Her flesh crawled. She was sure she heard someone’s breath—though it might have been her own, erratic and shallow. Something moved at the corner of her eye, a swirl of air and shadow, and she whirled abruptly toward it.
Nothing but darkness.
With relief, she found the post at the head of the staircase and grasped it, shuffling forward until she could feel the drop of the first stair under her foot. She slid her hand from the post down to the banister, but before she could grip it, two handsshoved her hard in the back and she tumbled forward into darkness.
So much for trivial and harmless…
*
Sophie Chadwick hadthe uneasy feeling that things were coming to a head. Part of that was no doubt due to her own guilty conscience, and the shocking, uneasy suspicions that had begun to plague her. And she had been only too aware all evening of Mr. Grey and Mrs. Silver, circulating and asking questions.
When she saw Mrs. Silver leave the drawing room, it even crossed her mind that the woman had gone to poke around Miss Mortimer’s or Miss Jenson’s private things—though why on earth would she suspect such kind and respectable old ladies?
Miss Fernie slipped out a few moments later. Everyone needed to deal with calls of nature…
And yet when Mr. Mortimer went out too, a quite different suspicion hit her.
Had Mrs. Silver made some kind of assignation with him? They had seemed rather friendly during the first game, and afterward had appeared to exchange some intense conversation. But surely Mrs. Silver did not know what he was like. That he lurked in dark corners and imagined women liked to be handled like…
She left the drawing room yet held on to the door handle for a moment. The footman had vanished from his post, perhaps even sent away from it by Mortimer. Worse, the stairs and the landing above were in darkness. Someone had put out the lights to the retiring room.
Hastily, Sophie picked up the branch of candles that stood on the table outside the drawing room and strode purposefully to the stairs—too late.
Something thudded in the blackness above and fell like a bouncing ball to lie in a dark heap on the half landing.
With a cry, Sophie leapt up the stairs, the candle flames flickering wildly. It was Mrs. Silver, her eyes wide open and staring at Sophie.
“Oh, ma’am, what happened? Can you move?” Sophie sank down beside her, placing the candlestick on the step above.
“I… I think so,” Mrs. Silver said, much to Sophie’s relief, even though her voice was unsteady. She cleared her throat. “I think I saved my head. For once… Though my arm hurts like the devil. Sorry, that isn’t very ladylike, is it?” She smoothed her hands over her skirts as though to be sure she was decent—or perhaps feeling for injury to her leg.
“Let me help you to sit up,” Sophie said. “Slowly, now.”
Mrs. Silver sat, wincing as she took her weight on her arm. “I believe I am fine.”
“What happened?” Sophie demanded. “Why are the lights out?”
“I can only imagine someone put them out. It was perfectly bright when I entered the cloakroom.”
“Was…was anyone else up there?” Sophie asked.
Mrs. Silver glanced up at the dark landing, then refocused on Sophie’s face. “Can you guide me somewhere private for a few moments until I recover?”
“Of course. Let me fetch my father. And Mr. Grey—”
“No,” Mrs. Silver said flatly. She smiled slightly, “Not yet…”
With Sophie’s help and holding on to the banister, Mrs. Sliver stood and took a step forward. Sophie snatched up the candlestick and told Mrs. Silver to lean on her. In this way they made their way slowly to the foot of the stairs and to the small antechamber beside the drawing room. It was in darkness, but the branch of candles soon lit it up well enough. Sophie easedMrs. Silver into one of the two armchairs, then went and closed the door before joining her.
“Give me your arm,” Sophie said, and was pleased when Mrs. Silver raised it unaided. She felt her way along the bones, asked her patient to bend her elbow and wrist, then wiggle her fingers and move her shoulder. Fortunately, all seemed to be in working order. “I think it’s just bruised, but my father should really have a look.”
“I will consult your father tomorrow if it’s not better,” Mrs. Silver said with a sort of forced lightness in her voice. She was not going to give in this evening, though her reasons were not at all clear.
“What happened?” Sophie asked again. “Did you miss your footing in the dark?”
Mrs. Silver, still rather white and tight-lipped, held her gaze. “I’m afraid I was pushed. I didn’t see by whom, but at least I know it wasn’t you, since you cameupthe stairs toward me. No one else has come down.”
“No, but there are two other staircases they could use. And I know who left the room after you did.”
