Lucy crouched low and peeked inside the bedroom.
Peter was trying to warm a porcupine in bed.
Lucy cursed under her breath. Was no one ready to leave
their rooms on time tonight?
"Are you warm, little one?" Peter asked the
porcupine whom he had covered with a blanket and placed in the middle of the
bed.
A little nose poked out from underneath the dark wool and
quivered.
"I suppose I will have to keep you in my room until you
feel better," he said gently tapping the nose. "I don't want to leave
you alone, but the kittens have to be fed."
He placed a bit of bark next to the porcupine’s nose and
stood up.
Lucy quickly scuttled away from the door and hid behind a
large potted plant. She waited until the sound of Peter's footsteps faded away
before darting into his room.
The porcupine tucked its nose back under the blanket at her
entrance.
Peter's room was near the staircase. Hence, every few
moments Lucy froze in terror when someone went up or down the stairs. When she
was not frozen, she searched the room.
She found lots of cotton wool, heaps of old clothes,
blankets and glass jars filled with strange liquids and powders.
"Come down, you rascal," Lady Sedley yelled.
Lucy squished the funny smelling leaves she had been
inspecting in fright.
"Don't you dare make those cheeky faces at me,"
Lady Sedley continued.
Cheeky faces? Lucy frowned and tiptoed towards the door.
"Peter, come and take your baboon away. The blasted
creature has leaped over the gate again. I am certain he is going to my room to
steal the sugared pineapples. Come here you monster. How dare you show me your
scarlet bottom? You will be cooked I tell you."
The bell tinkled as the wooden gate swung open.
Lucy did not wait for Lady Sedley to ascend and begin
chasing Palmer around the house. She threw the leaves on the carpet, sprang out
the door and pelted down the hallway, all before Lady Sedley had taken three
steps.
Back in her room she scrubbed her hands with water trying to
get rid of the odd scent of leaves. She rubbed her hands raw busy thinking
about what she had not found in Peter's room.
The jewels.
The blasted elusive cursed pieces of stones were not in
anyone's room. Not the servants, not the family … She threw the soaking muslin
cloth at the wall in frustration.
Things were looking horribly grim.
***
The kitchen fell silent the moment Lucy entered.
She ignored the silence and filled a cup with steaming
coffee.
After a tense moment, the butler resumed conversation with
the valet. "It came to my ears late last night that Lady Sedley has
demanded that the killer be discovered within the next two days. The stress of
living with a murderer," Here the butler slanted a look at Lucy, "is
bothering her nerves. She said that if the murderer is not caught and the
jewels retrieved, then she will be forced to ask Lord Adair to leave. She has
already written to the Duke of Henley who lives a few miles south to come and
finish off the investigations."
"She couldn't ask Lord Adair to leave, could she? She
wouldn't dare," the cook gasped.
"She won't demand it, I suppose, but she will request
him to speed up the investigations," the butler mused. "And when the
Duke of Henley arrives, he can have a go at convincing Lord Adair."
"But the Duke of Henley knows nothing about the
murder," the valet objected.
"Lady Sedley has apprised him of the facts. She wrote
to him about her suspicions, and he is bound to agree with them," the
butler replied.
The valet leaned back in his chair, while his hand spun a
shiny copper coin on the table. "In other words, the duke is coming in two
days’ time … to sentence Miss Trotter."
The cup slipped through Lucy's fingers and crashed to the
ground.
No one moved to clean up the mess.
The butler shrugged and spoke after a long silence.
"It's time to take the tray up for Mr Sedley. He plans to go riding after
an early breakfast this morning."
***
Lucy slowly walked down the stairs towards her room. A piece
of stale cake trembled in her hand as the valet's words swam in her head.
She had two days. Two short days of freedom.
She paused on the steps wondering if she should once again
hunt through the valet's things. Perhaps she had missed something. She had a
strong feeling that Lady Sedley and the valet had killed Lord Sedley together.
After all, Lady Sedley had never looked this blooming happy
when the old man had been alive. Her children would no longer suffer, the small
treasures in the house could be sold and the house let. A substantial fortune—
Palmer snatched the cake out of her hand, pulling her back
to the present. The pugs at her feet licked the dropped crumbs.
She didn’t mind. Her appetite had fled a good while ago.
It was no good. She had searched the valet's room well
enough. She was grasping at straws, trying to find something to occupy her mind
and keep the panic at bay.
All her plans were now exhausted. Not a single bright idea
flickered in her mind, and a hint of hopelessness started worming its way into
her heart.
She entered her room and found Spinoza perched upon the cupboard.
Spinoza flapped his dark wings and cocked his head as if
inspecting Lucy's miserable face. He squawked once and flew away as if wanting
nothing to do with unhappy creatures.
That was it.
She had been given the cut by a darned raven. She could no
longer pretend that the world was full of roses, the air scented with lilies
and the manor full of pleasant faced, cheerful humans beings.
No. The manor was lousy.
The animals didn't love her.
The servants hated her.
The family loathed her.
The orphanage didn’t want her.
She had been accused of crimes she had never committed.
A spirit was haunting her.
No one loved her.
She was a miserable, pathetic, wretched thing and she could
no longer take it anymore.
The river bubbled over and burst its banks. She opened her
mouth and let out a heart wrenching wail.
She sobbed and howled banging her head on the pillow.
Tears cascaded down her face enough to fill a bucket—not one
of those small buckets but a large one. Large enough to contain an entire
family's weeks’ worth of soiled clothes—Her heart felt like it was melting from
sadness, and her entire soul seemed to cry and shake at the unfairness of it
all.
Lord Adair's head appeared at the door.
Lucy banged her head once more on the pillow before
unhappily eyeing him through a curtain of thick brown hair.
He appeared to be pleased and relieved at finding her thus.
"Carry on," he said gesturing at the pillow and popped his head back
out.
"Wait," Lucy yelled, wiping her nose on the back
of her sleeve and throwing the pillow aside.
It was time to face her biggest fear and take risks. Only
one man could save her now, and she had to take the plunge and put all her
trust in him.
She had to talk to Lord William Hartell Adair and if needed
lie prostrate on the ground before him, grab his feet and refuse to let go
until he agreed to help her.
"I am skimming over deep waters heading for the
waterfall," Lucy said the moment she spotted Lord Adair in the library.
"I am about to tip over the edge and crash into the swirling abyss
below," she continued.
He dipped the quill in ink and spoke without looking up.
"Come to the point, Miss Trotter."
"Right, then. I am a harmless little beetle about to be
squished by a giant boot, and it is at times like this when one has to take a
risk."
"I see," he replied, signing off the letter he had
been writing.
"I feel like I have eaten too many cakes and now I am
stuck between two slabs of stone."
Lord Adair put the sealed envelope away and squeezed the
bridge of his nose.
Lucy stepped closer to him. "I am left with no choice.
I have hunted, I have stolen, I have chased and been chased, and yet here I
am."
"Yes?"
"Swinging like a church bell between life and
death."
"Do you need my help?"
Lucy's shoulders dropped. “Something of the sort."
"You concede defeat and admit that I am going to solve
the crime faster than you are?"
"Now look here," Lucy snapped pulling out a chair
and plonking herself down on it. "I didn’t say I am stopping my
investigations. In fact, I have come to share all I know. You can be gallant.
After all, you are a renowned thief catcher. You have a lot of experience, but
I may know something you don't. We can air out our suspicions and discuss our
progress. You can help me, I can help you—"
"I thought you did not need my help."
"Things have changed."
"I see you have found out about Lady Sedley's threat,
and now it's either accept my help or hang."
Lucy pressed her lips together.
Lord Adair softened his tone. "Tell me, whom do you
suspect?"
Lucy eyed him suspiciously. After a moment's hesitation, she
told him about all her discoveries.
He listened quietly, nodding encouragement every now and
then.
She finally relaxed back in her seat and said. “It has to be
Lady Sedley and the valet."
"Lady Sedley was with Peter at the time of the
murder," Lord Adair replied. "And the valet was with the butler in
the kitchen."
"Peter could have lied to protect his mother."
"He could have, but then you have overheard two
conversations between Lady Sedley and Peter, and in both those instances Lady
Sedley seemed to be certain that neither he nor she left the morning
room."
"Ian?" Lucy suggested next.
Lord Adair frowned. "He is in debt and if he does not
get the money, then he may have to go to prison again."
She leaned forward eagerly. "He has the biggest reason
to kill his father—"
"But …"
"But?"
"He did not commit the crime."
"How can you be so certain?"
He replied thoughtfully, "Ian has a short temper, but
he is also a coward and incredibly foolish. He couldn't have killed anyone, let
alone do it so neatly."
"That is mere speculation. He could have a lot going on
behind that sap skull. You never know what is in another person's mind."
He nodded appreciatively. "I agree, which was why I
confirmed with Ian's debtor that on the day of the murder Ian had been with him
until six in the evening. When Ian did go home, he found Lady Sedley ranting
about the missing jewels. She was in no state to be coherent and failed to tell
him about his father's death. Ian had been counting on the jewels to pay his debt,
and he stormed out of the house in anger. He arrived at the village and met me
at the inn and told me all about the theft. The doctor informed us both of Lord
Sedley's death and the shock on his face on hearing the news had been
genuine."
"The servants?"
"All accounted for."
"Elizabeth?"
"Was in the nursery with the children."
Lucy nodded. However evil she wanted to believe Elizabeth
was, the girl did love the children. She rocked her chair back and forth
thoughtfully. "You do not suspect the servants or the family members. The
only person left is …" She lifted her lashes in fright. "You think I
killed him."
Lord Adair chose to keep silent this time.
"And you think I stole the jewels as well."
"From the way things are going, it appears so."
She paled. "I know I am innocent, and according to you
so is everyone else. Then who killed him, Lord Adair? Aunt Sedley's
ghost?"
He smiled. "Something of the sort."
"Well I can assure you it wasn't her."
"Her?"
"Aunt Sedley. She told me so herself."
"She did?"
"Why, yes, she floated into my room the other day and
told me all about it. She thought it highly unfair of the family to blame her.
She can't even touch a human being, let alone harm them. She can frighten the
wits out of you, though, but Lord Sedley was clearly stabbed—"
"Miss Trotter," he interrupted, "I think you
have been out in the sun too long."
"The sun rarely shines at this time of the year, my
lord."
"Well, then the pressure of being accused of a murder
has been too much for your delicate mind. I am afraid you are teetering on the
edge—"
"Eh?"
"I don't know how to say this," he said with a
concerned and kindly look in his eyes, "but you may be partially mad or
totally imbecile. It is hard to say—"
"I am sane as you are, my lord," she said stiffly.
"You should sleep for a few hours. It will do you good.
Have a hot cup of soothing tea, a warming pan at your feet and you shall feel
wonderful—"
"My lord, are you going to help me or not?"
"I am trying to help you."
"Help me find the killer."
"Leave it to me."
"How can I leave it to you? I am the one who stands
accused," she exclaimed.
"Everyone leaves it to me, Miss Trotter. No one has
dared to interfere before now. They have faith in my capabilities."
"Well, I don't."
He shrugged and pulled a fresh sheet of paper towards
himself and began writing.
She watched him for a few moments. When he didn't look up,
she said bitterly, "You have spent the entire time finding alibis for
everyone in the house. How can I trust you?"
He ignored her.
She shook her head in disbelief. She had assumed the man was
a rational, intelligent creature and someone she had hoped deep in her heart
was her ally … someone who wanted to find out the truth.
Now, it seemed, she truly was alone.
She sprang out of the chair and placed her trembling palms
on the edge of the table. "If you believe I did it, then why not arrest me
and be done with it?"
He looked up then. "I never said you did it, Miss
Trotter, though I have a hunch on who it could be. Be patient, I am waiting for
proof. The murderer is clever and has left behind no clues."
"What am I supposed to do until then? I cannot sit
idle."
"You should."
She scowled. "And what will your next step be?"
"Lurk in the dark. When you know who the culprit is,
then it is only a matter of time before he or she makes a mistake. I am waiting
for that mistake, Miss Trotter."