CHAPTER 9

Sleep proved elusive as I tossed and turned. I dreamt of Lady Catherine discovering me in the borrowed clothes and having me publicly stripped of them before being taken to York to face the assizes and being sentenced to hang. The last thing I kept seeing before the executioner pulled the handle was Hannah's face.

When morning finally dawned, the grey clouds I saw through the window reflected my mood. You'd think sleeping in a soft bed with the thickest blankets I've ever felt should have been restful. Perhaps I just preferred my own.

Soft footsteps stepped across the floor in the room next to mine, distracting my gaze from the window. It sounded like Hannah was busy getting ready. Throwing the blankets aside, I dressed quickly, straightening all the bits needed in the mirror with shaking hands.

Hannah was waiting in the sitting room when I emerged, clad in a travelling dress and sturdy boots. She raised her face when I entered and smiled.

"A spot of breakfast before we leave. Hope you don't mind that I ordered."

"No, that's fine."

A soft knock on the door. Hannah permitted entry. More strange magic, perhaps? What were the chances the food would be out there just after she said it? Of course, I didn't say anything as the plates were arranged on the table until the door closed again, leaving just me and Hannah in the room.

"I wasn't sure what you would like. I might have ordered a little too much."

"I don't think it will go to waste."

I sat down, my hands feeling clumsy as I picked up a silver knife. The eggs, perfectly poached beside the golden toast. It tasted so much better than the stale kind. A bowl overflowed with berries and oranges. If not eaten, I would take them back for Ma and Millie. As long as that was allowed.

"It's… it's all so delicious."

Hannah smiled. "As we have a short ride ahead of us, I thought it best to eat. I know very little of the town near the property and I wouldn't have disliked to get there and find nowhere to stop for refreshments."

I could still taste the food as Hannah settled beside me on the plush seats of the carriage with a book in hand. My gaze stayed on her until she smiled at me.

"Shall I read to pass the journey this time?"

With a nod, she began to read aloud. Outside, the sun shone between the buildings as our carriage made its way over the cobblestone streets. I saw only a few people, like a newspaper boy, chimney sweep, and a man clearing some of the horse manure from the streets.

The townhouses and public buildings lined either side of the streets. Those houses were soon replaced with smaller ones of weathered brick and timber. The wide, tree-lined streets became narrower, the buildings more crowded together, until at the edge of the town the homes were nothing more than a collection of wood nailed together.

The road beneath the wheels became rough as the smooth stones were replaced with hardened dirt. Even with the fancy cushions, I felt each jolt as the wheels slipped in and out of holes. Hannah didn't appear to notice as she turned another page of the book, reading a story about elves and shoes. She read three more before closing the book.

"We should be there soon. At least I hope so," Hannah said.

"Be nice to stretch the legs," I replied.

"Absolutely." She tilted her head and leaned closer to the window. "Oh look, I see gates ahead."

I looked just as we passed through the iron gates. The road to the house felt smoother than the one we had left. The carriage finally slowed to a stop at the end of a long, winding carriage drive. The manor house rose up before us. I'd always considered Frogmere grand, yet this one made it look small.

"Cheery place," I muttered as I helped Hannah down from the carriage.

"Perhaps it's more welcoming inside," she said. "The gardens over there look lovely, and I can't see any dreadful hedge mazes from here."

A manservant appeared and led the carriage away from the entrance, leaving just Hannah and me in the courtyard. The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we walked towards the stone steps. The wide steps led to a side door, not the grand entrance.

Hannah lifted the heavy brass door knocker and let it fall. A lone raven perched on a statue of a lion on one side of the door, watching us with beady eyes. Just as Hannah raised her hand to knock again, the door creaked open, and the raven took flight.

A stooped man peered out at us. His hand gripped the door tightly to steady himself more than protection.

"May I help you?" he asked, his voice thin and reedy.

"Yes, hello," Hannah said. "I'm Miss Hannah Sheppard and this is Mr Ingham. I was hoping we could speak with the housekeeper?"

The old man blinked at us. "The family is away," he said finally.

"Yes, we know," Hannah replied. "Please, I hoped to speak with the housekeeper and maybe have a look around?"

"Hannah, you must be Lady Catherine's little girl. All grown up." He sighed. "Probably best you came with the family away. They don't much like her. Come in then."

He stepped aside before shuffling down the hallway. Hannah turned and smiled at me as we followed.

The man led us to a back room, shooing us inside. "Wait here," he instructed, before shuffling off again, presumably to fetch the housekeeper.

Hannah wandered the room, trailing her fingers over the surfaces of the furniture. I hovered near the door.

"Hannah."

She turned to me. "It's so strange, John. The furniture is so much like home. I wonder if Mother hasn't tried to recreate this."

"Couldn't that have been your uncle? The one who passed."

Hannah shook her head. "I don't believe so. The furniture in his room is much different in style than this—older. I'm afraid I don't know much about the topic however, those, chairs for example," she pointed to two that sat against the wall, "are exactly the same as the ones Mother has in the library. They do look rather odd in there as well."

Footsteps shuffled our way, and I leaned back enough to see an older woman. I stepped inside the room to wait with Hannah.

"I am Mrs Younger, the housekeeper. How many I assist you?" she asked, her tone clipped and formal. Despite being stooped forward, she stood as tall as me. Her grey hair pulled back in a tight bun, giving her extra height.

Hannah turned and stepped towards Mrs Younger. "Hello, yes. As I was telling the gentleman who let us in, I'm Miss Hannah Sheppard, and this is my associate, Mr Ingham. We were hoping you might be able to answer some questions about the family who lived here."

"Oh, Lady Catherine's daughter then, are you?" The woman sighed. Her hand reached up and gripped the small silver locket that hung from a chain. "Sit down, you weren't nothing more than a babe last time I saw you."

"You worked for my father, then?" Hannah asked as she sat. I wanted to kick myself for not helping, but by then, Mrs Younger was also seated. I grabbed the nearest chair, its feet scrapped on the floor as I did, making me cringe.

"I did. Ever since I was a wee girl, started in the kitchens and worked my way to the top," Mrs Younger said proudly. "Your father was a good man, very well liked."

"And my mother?" Hannah asked.

"Not so well liked. When she first came, she was a different sort of person. The years of trying for a child left her a broken woman. You were quite the surprise. A blessing. Of course, then your father passed so soon after and then the accident."

"Was that Thomas and Rebekah's accident?"

Mrs Younger nodded. "Your poor father, barely cold in the grave, Lady Catherine with you, and then her brother. Too much for many to handle."

"I don't know much about the accident."

"I'm not sure what more I can tell you that isn't public knowledge, miss," she said carefully. "It was a tragic occurrence. I believe he was headed home from being on the continent for a couple of years. Lady Catherine took such care to be involved in ensuring they did make it home."

"It was a carriage accident, correct?"

"Aye it was. The roads around here are just as bad as they ever were. Master here, he likes to keep the drive well taken care of, but outside those gates a horse can catch its hoof and be done for in a heartbeat. The carriage was headed here first, Lady Catherine inviting them to stay for a bit to catch up, before they were to make the final journey. I remember the fuss we were all in ensuring the rooms were made up ready."

"Just rooms for Thomas and Rebekah?"

"Aye, I don't believe they had any companions travelling with them. Enough foreigners in the country as it is. Master has the same fascination for the continents and their strange ways."

"But the accident, Mrs Younger. What do you know?"

The old woman rested her hands on her stomach and sighed. "I don't know much. Just the carriage crashed out near Moorhouse Woods. The road around there is very bad. I was surprised they came that way, but what can you do when you hire from a place like that rather than get a proper coachman? If those drivers had taken the other road a bit further south, it would only have taken a bit longer and they would have arrived safely. Rest their souls."

"And that's all you remember?"

Mrs Younger sighed. "I shouldn't say anything, but you are family. Secrets always run deep in places like this. There were rumours. Nothing substantiated, mind. Just whispers among the staff."

"Go on," Hannah prompted, and I leant forward. The housekeeper's gaze darted between us, her fingers twisting together.

"There was talk," she said, "that the accident might not have been an accident at all."

Hannah sucked in a sharp breath. "But who would have wanted them dead?"

The housekeeper shook her head and braced her hands on the table. "I shouldn't say more. It's not my place." She stood up, smoothing down her skirt with her hand. "I'm sorry, but I really must get back to my duties."

She made to leave, but Hannah caught her arm. "Please," she said. "This is important. Was there anyone who had a grudge against the Nicholson family? Anyone who would benefit from their deaths?"

Mrs Younger hesitated and her shoulders drooped. "There were those who thought Lady Catherine was a bit too eager to step into her brother's place after he passed. She moved out of here well before Master came to take his position. But as I said, Lady Catherine had a lot on her mind at the time."

"Is there anyone else who might know more?"

"Aye, you could ask Susan Hale. She lives on the edge of the town. It was her husband who drove the carriage the night it crashed. I heard she doesn't speak about it. Rather, forget about it and him. Such are the thoughts of people like that. Now I must go. I don't have time to give you a tour of the house, but you're welcome to wander around the grounds. Good day."