Page 104 of A Devilish Element
“Gone t’ bed.”
Jane’s room had been destroyed, and Eliza’s stood nigh with the smuggling going on.
“Why?” Her gaze turned sly and suspicious. “What’s tha planning? Are yer gonna offer comfort, like? Ain’t it a bit soon? He’s not even laid out proper yet.”
“Watch your tongue, girl. That’s not my intent. Nor is it any of your business why I wish to see your mistress. Just tell me how to find her.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll keep me neb out. ’appens, I recalls you’re affatuated with tother one.”
Jem gave her his meanest glare.
“Down a floor.” She wafted him in that direction with her hands and the sway of her broad hips. “Go t’ end of the hall past t’ master’s room, an’ take backstairs. It’s a bit twisty and turny, but if ya keep goin’, you’ll find it. Most of them parts are burned or boarded.”
They were not the best of directions he’d ever had, but not quite as dire as the ones his cousin Sheridan had once given him for how to reach Hardraw Falls.
“Be off with ya then. Miss Wakefield did wi’ the same instructions and didn’t linger.”
So, Eliza was with Jane.
“Wait. I’ve another question first. Where are the other servants?”
Her scowl was enough to curdle cow’s milk fresh from the teat. “Weren’t tha supposed t’ be the smart one? Or are ya trying t’ get your head bashed in? Edith’s in bed. Everyone else is about their business, and if yer’ve any sense you’ll be about yers.”
“Mrs Honeyfield… She’s not involved in this?” He nodded his head towards the door.
Betsy’s gawked at him like he’d suggested her mother was an aardvark. “She ain’t’ from here. Why would she know owt about owt? Ah don’t know where she is, but you’ll like as not smell ’er as not. Reeks a rot, she does.”
“Betsy?” A man’s voice called. “We’re done? Where’s tha?”
“Comin’.” And off she went.
It seemed there were few, if any, of the servants in the castle he could trust. To that end, rather than pursuing Eliza up to Lady Linfield’s room, he settled on saddling a horse and setting forth himself to fetch the magistrate. With luck, it would not be far to the neighbouring estate, and he could be back at Cedarton before anyone missed him.
Vexingly, the stables were as deserted of human occupants as Cedarton’s interior had been. He’d held some hope of finding a stable lad to send off.
Jem walked a path between the stalls, prompting several horses to wicker and stick their noses over the stall doors. He was almost to the door of the tack room when he noted a curious swag of fabric trapped within the door jamb of the end most stall. Closer, it was clear that something lay within.
“Who’s there? Name yourself.”
A muffled thump sounded in reply.
Jem flung the door wide. On the floor in the gloom, bound and muffled, sat Linfield’s valet. He blinked warily and flinched away when Jem reached for the gag around his mouth. “Clement, ain’t it? I mean you no harm.” He raised his lantern so Clement could better identify him. Then he uncovered his mouth and set to releasing the knots in the cords around his wrists and ankles too. “I thought you’d hastened away south hours gone.”
“Mr Whistler…. Thank you.” Wrists freed, the fellow pressed his fingers to the back of his head, then brought them into the light of Jem’s lantern gingerly. They were clean of blood, but judging by the man’s wince when he prodded a second time, there was a lump the size of a bird’s egg on his noggin.
“I were supposed to be. I was all set to be off, just tightening the girth, and someone struck me from behind. They took my horse and cloak and left me trussed up here.”
“Do you know who it was?”
The fellow shook his head, and promptly groaned. “Someone shorter than I, I think.” He winced again. “Based on the angle from which I was hit. I suppose they meant to stop me reaching Bellingbrook.” He stood and dusted off his coat and breeches. “I can saddle another mare now. She won’t be as swift, but—”
“Do,” Jem agreed. “I came here to do as much myself, but if you’re able to take a message then all the better.”
“You were heading to Bellingbrook?”
“Ah, no! Closer. We’ve need of the magistrate. You don’t happen to know who that is? I’m afraid I don’t have the lay of the land.”
“I know where the nearest big house is. It’s Sir Cyril Berkley’s place. It’s a couple of miles east of here. I could ride that way and then head south to Bellingbrook. That’s assuming you still want me to do that?”
