A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance (24 page)

And on the morrow, when her services were no longer required, she could set off for Steadman Hall, none the worse for her adventures. At least, she
hoped
she was none the worse. She
truly
hoped that meeting Lord Merridew had not somehow upset
the delicate balance of her peace of mind. It had been an interesting encounter but it was hardly one that could be expanded on as things stood.

Her thoughts were interrupted by
a scuttling noise off to one side and she turned abruptly, staring towards the heavier darkness
beyond the soothing light of her candle
. Rats… She took a step towards the stairs,
then
stopped
abruptly
. She could hardly abandon her post now. Instead, holding the candle high, she crept towards a pile of trunks
that were close by
,
leaning drunkenly towards an abandoned occasional table and a stack of Queen Anne chairs. The trunks were
piled
three high and would surely provide adequate protection from casually prying eyes.
They were ancient things banded with brass, their metal surfaces pitted with rust
and she briefly wonder
ed what they held before dismiss
ing the question
.
More junk, in all likelihood, from the endless supply that Abel Merridew had managed to generate. Unless his predecessors had also been
bower birds
. Surely
one
man couldn’t be responsible for all this?

Moving cautiously, she dropped the candle down
so she could see the stone floor beneath her feet. Another scuttling noise made her catch her breath but she
stayed fi
rm, refusing
to bolt.
If they see you, they’ll run away
… Rats probably ran away from Lord Merride
w, sensing a no nonsense spirit
but it would be quite a different matter with
her
, she was sure. Having fetched up behind the trunks
,
which came up to her nose, she
blew out a breath
and took stock
.

His lordship
would
surely
be back
in a minute
. How big could this wretched cellar be? And if he had found another door then surely he would
come
and
tell her. Wouldn’t he?
Unless he decided to investi
gate.
Having known the man for a little over twenty-four hours, she thought that he probably
would
investigate anything he di
scovered
.
Without coming back to tell her.
After all, she had a door of her own to guard.

She gave a soft groan.
‘I am hopeless at this kind of thing.
What was I thinking?
I am
not
a stableboy!
’

After a time – and really, she felt it was a very long time – she heard a clunk and a scraping sound, followed by booted footsteps. His lordship? Nobody had emerged from the door she wa
s watching. Was it his lordship
returning? There was another scraping noise and Caprice moistened her lips, straining to listen.
Was
it Lord Merridew? She crouched down,
doing her best to shield the light from
her candle for
it
would certainly give her away
if it were not his lordship
. She knew she should blow it out for it would
still be visible
but she was loathed to do so. It would leave her at the mercy of the darkness and frankly, being discovered by French spies was mor
e appealing than being left to whatever she might envisi
on creeping towards her
. French spies were at least tangible. But if she extinguished her ca
ndle then all the
unseen things t
hat her imagination was far too eager to conjure
– and
that she had been busily trying to ignore
since setting foot in the cellar – would
rise up to consume her.

No. Come what may, n
oth
ing on earth was going to
make her crouch in the darkness..
.

The scraping noise came again, and the sound of shifting boots on stone
from somewhere not too distant
.
She was almost sure that it was the direction Lord
Merridew had disappeared in
. It was hard to be sure of anything in a place that threw sounds back at
you,
echoes bouncing off the low stonewalls.
She wanted to call out
but it was too risky
and the knowledge kept her silent
, just in case she drew an unseen enemy to her
. Another sound close behind her, that of small paws scratching made her catch her breath and she turned her head sharply, raising the candle to see whatever soft, furry body was tormenting her. Instead of a rat’s whiskered face, however, the light settled on the glassy stare of a pair of eyes that appeared to be staring directly at her.
She blinked, her mind unable to comprehend what she was seeing for
several
long, painful moments.

The figure of a man,
slouched limply against a rack of wine, one arm outstretched, his face holding a peculiar blankness… H
orror rose up in Caprice like bile and she screamed
, dropping the candle
,
which immediately went out.

Trapped in the darkness with
a
n
awfulness
beyond all reason, Caprice screamed
again, unable to hold it back any longer, great shuddering screams that caromed off the walls…

Lord Merridew ha
d been investigating the
extensive ce
llar that seemed to extend beneath
much of the building above
it
, its ancient stone arches separating endless wine racks. He had to wonder how anybody h
ad ever hoped to fill them all, although having an illicit supply at ones disposal must have helped considerably. Not that all of the racks were full, far from it. Clearly Abel had enjoyed a drink or six.

He had been pulling away a pile of boxes, thinking that he had spotted the outline of a door behind – although he had quickly seen it was merely a shallow recess in the wall – when the sound of sudden screaming made him freeze. ‘What the devil…?’

It was an extraordinary sound, an ear piercing sound and he cursed, snatching the lantern up and hurrying towards the source of that
shocking cacophony. Hurrying towards the source
, he found Jem behind a pile of trunks, his hands over his face.

‘Good God! Whatever is the matter?’

The hands dropped
away and a woebegone white co
u
ntenance
, wet with tears, looked at him. The boy was shaking. He shook his head. ‘O-over there…’

Cass looked around, bewildered, swinging the lantern high. It took him a moment to see what Jem Morris must have seen and when he did, he gave a startled oath. ‘Sweet Jesus!’

‘It’s… it’s…’

‘It’s the missing Priss!’ Cass said, moving forward to let the light of the lantern fall more fully on the prone figure.
The valet was clea
rly and irrevocably dead, from some kind of
head wound if the blood that stained his left ear and the floor beneath his head were any indication. ‘It appears that you have found him.’

‘Priss?’ Jem repeated, sounding thoroughly shaken. As well he might, Cass thought grimly. Coming on a body in the dark would surely discompose anybody.

‘Our missing valet.
Somebody has killed him.’

There was a gasp behind him. ‘
Murdered
him?’

‘Unless he bashed his
own head in.’

‘But… was it your cousin and the Grand Duchess?’

‘Impossib
le. He’s been dead for a little while, at least a few hours I’d say
.’

‘We were only down here this morning.
Or yesterday morning.
I suppose it’s after midnight.’ Jem sounded vague, which was definitely the shock. ‘Surely we would have seen him then?’

‘I’d say he wasn’t here then. Actually, I’d wager he hasn’t been here for long. And y
ou’re right, we would have seen him. Which means that he was alive until quite recently. Hiding about the place.’

‘The more time I spend here, the more I wish I’d continued on to Steadman Hall!’
Jem muttered, voice subdued.

‘Under the circumstances, I can hardly blame you.’ Cass had squatted d
own to examine the body
. He couldn’t claim to be a medical man but it appeared that the body had lain here for some hours. The blood beneath the head was dry, staining the stone floor beneath in a dark pool. Priss was a man whose age had always been difficult to place, but Cass guessed he must be somewhere in his late fifties. His thin face had never been appealing, being too sharp, while his large nose had dominated his face. The pale blue eyes – open and staring in death – were really quite disconcerting. ‘I wonder who did him in?’

‘What are we going to do? There appears to be a murderer running about the place.’
The boy sounded more composed now, although there was still a quiver in his voice. Clearly he was making an effort to pull himself together.

‘Indeed,’
Cass rose to his feet and considered the problem. What were they going to do? He had a cellar that had a body in it, several missing guests who were probably spies who were making free with his tunnels and absolutely no idea what was going on. ‘I wonder who the local magistrate is?’

‘Should
n’t
we summon a physician?’

‘I think Priss is past a physician’s services.’

‘W
e can’t just leave him here.’

‘Why not? He’s in no conditio
n to go anywhere
.’

‘Yes, but…’ There was a pause. ‘Well what are we going to do about Mr. Ravener and the Grand Duchess? I really don’t want to keep watch in the presence of a body.’

Cass frowned, wondering if the missing pair had heard Jem screaming. It had certainly been penetrating. Really, he had never realized a
boy could sound so… so shrill. The question was, would Hadley and Maria actual
ly return this way? They might, if they had not hear
d the uproar, believing that the route would pose the least risk for their unknown guest
.

‘Go and wake up that gardener that arrived today. I have no idea what his name is. Ask him to go and get the local magistrate. He’ll know who
t
he
man
is
, no doubt
.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Wait here in case our nocturnal wanderers return.’

Jem hesitated for a moment,
then
nodded, bending over to pick up the dead candle. ‘Can you light this for me? I dropped it.’

Cass nodded. Coming forward, he laid a h
and on the boy’s shoulder and ga
ve it a reassuring squeeze. Really, he seemed very young and oddly vulnerable. ‘All right?’

‘Yes. I… I’m sorry about the noise. It was just -’

‘Don’t apologize. I daresay
I
would have screamed if I’d seen what you had.’

‘Not likely. It’s just that I’ve never seen a body before.’ Candle lit, Jem ducked his head. ‘I’ll go and rouse the gardener then.’

‘You might as well rouse Mrs. Flannel as well. If we’re dragging the magistrate out in the middle of the night then we
might need to feed and water the man.
’ Jem nodded and hurried towards the stairs, clearly delighted by the prospect of leaving the cellar b
ehind. Cass watched him go before turning
back to the body, eyeing the fallen figure of Priss thoughtfully. ‘Now what,’ he murmured contemplatively, shaking his head, ‘have you been up to? Hiding
yourself
away about the place. Clearly it did you no good at all for somebody decided to put an end to you. I wonder why that might be. One way or another, my friend, I suspect you were up to no good…’

Chapter Ten

Caprice managed to stir the sleeping household in record time, starting with Mrs. Flannel as she didn’t actually
know where the gardener’s room was
and was reluctant to go crashing around the place looking for him
. The housekeeper knew, however. While initially outraged at being disturbed from her sleep – and on the very first night she had taken up residence
, too!
–
she
listened to Caprice’s barely coherent explanation, eyed the girl narrowly for a moment, then hoisted herself out of bed.