Page 33 of Grave Expectations
"Find anything?" he asked when he rejoined me in my sitting room.
"Nothing. Come sit by me near the fire. Your feet must be freezing."
He looked down at his bare feet. "They're a little cold."
"And you only just noticed?" I clicked my tongue and ordered him to sit. Then I sat on his lap. "We'll find him, won't we?"
"Holloway? Yes."
"And the other killer."
He circled his arms around me. "I suspect learning the identity of the killer will lead us to finding Holloway."
"You think the murderer helped Holloway escape?"
"They must be linked. I don't believe in coincidence."
I laid my head on his shoulder and enjoyed how his arms tightened around me and his body began to relax. "I hope you're right."
Mrs. Webb'sfirst day was a baptism of fire. Not only did she have a great deal of housework to accomplish, but a delivery of furniture arrived from Monsieur Fernesse's gallery. And then there were the applications for the maids' positions to sift through.
When the cart with our new sofa and armchairs rolled up shortly after lunch, Lincoln instructed Gus to remain home with me "to assist with the lifting," while he took Seth with him to speak to Widow Drinkwater. I suspected he wanted Gus near me as an extra safety measure while strangers came and went from the house. Apparently more of our French purchases were on their way.
I didn't mind. I enjoyed Gus's company, but he had a terrible eye for decorating. "The vase would look better on the table by the window," I told him, setting it there. "And that old statue is hideous. Put it in the attic."
He pouted at the clay statue of a bulldog in his hand. "But it's unique!"
"It's still hideous. I wonder where it came from."
"Last owner of Lichfield, prob'ly. The committee bought the house and contents, lock, stock."
"Should we leave the new sofa on the right of the fireplace, where the old one was, or on the left? I can't decide." It wasn't lost on me that in a matter of months I'd gone from stealing food to survive to rearranging furniture and managing a household. Fortune had certainly smiled upon me. I would never forget it.
Gus stroked his grizzly chin. "Don't know. I ain't good at this sort of thing."
"Perhaps we'll ask Seth when he returns."
"What about Lady H?" At my wrinkled nose, he added, "P'haps not. Mrs. Webb?"
"Why not. Will you fetch her, please? I think she's in the kitchen, going through applications."
He placed the statue in a chest earmarked for the attic and went in search of the housekeeper. She entered a few minutes later, Gus at her heels carrying a tray of tea things and slices of walnut cake.
"This looks lovely," Mrs. Webb said, running her hand along the curved back of the sofa. "What marvelous pieces!"
"Monsieur Fernesse has an excellent eye," I said.
She poured tea and handed a cup to me and the other to Gus. Her mood was buoyant, yet her smile was odd and not quite genuine.
"I hope you've settled in, Mrs. Webb. I know it will take time to grow used to our ways here at Lichfield, but I hope you'll be happy."
"It's difficult to know, yet." She stood by the fireplace, her hands clasped in front of her.
I sipped. "Do you see anything in this room that you think ought to be changed?"
She arched a brow and glanced around again. "No. It's quite lovely."
"Good." I sipped again, and this time the tea seemed to taste odd. Bitter. "Is this a different brew?"
