saying very softly, “I hope
your nephew is quite well.”

“Of course he is,” Miss Leigh replied sharply, jumping out of
her seat to pace to the fireplace and back to her chair. “He must
be. I don’t know what I will do if he’s not. He
must
be all
right.”

Helen waited, but Miss Leigh did not elaborate. She merely
continued pacing, her thin lips moving soundlessly as if trying to
reassure herself.

Finally, Helen moved towards the door. “I’m sure he is. I’ll
fetch your tea. I’m sure your nephew will return soon.”

“
He
is expected to be a competent judge of the nature and qualities of
provisions ….” —
The Complete Servant

While it sounded easy enough to discover who harbored a secret
desire to see the earl dead, Hugh found that a house steward had
more to do than discover innocuous ways to question the staff. Mr.
Symes seemed determined to make sure neither Hugh nor Ned Brown was
idle. He’d given Ned the task of trimming all the lamps used below
stairs and cleaning all the servants’ boots and shoes. Ned had not
been as pleased as Hugh was to see him thus occupied.

As for Hugh, although he managed to sneak out of the house to
speak to Mr. Gaunt, when he returned, he spent most of his time
engaged in discussions with the housekeeper on the best markets to
use and going over the nature and quality of the household
provisions. Since Hugh could honestly say he didn’t have the
slightest interest in which markets the servants chose to
patronize, this tried his patience to the breaking point.

“What are those?” he asked, his voice thick with disgust as Mrs.
Adams, the housekeeper, handed him a sheaf of papers.

“They are the receipts, Mr. Caswell, for you to enter in the
books. Several of them are due.” She spoke the last words with so
much satisfaction that she actually smacked her lips.

Suppressing the urge to curse, he nodded, not trusting his
control over his vocal chords.

“When will you make your recommendation about the market cart,
Mr. Caswell?”

“Market cart?”

She sniffed and stared at him down the considerable length of
her nose. “The market cart broke the axle, wheel and bed two weeks
ago, carrying provisions for his lordship’s ball. It must either be
mended or replaced.”

“Then do it,” he replied in a deliberate voice. When she eyed
him, a touch of contempt sparkled in her dark eyes. “Is it
repairable?” he asked.

“That is for you to judge, Mr. Caswell. Is there anything
else?”

He placed the pile of receipts on his desk, thinking about long,
tedious hours entering numbers in the leather-bound account book.
“Yes, there is. I would like to speak to the earl. When is he
expected to return?”

“The earl does not make his plans a matter for the
housekeeper.”

“Then you don’t know where he is?”

“He is aboard his boat.” Her tone indicated that she did not
approve of gossip.

Hugh continued, “How long is he usually gone? I want to go over
the accounts with him to know precisely where we stand. That is the
only way I can determine which course to take — whether to acquire
a new cart or mend the old one.”

This logic seemed to appeal to Mrs. Adams’ practical nature. She
smiled slightly and nodded, her brown eyes warming a fraction. “He
is normally gone only a few days. We’ve been quite worried about
him for he’s as regular as the sun.”

“Oh, he is, is he? Sounds boring, if you ask me.”

“There is nothing wrong with being regular. And you’d best take
a leaf from his lordship’s book if you’re to remain a house steward
at Ormsby.”

Hugh held up a hand and laughed. “No criticism intended, Mrs.
Adams. I can certainly appreciate a man with good, tidy habits. You
must forgive me, but I’ve yet to find my way. It’s easy to take the
wrong step on an unknown path.” When she nodded, he glanced down at
the papers and nudged them with a careless finger. “You are
worried, then, about the earl?”

“Yes,” she admitted, although she sounded reluctant. “He’s been
gone an awful long time. And there’s been a visitor, a black-coated
man, to see Miss Leigh. His lordship’s younger brother is missing,
too, and so soon after the ball.” To Hugh’s discomfort, her lips
trembled. She bit them, sniffing loudly. “We’re afraid. We’re all
afraid below stairs. You see, we thought he was to be married to
Miss Peyton. But they say she ran off with that nasty Lord Greeley
the night of the ball, and the earl hasn’t been seen since.” She
stared at Hugh, her brown eyes dark with worry. “What if that Lord
Greeley did something to him?”

“To him? To the earl?”

“Yes! He has a terrible reputation. What if they fought a duel
over Miss Peyton? What would happen if the earl
lost
? What
then?”

Startled silence stretched between them until Hugh recovered
enough to smile. “Nonsense. If they had fought a duel and the earl
lost, there would have been a doctor in attendance. The household
would have known immediately.”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know then,” Mrs. Adams said stiffly, as
if regretting her outburst.

“Perfectly understandable. It is a puzzle to us all. I can only
hope the earl comes walking through the front door soon so I, at
least, may settle these accounts.”
On some other poor soul,
he thought.

“
Hers will be the care of her lady’s wardrobe ….” —
The
Complete Servant

Helen escaped from Miss Leigh after tucking her into bed that
night. She could not avoid it any longer. She had to set about her
mission of finding the necklace. Somehow she managed to find her
way to the ballroom without being caught, but before she could
begin a search, she heard someone coming. Thick draperies hid the
windows. She ran to the nearest curtain and slipped behind it.

The footsteps neared, hesitated, and then faded as someone
walked away.

“Ah-choo! Ah-choo!” Helen sneezed twice, then three more times
as she stepped away from the heavy curtains, brushing her skirts
and glancing around. Silver light washed over the bare floor in
long streaks.

She felt enveloped in a miasma of old cigar smoke and stale
perfume. The smell brought back memories of the ball, feelings of
rushed discomfort after arriving late and of being out of step with
the rest of the whirling, laughing guests.