Chapter 20

Magistrate Squire Eccleston’s butler informed James and Mr. Ramsay the squire was out walking his fields and obligingly pointed them in the direction the squire had taken. They set off to find him. Once they were past the neat hedges and trees around the manor, it was easy to see the magistrate in the distance due to the flat nature of the former fen lands. He was in the company of two other men, walking along rows of young wheat plants, gesturing as he talked. Getting to the magistrate was not straightforward. It involved jumping newly dug drainage ditches between wheat rows. James silently commended the man for planting another harvest of winter wheat and having ditches dug to drain away excess rain. But such attention to solutions for his farm should not come at Soothcoor’s expense.

One of the men the magistrate talked with saw them coming and pointed out their approach to the magistrate. Eccleston stopped and, arms akimbo, awaited them.

“Sir James,” the magistrate said stiffly.”

“Magistrate,” James returned. “This is Mr. Ramsay, Mr. Montgomery’s solicitor.”

“Mr. Ramsay, this is Squire Eccleston, magistrate for the area.”

Mr. Ramsay acknowledged the introduction.

“Do dead men need solicitors?” the magistrate asked caustically.

“’Tis the solicitor’s obligation ta see that the terms o’ the will are adhered ta,” Mr. Ramsay politely said.

“I was under the understanding Mr. Montgomery didn’t have a will,” the magistrate said.

“Och, he did. Someone led you to think incorrectly,” Mr. Ramsay said pleasantly.

“Ah. When did he draw up the will?”

“Over a year ago, February,” Mr. Ramsay said.

Eccleston frowned and bit his lower lip. “While he was a patient here.”

“Yes.”

“Can a man suffering a mental condition legally draw up a will?” he asked.

“Dr. Worcham can attest to his mental state. Ah will say, in the discussion ah had with Dr. Worcham before we drew up the document, he considered Mr. Montgomery sane unless one of his other personalities were evident. They were not. I dealt solely with Malcolm.”

“And the witnesses?”

There were three. All at Mr. Montgomery’s request: Mrs. Worcham, Miss Hammond, and Mrs. Vance.”

“Mrs. Worcham was a witness?”

Mr. Ramsay nodded. “The executor named in the new will is Alaister Sedgewick, the Earl of Soothcoor.”

“My prisoner?”

“Yes. There is even an unusual paragraph in the will suggesting the earl marry his widow if he is not, himself, wed before Mr. Montgomery dies.”

“Most unusual.”

“The earl had no reason to want to kill Mr. Montgomery. And there are witnesses who will testify he returned to the inn in the same clothes he left in, and, as I told you before, they were not wet.”

“You are thinking this is reason enough to let him go?” the magistrate asked.

“I do,” said Sir James.

The magistrate frowned. “Possible. I say you need more than dry clothes. The first assize will occur at the beginning of next week. He can remain in jail until then, and let the judges decide if he should be freed or not—or you can identify another suspect for the murder with proof before then. Now excuse me gentlemen, I must continue the review you interrupted. I don’t expect to see you again unless you have another suspect with solid evidence.” He turned away from them, signaled the two men who had stood away while he talked to Sir James and Mr. Ramsay to return to his side.

“Well, that did not go as successfully as we might have wished,” Mr. Ramsay said.

“No, but about what I expected after my last conversation with him. I’d like to go to Camden House and discover if Cecilia has been any more successful, however I know it is near the lunch hour for the patients. Let’s return to The New Bell Inn. I can check on how the victims of Baron Stackpoole’s malicious honey illness are recovering,” James suggested.

Mr. Ramsay agreed.

After breakfastthe women returned to their wing. No one had approached them at breakfast about their activities the previous night and Matron Mildred was not to be seen. Nor were there any whispered discussions concerning Miss Dorn or Mr. Turnbull-Minchin. The lack of gossip struck Cecilia as unnatural.

She said as much to Julia as she stopped before the door to her room.

“I agree. Most odd.”

“I’ll tell you what it means,” interjected Mrs. Vance. “It means Mr. Turnbull-Minchin has not been shown the door, that’s what it means. This is to be swept under the carpet like a lazy maid might do to an errant bit of mud.”

Cecilia frowned. “I sincerely hope not.”

“Harrumph,” Mrs. Vance voiced. She turned to Liddy. “Come child, let’s go to the library. I should like to hear you read.”

“Can we go for a walk outside afterward?”

“If the weather stays as nice as it is now, I should think we can,” Mrs. Vance assured her.

“Good. And I know just the book I shall read to you, too!” she said, skipping toward the stairs.”

“Slowly, my dear. This is not the floor for hoydens,” she reminded her.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Julia softly. “We were fairly hoydenish last night.”

Cecilia laughed. “Yes.” She looked about the hall. “There are no staff about to see, come in my room with me and we’ll look over that ledger Liddy hid.” She opened the door to her room.

“Yes!” Julia agreed as she quickly followed her into the room.

Cecilia locked the door behind her, not wanting anyone to barge into the room like Matron had done the other day in Julia’s room, while they studied the book.

Cecilia pulled the ledger out from beneath the bed mattress and laid it on top of the mattress. She opened the cover. “It’s from the beginning of this year.”

“A current ledger? I’m surprised there hasn’t been a hue and cry!”

“Unless it’s a duplicate,” Cecilia offered.

“What do you mean? Why would there be a duplicate?”

“There can be the real books, then there can be the books for show.”

“Books for show?”

“Yes, depending on the purpose for the duplicate books. My husband told me about such practices. His cousin was nearly beggared by a thieving estate steward who kept two sets of books, one showing the actual financial condition of his inheritance and one showing a fairytale of profit. His cousin has worked hard to recover the family fortunes, selling what he could and living frugally. James bought one of his unentailed properties from him because he had good memories of it as a child, and I’m glad he did. I love Summerworth Park, our home in Kent.”

“But back to this book, there must be something suspicious in its pages for him to instruct Liddy to hide it. I don’t think he would have put her in position to do so unless it was important.”

Julia agreed. “He truly delighted in the child.”

They flipped the page.

“It is a supplies and merchandise purchase ledger, the money out ledger,” Cecilia said.

“What’s the most recent entry?” Julia asked.

Cecilia turned several pages until she found a blank page. “Hmm, it appears to stop in March.”

“Turn some more pages. Maybe they just skipped a few pages and then resumed.”

Cecilia turned several more pages. “No-o—Oh, wait. There is writing further in. How odd.” She looked at the entries. These were not like the earlier entries.

“Here is a recording of money coming in.” She read the flowing lines of script. “I see names and then what looks like abbreviations. Can you make them out?” She pushed the book toward Julia.

“A few are repeating, like this one from Enoch Vance that repeats on the first of the month.”

“Mrs. Vance’s nephew?”

“Yes. It’s not much, only three pounds per month. Others don’t seem to have a pattern or are only once. How odd.” She turned a few more pages to see if there was anything else. She found an open letter. Cecilia pulled it out of the book to read.

“It’s from a Mr. Yellin.”

“Mrs. Yellin is in the other ladies wing,” Julia said. “I don’t know her well. I believe she suffers from depression following the birth of her son.”

“Mr. Yellin is complaining about a rate increase of three pounds per month and demanding to know how much longer his wife will be at Camden House and questioning if anything is being done to make her better.”

“A rate increase? I have not heard of a rate increase,” Julia said. “Let’s page back to see if there is any indication of a payment from my husband.” She quickly scanned previous pages. “Ah—Here is one with Stackpoole next to it for five pounds!”

“Is the code next to the entry the same as the code next to the entry from Enoch Vance and Mr. Yellin?” Cecilia asked.

“Let’s see…” Julia compared the pages. “Identical. Why would there be separate entries for rate increase amounts?”

“I’d wager my best earrings that Dr. Worcham did not authorize an increase or know anything about these additional monies coming in.”

“You think Mr. Turnbull-Minchin has been embezzling this way?”

“I do,” Cecilia said. “We need to get this book to Mr. Quetal. He should be able to tell us more about what these entries mean.”

“Do you think he is stable enough to do so?”

“I do. What I think he needs is a dose of confidence. He strikes me as an intelligent young man. Giving him an analytical task like this would boost his morale, return some of his confidence.”

Someone knocked on Cecilia’s door. “Lady Branstoke?”

Cecilia quickly closed the ledger and stuck under the mattress again. “Yes?” she said as she ran to the door.

“Might you know where Lady Stackpoole is? Her son is here to see her.”

Cecilia threw back the lock and opened the door. “She’s here. We were just having a comfortable chat.”

“My son is here? In the great hall?” Julia said, forgetting her conversation with Cecilia and swiftly leaving her room and following the maid who came with the news.

Cecilia didn’t blame her for how she ran off. She slowly followed her down the stairs, thoughts and questions crashing about in her mind. She needed to figure out how to get the book into Mr. Quetal’s hands. She finally decided she needed to find Mrs. Vance and Liddy and headed for the library. They might have ideas. She would start looking for answers by speaking with them.

There weren’t many people in the library that morning. Cecilia surmised the rare sunny day drew them outside. She immediately saw Liddy and Mrs. Vance by the bank of windows at the far end of the library. Liddy had a large book clutched in both hands, but she wasn’t reading. The two were earnestly talking.

“May I join you,” Cecilia asked, sitting down next to Liddy.

“Please do,” Mrs. Vance said. “Liddy has been telling me the most amazing things. Truly amazing, haven’t you, my dear?” Mrs. Vance said.

Liddy shrugged her thin shoulders. “I was just telling her about my home. We lived with my uncle Edgar in a house bigger than Camden House. A house bigger than the castle in this story book,” she said, holding up the book she held. “Bigger than anything!”

“That is big,” Cecilia said. “Houses that big have names. Did your house have a name?”

Liddy nodded eagerly. “Yes. It was called Ellinbourne. Same as Uncle Edgar.”

“Ellinbourne! Oh, gracious,” Cecilia said, suddenly at a loss for words. Ellinbourne was the ancestral home of the Dukes of Ellinbourne. She knew the current duke—not well, but she knew him well enough to enjoy a casual conversation with the man at a ball or party. Now that she knew the closeness of his relationship to Liddy, she knew he would not send his young cousin—for that is what Cecilia now knew Liddy must be—to a sanatorium to hide her away.

“You know the name?” Mrs. Vance asked.

“Yes. Liddy, does your mother still live at Ellinbourne?”

She shook her head. “No, she didn’t get on with Aunt Patience and her daughters when they moved in.” Liddy made a face. “I didn’t either. They were always giggling and talking about clothes. They never talked to me or wanted to play with me.”

“I imagine they were older than you,” Cecilia said to her sympathetically.

Liddy noddy sadly. “So, Mama took me to Bath with her. There was no one to play with there either, and Mama wouldn’t let me out of the house. Then Mama got the idea she would go to London and send me here.”

“That is a sad story,” Cecilia said. “Don’t you think so, Mrs. Vance?”

“I do.”

“We need to find a way to give it a happy ending like the stories in your book,” Cecilia said.

“All right,” Liddy said. “Can we go outside now?”

Cecilia started to laugh at the exuberance of children, then her attention was caught on the size of the book Liddy held. It looked to be the same size as the ledger book under the mattress of her bed. “Let’s take the book upstairs so we might read it later. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“Can we?”

“I don’t see why not, do you Mrs. Vance?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“Hold tight to the book,” Cecilia said, pleased with the plan forming in her head to get the book to Mr. Quetal to examine. She stood up and took Liddy’s hand. “I think we should go now, before Dr. Worcham finds us and reminds us we’re supposed to be cleaning Mr. Montgomery’s room.”

Liddy giggled at that.

“Mrs. Vance, are you coming, too? Julia and I discovered something you might be interested in learning about, and after we put Liddy’s book away safely, we’ll go outside—for that is a much better location for such discussions.”

Mrs. Vance perked up. “I believe I shall,” she said. She joined Cecilia and Liddy threading their way through the library toward the great hall and the sun beckoning them outside.

Once outside, Liddy led them to the right around the building. Cecilia had not been that way, habitually walking around to the left. The landscaping was thicker to the right with more trees and large bushes. Liddy walked steadily on.

“You walk like a young lady with a purpose,” teased Cecilia. “Where are you headed, Liddy?”

“To Mr. Montgomery’s place.”

“Mr. Montgomery’s place? What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to see my treasure box, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll show you,” she said patiently. “You, too, Mrs. Vance. Mr. Montgomery showed me his special place in case something happened to him. Now I’ll show you in case something happens to me.”

Cecilia drew in a sharp breath between her teeth. That this child should even consider something might happen to her, to say it so calmly, chilled her soul.

There were many people walking the grounds on this side of the property and sitting on oiled canvas cloths under the trees, chatting or sketching. “Liddy, would you stop a moment please?” Cecilia said.

Liddy stopped and looked up at Cecilia, confused. “Why?”

“There are many people about. If you are to show us a special place, perhaps that should be done when there are less people about. You don’t want them to discover the special place do you?”

“I guess not, but I wanted you to see…”

“And we will,” Cecilia promised.

“Then we might as well go in through Mr. Montgomery’s room,” Liddy said.

“What do you mean?”

“That terrace door leads into Mr. Montgomery’s room,” she explained.

“I heard there was a door here, but I thought it locked. You mean it is accessible?” Cecilia asked.

She nodded. “We went in and out that way all the time.”

“Perhaps that is also best left to fewer people about,” Cecilia said, exchanging a surprised look with Mr. Vance.

“And you know, Liddy, after our adventures last night, if we did more adventuring today without Lady Stackpoole, she would be sad,” Mrs. Vance said.

The child sighed, shrugging her expressive shoulders again. “I guess so,” she said resignedly.

“Let’s see if we can find her. She probably went left around the building. There is a bench she likes to sit on over there. Her son is here, you know.”

“Fine,” Liddy said, turning about, tromping sullenly to the other side of the building.

They walked to Julia’s favored seating place but did not see her. They decided to go back inside and see if Lady Stackpoole was there.

In the great hall, Cecilia stopped to ask the majordomo if he had seen Lady Stackpoole.

“She’s in the library, my lady,” that worthy said. “And she said to tell you if I saw you that she would await you there.”

“Well, that was easy enough,” Mrs. Vance said.

Cecilia laughed. “We haven’t found her yet!”

“If that is where she said she would be, that is where she will be,” Mrs. Vance responded.

As they approached the library, its door opened. To their surprise it was Mr. Turnbull-Minchin.

“Ladies,” he said, nodding to them as he passed them by. And he looked quite pleased with himself, the corner of his lips quirking up in a small smile. Mrs. Vance looked ready to take him to task. Cecilia laid her hand on Mrs. Vance’s arm, encouraging restraint. She looked across the room. Julia appeared as equally upset as Mrs. Vance. Cecilia led Mrs. Vance and Liddy over to her.

“What is he doing here?” she hissed when they came up to Julia.

“He has not been fired,” Julia said. “He just escorted a woman and her husband in to see Dr. Worcham in the parlor. And when he came back out, he looked right at me and laughed.”

“Laughed at you? Why did he laugh at you?”

“Probably because of the shocked expression on my face.”

Cecilia shook her head. “Let’s go to Mr. Montgomery’s chamber to straighten it, as Dr. Worcham requested last night.”

“I’m sure there won’t be anything there to find if Mr. Turnbull-Minchin has been using the room.”

“Perhaps not…He may not have known all the proper places to look. I’m sure our Liddy does.”

Liddy nodded then scrunched her face up and giggled. “I’ll bet he didn’t find the boxes.”

“Boxes?”

“Mr. Montgomery made a special place for my box, too,” Liddy said proudly. “Not my treasure box, my second-best box.”

“Your second-best box?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was quite kind of him,” Mrs. Vance said, exchanging speaking looks with Cecilia and Julia over Liddy’s head.

“Mr. Montgomery was very smart,” she said.

“I just wish he had been smart enough not to get himself killed,” Mrs. Vance muttered.

Cecilia frowned at her. She shrugged back.

They passed Mr. Quetal entering as they left the library. “Mr. Quetal, if anyone comes looking for us, we have gone to do the task Dr. Worcham gave us last night,” Cecilia told him.

“What task? Where?”

“Clean Mr. Montgomery’s room.”

They went out the library, turned left, then through the door near the end of the hall that led to the treatment rooms, the estate room, and Mr. Montgomery’s room, Liddy leading the way. The gas lamps high on the walls had been turned up for daytime, yet there remained a gloomy feeling to the hall without windows, and just doors on either side, framed in dark wood. No paintings or sketches or anything hung on the walls.

Liddy reached the door to Mr. Montgomery’s room and impatiently awaited them, rocking from foot to foot. She grinned as she threw open the door, her eyes dancing.

Immediately Cecilia could understand why.

Light flooded the room from a wall of nearly floor to ceiling windows. The glass was similar to the glass in the dining hall, watery diamond panes with occasional colored diamonds of glass. This clear glass appeared so watery it was difficult to see through. Near the ceiling were colorful bible stories.

At first, Cecilia did not see the door Liddy spoke of, then she discerned it from the windows on either side. The room was unlike any other Cecilia had seen at Camden House. A large wardrobe took up much of one wall and it, like the walls and all the interior woodwork, had been painted a stark white. In contrast, the cushions, the rug, the drapes that were tied back, and the bed linens, were all brightly colored. The room appeared double the size of the room Cecilia slept in. There was a desk, a card table, and a small couch.

Unfortunately, it had been, as Cecilia feared, ransacked. Bookshelves and drawers empty, the wardrobe open, one door sagging on a broken hinge, and everything knee deep on the floor.

“What!” protested Mr. Vance. She walked around tossed pillows and books. “This is outrageous!”

“That is a mild statement to how I feel,” said Julia, her hands on her hips as she looked around the room. Liddy, standing beside her, copied her stance and manner.

“Liddy, I know it is a mess in here, but is your hiding place safe?” Cecilia asked.

“I think so,” she said. “But we have to move all this stuff out of the way over here first.” She waved her hands toward the piles of books, statues, and cushions on the floor before the bookcase.

Cecilia studied the empty bookshelf behind the piles. She picked up a cushion and returned it to the couch. “Then let’s get to it,” she said, picking up a copy of Aristotle and placing it on the bookcase.

They made quick work of getting all the books put back on the shelves, though not with attention to neatness or any particular order. Julia was picking up the shards of a broken vase when there was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me,” said Mr. Quetal, opening the door enough to poke his head in. “Dr. Worcham said I should find you here. I’m to tell you it is time for lunch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Quetal. I’m afraid we all lost track of time. There is so much to do here.” Cecilia said.

“This is the task Dr. Worcham gave you, to straighten Mr. Montgomery’s room?”

“Yes. Someone has been in here in a terrible temper and thrown everything around.”

“Do you think they were looking for something?” he asked

Cecilia shrugged, her eyes wide. “Possibly. Who’s to say?—Oh! I have a project for you,” she told him, her eyes now dancing with excitement. “We can discuss it at dinner tonight, is that amenable to you?”

He looked confused. “I—I suppose so.”

“Excellent,” she said. “We’ll talk later then.” She turned away from him, leaving him noticeably befuddled.

“Come, ladies. We can return after lunch. I think we have done well. Shouldn’t take much more time, I’m thinking,” she said for his benefit. It was well they hadn’t tried to find Mr. Montgomery’s hiding places yet. They would have to devise a plan to make sure they were not disturbed—or at least have adequate warning if someone approached.

After lunch, Cecilia suggested they go outside for some fresh air before returning to Mr. Montgomery’s room. “Let’s go back toward Mr. Montgomery’s room from the outside. “I’d like to see the room and the door from the outside.”

They went around right to that side of the building. This time, not as many patient residents were in the area, as it was shadier, and therefore colder in the afternoon. The grass was not scythed as well in this area, either, and the rushes along the canal grew higher. Cecilia walked toward the canal that ran along the backside of Camden House. A small thicket of trees and bracken grew at the end of the island where the canals met. It looked like it had, at one time, been as well tended as the rest of the grounds.

“This is where Ratman and Archie got in an argument,” Liddy said. “He told me to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go. I was so scared!” she said, looking down at the ground around them. She looked up. “Then I heard Mr. Turnbull-Minchin yelling, and Dr. Worcham shouting for Mr. Montgomery. I knew the doctor would be mad if he caught me out here; it was past curfew. Archie told me to go through Mr. Montgomery’s door.”

Together, they walked toward the door to Mr. Montgomery’s room. “I hid here, I couldn’t see much. But I heard them.”

“Heard who?” Cecilia asked casually.

“Archie, Mr. Turnbull-Minchin, Dr. Worcham, and that other man Mr. Montgomery didn’t like, Ratman.”

“Mr. Ratcliffe,” Cecilia said.

“Yes, him. They were all yelling at each other. Dr. Worcham, trying to get them to calm down. Archie, shouting at Mr. Turnbull-Minchin and that Ratman, and them yelling at him and each other. I ran inside, because it reminded me of Mommy and Daddy yelling at each other all the time. It was awful!”

“I’m so sorry,” Cecilia said, putting her arm around Liddy’s shoulders.

“Why did they always have to yell at each other?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“Mr. Montgomery said he didn’t either. He never yelled. Only Archie did. It was Archie who was fighting.”

“How could you tell?” Cecilia asked.

“His voice was different.”

“Oh.” Cecilia didn’t know what to make of that statement about one of Mr. Montgomery’s ‘others.’

They walked up to the door. Cecilia was surprised to notice she could not see into the room from the outside the way she’d been able to see out from the inside with the way the glass diamond panes had been cut and shaped. Perhaps if there were light emitting from the room it would be different., With light only on the outside, the inside was hard to discern.

Cecilia opened the door. “No!” Liddy protested, eyes wide.

“No, what, Liddy?”

“It should have been locked. I locked it so they couldn’t get me.”

“Perhaps whoever searched Mr. Montgomery’s room left by way of this outside door.”

“Oh-h-h. Yes, they could do that, I guess.”

“How about you go in this way now so you can lock it and Julia, Mrs. Vance, and I can come through the house.”

She frowned longer, her face a reflection of changing thoughts and feeling tumbling through her mind.

“What is it, Liddy?”

“I want to see if the key is still here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The key Mr. Montgomery always hid outside.”

Cecilia looked around. At the moment, there were no other residents in the vicinity save Julia and Mrs. Vance, and it looked like they were discouraging others from coming their way.

“All right, quick, quick, check it.”

Liddy went to where the windows ended and picked up something off the ground, then she put it back down and came back to Cecilia all smiles.

“You were right. They must have come out the door. The key is still in its hiding place.”

“You go in this way and lock the door after you.”

“And I’ll hide like I did that night, and you can see if you can find me!” she said.

“You hid in Mr. Montgomery’s room the night he died?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Liddy, why haven’t you told anyone about what happened that night?”

She squirmed a bit, shrugging her shoulders, her face again going through different expressions of guilt, sadness and confusion. Cecilia patiently waited. “I was afraid,” she finally said, her voice cracking and her eyes welling with tears. “And Dr. Worcham was there.”

Cecilia sighed and hugged her again. “You probably did right. I understand. All right, you wait in here for us, and we’ll come around through the house.”

She nodded and sniffed.

Cecilia handed her a handkerchief.

Liddy wiped her eyes. “I don’t want anyone to see me crying again.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be back soon.”

Cecilia told Julia and Mrs. Vance what she had learned from Liddy.

“Poor child,” Mrs. Vance said.

“But you are gaining her trust, Cecilia, and she is telling you. This is good,” Julia said.

“Probably because I wasn’t here when these events happened. Did you have any problems dissuading others from coming over this way?” Cecilia asked as they walked back to the house.

Julia laughed. “No. We just stood in the middle of the path talking, and rather than pushing past us, the few that came this way took another path.”

“We do have polite people here at Camden House,” Mrs. Vance said.

Cecilia and Julia laughed.

They waved to Mr. Quetal and Mr. Hobart as they entered the house and continued on talking easily together. Cecilia didn’t feel particularly easy, and she doubted Julia or Mrs. Vance did either. Through unspoken agreement, they maintained a worry-free demeanor for the benefit of others.

In Mr. Montgomery’s room, there was no sign of Liddy.

“Do you think Liddy went upstairs,” asked Mrs. Vance. “Sometimes children forget what they are supposed to be doing.”

Cecilia shook her head. “No. I think she is doing exactly what she said she did the night Mr. Montgomery died. She is hiding.”

“In here?” Mrs. Vance said.

Cecilia smiled. “Yes, in here. No one found her that night. I think she wants to see if we can find her.”

They’d been all over the room as they’d picked up Mr. Montgomery’s belongings strewn everywhere. “We are obviously missing something. It has to be a space big enough for someone her size to hide. That leaves the wardrobe, walls, or floor. Remember, this used to be a monastery.”

“You’re thinking there would be a priest’s hole?” Julia asked.

“No, not a priest hole. I am thinking it has to be something older, like a closet of some kind where a religious house would store or hide their valuable religious goods like gold goblets and crosses, their physical wealth.”

“And an inside wall,” offered Julia.

“Yes. This fireplace wall is shared with the room we found Mrs. Worcham sewing, correct?”

“Yes, it has beautiful windows like these, without a door leading outside,” said Mrs. Vance.

“And a fireplace in the same position,” said Julia.

“What about the opposite wall. What is that wall shared with?”

Julia narrowed her eyes as she thought. “I believe that is one of the staff gathering rooms,” she said slowly.

Mrs. Vance nodded. “Their dining hall, I think.”

Julia agreed.

“And this wall behind us is shared with the hallway and a trunk room,” Cecilia said, moving to the far corner of the room and its tall bookcase. She pushed against the bookcase. It was solidly installed. She started to examine the cornice work, wrapping against the wood in places for hollow sounds. Then they all heard a quiet, muffled giggle. Cecilia smiled and looked at Julia and Mrs. Vance.

“Maybe I’m wrong to think anything could be beyond this wall,” she said loudly. “Maybe she fooled us and hid in one of the treatment rooms until we were in here and she has run up stairs to share her giggles with others.”

“I wouldn’t put it past the clever child,” Julia said. “Let’s go see if we can find her upstairs.”

They all walked loudly to the door, opened it, then sharply closed it, staying by the door.

They heard another giggle, then slowly the bookcase swung away from the wall and Liddy came out.

“Found you!” declared Cecilia, coming over to Liddy and giving her a hug.

“You cheated,” Liddy accused.

“No, we didn’t. You giggled, and we heard you. Let me see this little space,” Cecilia said, going around Liddy to peer into a long, narrow space. There were narrow shelves along one wall and, at the end, Cecilia thought there was another doorway. This one would lead to the estate room. “So, this is where you hid your treasure box?”

“Someone with heavy boots is coming down the hall!” Julia warned.

Cecilia quickly shut the passage door and pushed Liddy before her further into the room away from the bookcase door.

It was the majordomo. “Lady Branstoke, your husband is here.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right up,” she said. She looked at the others in the room. “Do you know if we are supposed to put fresh bed linens on the bed?”

Julia and Mrs. Vance shook their heads.

“I’ll ask when I’m in the great hall,” she said, following the suspicious majordomo out of the room.