Mary stood at the deep white basin in the kitchen squeezing out her apron. She grumbled under her breath, cursing a little louder whenever Poppy’s shrieking laughs traveled into the room.
“Goodness, they’re a handful,” I said, standing in the doorway between the foyer and her. She nodded absently and pushed a strand of wet hair out of her face.
“Aye, and I’m late with Rawleigh Brimble’s luncheon. He’s to take all his meals in his rooms today and I still look half-drowned. There’s just so much to do. Mrs. Haylam needs me to see to at least four rooms for new guests arriving next week. Some of those floors and windows haven’t been washed in years.”
And thank God for that.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Mary, I can do it,” I offered, sweeping over to the table and hefting the tray. “It’s the least I can do after your heroics.”
She watched me over her shoulder, wringing out the clean white linen of her apron with a smirk. “Mm-hm. Are we sure this isn’t because you want to see the handsome young man and soothe his tender heart?”
“Mary, that’s outrageous.” But I was already out the door, and whatever she called after me was lost to the door swinging shut. Faintly, I heard Poppy giggling her way into the kitchen behind me and her hound barking excitedly.
It was no easy feat taking the heavy tray up three flights of steep stairs, but I managed. As I went, I was struck again by the silence of the house. It might have been any family home during a quiet period of the day, with ladies sewing in the parlor and the gentlemen reading or out riding. That peacefulness would soon be broken. I needed Lee to come out of his despair, just for a moment, and distract his uncle while I conducted my search. It would be a miracle if he listened to me after the way our meeting in the grotto ended.
My palms began to sweat as I neared their rooms. It was one thing to flout George Bremerton’s wishes and remain friends with Lee; it was quite another to conspire with his nephew to reveal his dark secrets. But it had to be done. If Bremerton was lying about the messenger, what else was he concealing? Nausea rose in my gut as I considered that he might be seriously involved in the death of Lee’s mother. What if he had orchestrated it? What if he had done it?
And selfishly, I wondered if solving the mystery for Lee would somehow raise me again in his esteem. Yes, you fool, he is bound to fall in love with you after you implicate his last family member in a despicable crime.
I balanced the huge tray on my wrist and gave a few short knocks. My queasiness sharpened when Bremerton opened the door. He glowered down at me, a vein pulsing hideously in his temple. A long pistol was tucked into his trousers, and he hastily reached for a coat on the back of the door to put on and cover up the weapon.
This would require more delicacy than I had anticipated.
“What do you want?”
“I beg your pardon; I’ve brought the afternoon meal as requested,” I said, averting my eyes politely.
“Well, aren’t you all meek and courteous. That’s a change. Where’s the other girl? I asked the housekeeper to only send her.” He moved closer, his chest bumping the tray threateningly.
“Mary is indisposed,” I murmured. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“Fine. Put it down and be quick about it, and then I’m going to have a word with your employer. You’re meddlesome and strange, and I don’t want you anywhere near us.” He gave me the smallest possible crevice to slide through with the tray. Doing so required me to brush physically against him. I felt ill, discovered, and worse, he would be watching me too closely for me to speak to Lee.
But I walked softly through Lee’s rooms. The outer chamber was a sitting room area with a writing desk and a table for two. Through a small door lay his bedroom, with an armoire, screen, and window looking north out into the gardens. Lee sat on the bed, disheveled as before, his cravat hanging loose and rumpled around his neck. He stared out at the grounds, still as a statue.
“There’s food here, sir,” I told him gently. There was nowhere appropriate to place the service, so I diverted to the round table next to the bed and set it there. It felt bizarre to call a boy of my own age “sir,” but George Bremerton was not a meter behind me, watching.
“Oh, Louisa,” Lee said, standing and smoothing down his waistcoat. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s good to see you again. I feel like we didn’t quite get to finish our last conversation.”
“She’ll be going,” Bremerton cut in, his arms folded tight and fussy across his chest.
“Don’t speak to her that way, Uncle. You’re embarrassing me.”
Bremerton tossed up his hands and pushed by me, cornering Lee against the window. Sighing, he blew out a furious breath and jabbed a finger at his nephew’s chest. “I am trying to be sensitive to your grieving, Rawleigh, but there is a limit. I will not cast aside every rule of society—”
I stopped listening. Behind me, at the open door, I felt an icy presence hovering. While they argued, I subtly turned my head, finding one of the Residents darkening the doorway, long, spidery fingers curled around the edge. It tilted its head to the side as if in inquiry, but I knew not what to do. Poppy breezed behind it, carrying a much smaller, more manageable tray, and of course Bartholomew trotted along at her heels. She didn’t notice the giant black shadow creature there, and it did not acknowledge her, either. It might have been one of her cruel adoptive brothers watching me. I couldn’t imagine being comfortable with such information, but Poppy was a strange creature.
Was it looking at me or the men behind me? Was it worried about me or was I under its surveillance, too?
Then, gradually, its blurry form jittering like a shape seen through fog, it lifted one hand and tapped its vacant white eye with a fingertip.
I’m watching you.
I shivered and turned back around, sensing the instant it was gone. It was Lee’s turn to go on the offensive, all but screaming at his uncle, his face bright red, curls mussed and falling over his forehead.
“And you’ve done nothing to arrange a burial for her, have you? You sat here all day like a hen minding its chicks. I can’t even take a walk around the grounds without you having a fit. It’s . . . It’s stifling! Just leave me be!”
George Bremerton retreated with a snarl, but only to the writing desk. He sat down heavily in the chair and glared at nothing in particular. Only a small victory, but Lee crossed to the other side of the bed and reached for the tea, pouring himself a cup and drinking it, still defiant and angry, and heedless of the hot water. He hissed through his teeth and drank more, as if the scalding somehow emboldened him.