CHAPTER SIX

Eliza joins Lucas and me for a lunch of cheese pudding. Eliza informs me that the muffins will have to wait until dinner but promises me they will be worth it.

"I'm sure they will be. What do you say, Lucas? Muffins for dessert?"

Lucas shrugs and tinkers with his camera. With his elder sister present, he has shut down once again.

If she is his older sister. I hate holding that suspicion, but both he and Eliza have referred to Veronica as though she is Lucas's mother, but not Eliza's or Oliver's. Then again, Eliza has also referred to Veronica as her own mother. And neither of them seem to care much for her.

Layers upon layers upon layers. Deceit upon deceit upon deceit.

"Make sure Mother doesn't see you eat them," Eliza says. "She'll give you trouble about your digestion."

She smiles tauntingly at Lucas, and I see the relationship between her and Oliver in that sneering glance. Lucas surprises me by meeting Eliza's eyes and saying, "I'll have one if she wants me to or not."

Eliza seems equally surprised. She even nods approvingly and says, "Well, if you're that insistent, I suppose I must make some. I wouldn't want to disappoint a big, strong man like you."

Her words taunt, but her tone, again, is approving. Lucas offers the ghost of a smile and turns to me. "I'm still working on that photo collage. If it's all right with you, I'll do that for the afternoon so I can concentrate. You're welcome anywhere on the grounds if you'd care to do some more exploring."

"Why thank you, Lord Carlton," Eliza teases.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to his camera. She laughs and says, "But he's right. Feel free to go anywhere. The estate is yours."

I wonder for a moment why the other servants don't have this same freedom. Or perhaps they do, and they simply use it to stay away from the family as much as possible.

In any case, that is the least of my questions. My hips and knees ache, and my ankles are sore from the morning's excursions, but I think I will take the afternoon to explore. My mind is restless, and if I don't work that restlessness out now, I'll spend the evening wandering the house again. I'd just as soon not run into any more paintings of my sister.

Superstition aside, I would like to rest tonight, so after lunch, I bid farewell to the two Carlton children and set off to explore the grounds. I've seen much of the east garden, the arboretum, and the north woods, so I head west, across the rolling hills toward the meadows beyond. The ground here isn't as manicured as the other gardens, but the grass is still uniform, and the flowers are contained to planters or orderly rows along either side of the several footpaths that wind through the hills and meadows.

Niall could not have done all of this himself. The estate is six hundred thirty-two acres, nearly a full square mile of landscaping. It would take a whole team of people to handle this. I don't know why that stands out to me, but it does.

"You're the governess."

The thick, coarse voice startles me so badly that I leap into the air and shriek. I spin around and find myself facing a man of perhaps forty with tanned, leathery skin and narrow, deep-set eyes. His form is thin, almost scrawny, but his hands are large and strong.

He looks at me with an expression that reminds me far too much of the one he cast on Minerva Montclair. "Name's Niall Weaver," he says. "I'm the gardener."

I stare at him in shock for a moment longer, then find my voice. "Y—yes. I'm the governess. Mary Wilcox. Are you in the habit of sneaking up on women unawares?"

He laughs—a harsh, cackling sound—and a chill runs down my spine. I am all at once very aware of the fact that I'm alone.

"I don't sneak up," he says. "It's just that most people don't pay attention."

He fixes me with a grin that is not quite a sneer and not quite a leer. I decide it's better for me not to remain alone with him. I want to find out who killed Minerva, but I don't want to end up another victim in the process.

"Well, I'll spare you my lack of attention," I say. "Good day, Mr. Weaver."

"Ain't no need to be afraid of me," he said. "I'm not as harmful as I look."

I offer a smile I don't feel. "I'm happy to hear that."

I head away from him, but a moment later, I hear his footsteps behind me. I turn quickly and see him walking with me, just far enough apart that I don't feel the need to shriek and sprint away.

"That's a dark home," he says unprompted. "With a dark family. It's funny how the prettiest creatures are so often the deadliest."

"Do you have a fascination with pretty creatures, Mr. Weaver?"

"Call me Niall. And everyone likes pretty things, Miss Mary. Not that anyone cares what I like. People only talk to me when they don't want to hear something back. That's the nature of being a servant. You're not quite considered a person, but you look like one. If you're quiet enough, you can hear things you wouldn't believe. Secrets people wouldn't tell their own mothers."

I think back to Eliza's and Lucas's and even Veronica's confidences. At the time, I was shocked that they would talk about these things with me, but I just assumed they're desperate for anyone to talk to. I don't consider that part of it might be the fact that I am, when it comes to it, unimportant in the grand scheme of their lives.

But what Niall says makes sense.

I am well aware that I could be talking to a murderer, but the chance to discover information that might lend insight to this family is too much to pass up. And perhaps I can get him to admit something that will either prove his involvement or clear his name.

"What secrets have you heard?"

He laughs and grins at me again. "So you're interested in secrets? Ha-ha. It's always the proper ones that want the gossip."

My cheeks start to burn, and I say, "If you're only following me to taunt me, then I bid you good day."

"Not at all," he says. "But I ain't gonna tell you everything I know. It's for your own safety, you understand. People like the Carltons wield power that common folk like you and I can't begin to grasp. Best to stay in the good graces of people like that."

"And are you in their good graces?"

He grins at me. "Ain't you seen how pretty their gardens are?"

"And you expect me to believe that you're responsible for all of that?"

"Not meself, no. I have a team of people that work for me."

"That work for you ?"

He laughs. "Surprised? My speech might be coarse, and my look rough, but I have a master's degree from Oxford, and I own a landscaping company that makes twelve million a year. That might pale in comparison to the wealth of a tech mogul like Sebastian Carlton, but it's nothing to sneer at."

"I… I see." My cheeks burn again. "I apologize."

"No need to be sorry," he says easily. "No one would look at me and think that in any other part of England, I'd be the one putting on airs and getting a French chef to cook me suppers. But in the Cotswolds, I am what you see before you. Just a lowly gardener. And that's how I like it."

I should let the conversation end there, but I'm close enough to the house that if I were to scream, Eliza and Lucas would hear it. It's foolish to ask what I ask next, but I suppose it's time to stop pretending that understanding the foolishness of my actions will stop me.

"What do you know of the missing girl? Minerva Montclair?"

His smile fades. A thrill of fear runs down my spine. I glance toward the house and prepare to run, but he makes no move toward me. After a moment, he says, "I'm going to say this once more, Miss Wilcox. It's best to stay in the Carltons' good graces. They're the type of family that can make people disappear when they want, and it don't matter if they were your friends before. This is the Cotswolds. People live different lives here. The politicians would like you to believe that the aristocracy is dead, but it ain't. Best to think of the Carltons as royalty and yourself as a common serf. It ain't good for your pride, but it's good for your health."

"Are you saying that the Carltons had something to do with Minerva's disappearance?"

"I ain't saying anything but what I've said," he replies.

I've spent the past ten minutes prepared to run at a moment's notice, but in the end, he's the one who flees. He turns around and walks off without looking back.

I watch him until he disappears into the south woods, then head back to the house. The bright white paint and pristine lines of the manor glitter like glass in the sun.

***

Dinner is a more reserved affair tonight than it was the night before. The family still shows signs of the distraction they showed in the morning. Most of the conversation is about their various tasks tomorrow, and I am not included in that.

The only exception is when Veronica asks Lucas, "So how was your first day of instruction with Mary?"

He nods and says, "It was good. She's very intelligent. I think I'll learn a lot."

I notice he mentions nothing about the photography or the project I've given him. I heard him mention it in front of Eliza earlier, but she doesn't say anything either. In fact, she shows no sign of interest at all.

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy to hear that." She turns to me. "And isn't Lucas such a bright child?"

I smile at her. "He's very bright. I think I'll learn as much from him as he does from me."

Veronica laughs and turns to Sebastian. "See? I told you she was the right choice."

Sebastian gives me a dazzling smile. This time, my heart doesn't flutter. "I'm pleased to welcome you to the family, Mary."

"I'm pleased to be here."

Veronica beams at Lucas and hugs him tight. Her knuckles are white around his shoulder, and her teeth are bared like a lioness's. Lucas seems to shrink in her grasp, not really a movement so much as a sense of diminishing. I am reminded uncomfortably of my own mother. She made no pretense of affection, but she diminished Annie in much the same way Veronica appears to diminish Lucas.

Veronica looks around at all of us and dares any of us to challenge her behavior. Eliza looks down at her plate. Oliver looks at his father. Sebastian takes a bite of his roasted lamb and calmly says, "Henri's outdone himself this time. We'll have to talk about a bonus for him."

I am the only one to meet Veronica's gaze, but what am I to do? I am, after all, only a servant.

So, after a moment, I lower my head to my own plate and say, "It really is quite delicious."

The forlorn look on Lucas's face breaks my heart.