Page 28 of The Case of the Curate

There was another major staircase, of course, in the east wing, and also the servants’ stairs. Anyone could have used those without Lewis’s being aware they had gone down or up… And presumably Otteridge did use it to return from downstairs, though why was not clear.

At the back of the house, Kemp emerged through the baize door, going about his dignified business. Kate’s privacy with Lewis was over for now.

“Time to take that walk,” she said lightly, “and get my thoughts in order.”

Hastily, Lewis opened the front door and Kate sailed through.

Chapter Six

Lewis closed the door firmly behind Lady Ambrose. He couldn’t make up his mind whether she was excessively kind or excessively inquisitive. He didn’t mind the former, but he was damned if he’d put up with the latter, which was good for no one and certainly not for him.

“Lady Ambrose has gone out?” old Kemp asked, as usual managing to convey his disapproval of everything. “It looks like there will be rain. Did you send for her outerwear?”

“She never asked for it, Mr. Kemp. She had a shawl with her, says she’s just taking the air. Shall I send for her maid to go after her?”

“No, no, it’s too late now. Mind your post, Lewis, and remember to be attentive.”

“Yes, Mr. Kemp.”

Silly old fossil. Lewis waited until the butler had made his stately way upstairs, then sank back onto his narrow bench in the porter’s box. Life felt unbearably empty without Dinah. Perhaps in time he’d come to appreciate the freedom from the torment of want and temptation, but right now, it was as if all the light had gone out the world.

All the servants knew she was dead, although it had never been officially announced. No doubt her body was already being transported to the aunt who wouldn’t want it, just so the rich Chadbons could avoid the cost and annoyance of her burial.

That was best. More than his job was at stake if the truth ever got out…

He would have to get the damned thing back. In fact, now would be an excellent opportunity. The maids were all busy clearing up after tea and setting the dining room table for the evening meal.

He rose and marched swiftly down the long hallway to the baize door. He almost collided with Andrew on the stairs, but the first footman, Lewis’s superior and pretender to Kemp’s throne if the old goat ever retired, merely grunted by way of acknowledgment and didn’t question him.

Without going into the servants’ hall or the kitchen, Lewis hurried past, along the corridor to the maids’ dormitory.

He knew, because Dinah had told him, that her bed was nearest to the door. He knew she’d liked that position because it was easier to escape at night and go wherever she wanted when the house and the grounds were quiet.

It had made Lewis jealous, for he suspected she’d met other men in that way. But at least she’d let Lewis kiss her…once. It was her subsequent coldness that had led him to show off. Well, that and his fear for her.

All the beds had a narrow hanging locker beside them, and a small bedside table with one drawer. Dinah’s drawer held a hairbrush, a comb, and several pins, plus three neat, self-sewn handkerchiefs, all cleaned, folded, and pressed.

He shut the drawer and felt under the pillow, then beneath the mattress. Damn her, where did she put it? Did she give it to someone else?

Straightening, he opened the locker and found a folded apron and cap on the shelf beside her plain bonnet. A black maid’s dress was hanging up next to a warm pelisse and the bright-blue dress that she wore on her half days. It matched the blue of her eyes.

“What are you doing in here?”

Starting, he spun around to face Mrs. Thornfield, whose normally kindly countenance was as sharp as she’d sounded.

He swallowed. “Sorry, Mrs. Thornfield. I just wanted something to remember her by. She was…she was special to me.”

“That doesn’t mean you can come in here, let alone rifle through her things and help yourself.”

The words were harsh, but at least her face had lost the angry suspicion.

“I know,” he said humbly. “But I thought Her Ladyship would send it all to the aunt who was nothing but mean to Dinah.”

“She probably will,” Mrs. Thornfield admitted.

After a moment, she came over to him and he made way. She opened the drawer and her frown came back.

“Did you take the necklace?” she snapped, holding out her hand.