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“No,” Colonel Andrews said, frowning. “I have not seen him. Have you, Grey?”
“Not since yesterday,” Eddie said a little stiffly. “Perhaps he went to town.”
“Nothing to keep him here.” Mr. Mallery was busy with his bread and butter. “He was as useless for society in the drawing room as he was for fetching game in the hunting field.”
“Unlike you, old boy, right?” Eddie said. “A fair prince of the drawing room, conversation to dazzle and delight.”
“Lydia, you’re looking well,” said Charlotte.
“Thank you. I am feeling on the mend.”
“Perhaps your nurse, Mrs. Hatchet, is to be praised?” Charlotte asked slyly. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.”
Silence hung over the table, stronger than the aroma of the just-cooked sausages still sizzling on the sideboard.
Miss Gardenside did not look up as she said, “Mrs. Hatchet is no longer with us.”
Charlotte gasped. “What?”
Now all eyes were on Charlotte. Perhaps she’d voiced her shock a little dramatically.
“I sent her home,” said Miss Gardenside. “Since I was feeling better.”
“Oh. Right.”
After breakfast they put on boots and went outside, sloshing through the swampy grass and along the muddied path, breathing in the wet air. As it turned out, the sky is blue in England, from time to time. The rain-scented air, the sunshine, Mr. Mallery on her arm—there was a deliciousness to the moment she could almost appreciate.
“I can see your freckles,” said Mr. Mallery, staring straight ahead.
“You cannot,” she said.
“You taunt me with them constantly.” He snapped a rosebud off a bush. “Come riding with me today. Just the two of us.”
“Um …” Danger, danger! She couldn’t be alone with this man. She’d have to let go and figure out what to feel and think and wasn’t there something she needed to do? “There’s something I need to do.”
As the group meandered through the rose garden, Charlotte made her way over to Eddie.
“The hidden room is part of Colonel Andrew’s mystery,” she said.
“Is it?”
“Yes—it’s his clue on the second floor. The body was a fake, and I wouldn’t wonder if this second mystery will tie into the Mary Francis story somehow. Did he tell you who was supposed to be the new murder victim?”
“I would not tell you if he had,” said Eddie. “That would spoil the fun.”
“I think it’s Mrs. Hatchet or Mr. Wattlesbrook. Colonel Andrews would pick someone obvious. I need to figure out if they’ve really gone or disappeared under mysterious circumstances, that sort of thing.”
“Have you been reading Gothic novels, Charlotte? You know what Mother would say. Women should not indulge in dark fantasies. It disrupts the proper workings of the womb.”
Charlotte snorted and coughed at once, she was so surprised. “The proper workings of the womb?”
Eddie was trying very hard not to laugh. “Indeed.”
&
nbsp; “Never fear, protecting my womb from Gothic novels is my first priority.”
“I am much relieved.”
