Page 5 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Rosalind stopped breathing; worried Benton would be punished for interrupting. But the dark menace paused and looked at the older servant for only a second before continuing.
“I will begin interviews first thing tomorrow. Are there any others who live here in the manor and are not present now?” Sir Devlin inquired.
“Just the children, Kaylyn and Luella. They are already abed upstairs.”
“They will be included in the interviews. Am I clear?” he said and turned to Rosalind.
She gave him a cursory nod, and then he and Alden turned and left the room, following Ridley to the stairs that adjoined the foyer just outside the main hall.
As soon as the men exited the room, Rosalind gasped. Marta ran from the kitchen and immediately attended to her.
“Deep breaths, milady,” she said decisively and grabbed a chair. She forced Rosalind to sit, and she bent her head over to rest between her knees.
Panic had overtaken Rosalind, and she struggled to breathe. “Oh Marta, what are we to do? He already suspects us!”
“He can’t prove anything!” Marta exclaimed. “Let him search and interview all he wants. If anything happened to that lecherous fool Edmond, it was probably his own fault!”
Rosalind’s breathing calmed after several deep inhalations, and she sat up in her chair. “You’re right, Marta. He’ll find nothing.”
But to her own ears, her words rang hollow.
Chapter Two
Thump!Ridley, who slept in a small room just off the pantry, woke to Marta’s soft singing as she kneaded and punched the dough on the huge wooden table in the middle of the large kitchen. He sighed as he peeled back his covers on his bed. They were a warm cocoon that he didn’t want to leave this cold winter morning. However, he had chores; the first was seeing to other’s comfort before they awoke.
Keeping the large manor house running smoothly was an endeavor that required all who still resided there to work… and work hard. Each member of the household, whether servant or titled, had jobs to do. Marta always woke first, and she was busy in the kitchen long before the sun. Each morning, the smell of baking bread wafted through the great hall, up the stairs, and into the corridors that led to the bedrooms where the rest of the house still slept.
After dressing, he crept quietly upstairs, his single candle barely casting a shadow as he moved down the dark hall. He entered the bed chamber where his lady slept, stoked the fire with the heavy iron poker, and added a log. He then moved into the adjoining room where Kaylyn and little Luella slept and did the same. Normally this room would have been used as a sitting room for the lady of the house, reserved for reading or sewing, but Lady Rosalind preferred to house the girls there and keep them close. Ridley smiled when he heard Kaylyn snoring, and he’d be sure to tease her later.
Ridley didn’t dawdle. Now that there were guests in the manor house, more fires needed tending.
Sir Devlin and Alden’s quarters were next. Ridley moved quickly through the manor, his soft, thin soled shoes were silent on the rough stone floors. When he opened the door into Sir Devlin’s chamber, the well-oiled, iron hinges on the heavy oakdoor made his entry silent, so he thought. He took two quiet steps into the room, but in an instant, the ice-cold edge of a dagger pressed at his throat.
“Sir! Sir Devlin, it is only I, Ridley! Please!” Ridley exclaimed.
“God’s teeth! What do you think you are doing—sneaking in here? I could have killed you!” Devlin growled.
Devlin lowered the dagger, and walked back to his bed, muttering what Ridley was sure were expletives, something about dawn and how no one was up at this hour except thieves and mad men with a death wish.
“So sorry, sir. Milady prefers that I build up everyone’s fires before they wake. The manor is quite drafty.”
“Hrmmph,” Devlin snorted, and he rolled back in bed.
Ridley moved to the fireplace and stirred the coals quickly. His hands shook when he picked up another log, and he dropped it to the floor. The wood thumped loudly on the stone hearth. A loud and very annoyed sigh erupted from Sir Devlin.
“Sorry, sir,” he apologized again quietly.
A pillow flew from the bed and whacked him square in the face.
Ridley quickly picked up the log, completed his task, and left the room. Mr. Danby’s room was directly across the hall, and this time he knocked and announced his presence. His only answer was Alden’s enthusiastic snores that reverberated throughout the room. The large man never stirred while Ridley worked.
Finally, he came to Benton’s small room at the end of the hall. Benton had served the Capell family for decades and had the privilege of a larger chamber. A small sliver of light broke through the wooden shutters, signaling the coming of the dawn, and Benton was still abed. Sometimes, the old servant woke as early as Marta, and he often sat and read in a comfortable chair by the fire—but not this morning. As Ridley crossed the room, hecould just see Benton’s body under the thick blankets on the bed. He looked very still.
“Benton,” Ridley whispered. “Sir…”
Benton never moved.
“Benton. Sir,” Ridley said again to see if Benton was awake.
