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“Of course it matters.” He felt her small hand at his arm. He swiveled to look at her again, so bright, so pretty. “How can you live your life without happiness, or even the hope of happiness?”
“Now I know you mock me,” he growled, and wrest his arm free.
He strode from the kitchen, deaf to her protest. He knew she didn’t have it in her to be so cruel, but her very honesty was in some ways more harsh than mocking laughter. How could he think of a future when he had none, when he’d given up all faith of one nearly seven years ago? Even the thought of resurrecting that optimism filled him with a kind of horror. No, better to flee the kitchen and his too-perceptive housekeeper than to face his own weakness.
HELEN WAS OUT front sweeping the step that afternoon when a rumbling made her look up. A great carriage and four was coming down the drive, and the sight was so strange—as she’d already become used to the castle’s isolation—that all she could do was stand there and gape for a moment. Then fear slammed her heart into her ribs. Dear God, had Lister found them?
By rights, Meg or Nellie should be sweeping the step, but the maids were busy turning over the first-floor sitting room. So she’d gone after the step herself following luncheon, maddened by the sight of the weeds growing between the cracks. Which left her standing in a rumpled apron armed only with a broom. She didn’t even have time to try and hide the children.
The carriage rolled majestically to a stop and a bewigged footman jumped down to set the step and open the door. A very tall lady emerged, bowing her head to clear the carriage roof. Helen nearly dropped to the ground in relief. The lady wore an elegant cream dress with a striped underskirt and a lace cap topped by a straw hat. Behind her was a shorter, plump lady, all in lavender and yellow with a great frilly cap and bonnet framing her jolly red face. The tall lady straightened and frowned at Helen through a pair of formidable and rather odd spectacles. They were large, entirely round, and had thick black frames with an X between the eye pieces.
“Who,” the woman said, “are you?”
Helen curtsied, rather well she thought, considering she was holding a broom. “I’m Mrs. Halifax, Sir Alistair’s new housekeeper.”
The tall lady raised her eyebrows skeptically and turned to her companion. “Did you hear that, Phoebe? Chit says she’s Alistair’s housekeeper. Does it seem likely to you that he’s hired a housekeeper?”
The shorter, plump lady shook out her skirts and smiled at Helen. “Since she said she’s the housekeeper, Sophie, and since she was sweeping the step as we arrived, I think we must assume that Alistair has indeed obtained a housekeeper.”
“Hmm,” was all the tall lady said to that. “You might as well show us in, girl. I doubt Alistair has a decent room, but we’re staying nonetheless.”
Helen felt her face warm. It’d been quite a while since she’d last been called a girl, but the lady didn’t seem to mean anything by it.
“I’m sure I can find something,” she said, not sure at all. If she set the maids to cleaning two of the spare rooms right away, they might be ready by nightfall. Might.
“Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves,” the shorter lady murmured.
“Should we?” wondered her companion.
“Yes.” Was the firm reply.
“Very well,” the taller lady said. “I am Miss Sophia Munroe, Sir Alistair’s sister, and this is Miss Phoebe McDonald.”
“How do you do?” Helen curtsied again.
“Very pleased to meet you,” Miss McDonald beamed, her plump, red cheeks shining. She seemed to have forgotten that Helen was a servant.
“Won’t you come this way?” Helen said politely. “Um… is Sir Alistair expecting you?”
“Of course not,” Miss Munroe said promptly as she stepped inside the castle. “If he was, he wouldn’t be here.” She took off her hat and frowned around the hall. “He is here, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes,” Helen said, taking both ladies’ hats. She looked about the hall and finally laid them on a marble table. Hopefully it wasn’t too dusty. “I’m sure he’ll be quite pleased to know you’ve come to visit.”
Miss Munroe snorted. “Then you’re more sanguine than I.”
Helen thought it best not to reply to that comment. Instead, she led her guests to the sitting room that she’d set the maids to cleaning, crossing her fingers that things had progressed since luncheon.
But when she opened the door, Tom the footman was sneezing explosively, his head covered in an enormous dusty cobweb, and both Meg and Nellie were giggling uncontrollably. The servants straightened at her entrance, and Nellie slapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter.
Helen sighed and turned back to the ladies. “Perhaps you’d prefer to wait in the dining room. It’s the only entirely neat room in the castle, I’m afraid—barring the kitchen.”
“Not at all.” Miss Munroe swept into the room and stared critically at the moth-eaten row of stuffed animal heads that lined one wall. “Phoebe and I can direct matters here whilst you fetch Alistair.”
Helen nodded and left the servants behind with the ladies. As she mounted the stairs, she could hear Miss Munroe barking orders. She hadn’t seen Sir Alistair since their argument this morning in the kitchen. The truth was that she’d been avoiding him, she’d even sent Meg up with his luncheon instead of delivering it herself. In fact, she realized as she made the third floor, she wasn’t completely sure that Sir Alistair was lurking in his tower room. For all she knew, he’d decided to take one of his rambles.
But when she knocked at the door to the tower, Sir Alistair’s deep voice rasped, “Come.”
She opened the door and stepped into the tower. Sir Alistair was at the biggest table, bent over a book with a magnifying glass in his hand.
