Page 42 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 17

A carry witchet - a conundrum or puzzle

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

The suspicion crept up on him little by little, but once the seed of doubt had been planted, the roots unfurled, curling through him like icy tentacles and wrapping his heart with fear.

Feeling like an utter cad, he went to speak to Keziah's maid, who had returned to her duties a couple of days earlier. Thankfully, since their flight from the viscount on that fateful night, Miss Molly Sweet looked upon him as a cross between the Messiah and their fairy godfather, and was more than ready to put her trust in him.

He found her in the scullery, boiling the copper, ready to deal with her mistress’s washing.

“Good morning, your grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsey and looking rather startled. He couldn’t blame her, as he realised he’d never set foot in this room before in his life.

“Miss Sweet,” he replied with a smile as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I won’t beat about the bush,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’m worried about Lady Todd and … and I think perhaps she might have …” He paused then, not sure of what to say, but the maid rushed forward and grasped his arm before realising her presumption and dropping it like a hot coal.

“Oh, your grace,” she said, looking anxious. “I did think as how p’raps I’d dreamed it, but now …” She swallowed, twisting her hands together, and his eyes drifted to her wrist, which was still heavily bandaged.

Ash reached out and covered her hands with his own, stilling them. “I will protect her, no matter what, Miss Sweet. You have my word of honour.”

Miss Sweet gave him a look of such honest admiration that he was quite startled. He was well used to ladies of all ages flattering him, but had never been such a fool to be taken in by their extravagant and blatantly untruthful comments and fluttering looks. Not when he knew they were merely baiting a hook for his title.

But Miss Sweet looked like she thought him … well, heroic.

Trying hard not to let it go to his head, he smiled at her. “Tell me what you know,” he said, his voice gentle.

Molly nodded, her big eyes grave as her washday-reddened hands worried at a corner of her apron. “It was late, round midnight, p’raps, and I thought I ‘eard a noise. So thinkin’ it was Miss Keziah wantin’ somethin’, I got up to see, and …”

“Yes?” Ash urged as his guts twisted themselves into a knot.

“She weren’t there, your grace,” Molly whispered. “The bed was turned down and the warming pan still in it. She’d never gone to bed, and I tell you, she weren’t in the ‘ouse, neither.”

Ash swallowed, an acidic feeling rising in his throat that tasted very much like terror.

“That weren’t all, sir,” Molly said. She hesitated for a moment before turning and searching through the pile of dirty linen awaiting her attention. Ash watched in horror as she pulled out the dress that Keziah had been wearing yesterday, to reveal the lace at the hem was streaked with blood.

He swallowed and met Molly’s stricken expression with one of his own.

“Burn it,” he said.

The maid nodded, stuffing it back out of sight. “I will, I promise,” she said, nodding with a determined expression, though her cheeks were white with fear.

“Thank you, Miss Sweet,” Ash said, knowing he owed the girl a debt he’d never be able to repay, and reached into his pocket to give her some financial reward for the moment.

“Oh no, sir!” she exclaimed with horror as he held out a sovereign, which was likely more money than she’d seen in her life. “All I ask is that you keep ‘er safe,” she said, her eyes glistening. “She’s been so good to me, an’ that father of ‘ers ‘e was a wicked devil. I’m right glad you killed him,” she added with some heat.

Ash gaped at her and swallowed.

She gave him a grim smile as she closed his fingers back around the sovereign and pushed his hand away. “Don’t you worry, your grace. I swear on my life that I’ll take anything I know to my grave,” she said with a solemn expression. “I been wishin’ someone would do the wretched man in for years. I even considered doin’ it myself,” she added, the confession making her ruddy cheeks burn hotter still in the steamy atmosphere. “And then … you came.” She gave a wistful sigh as she looked at him, and Ash was suddenly forcefully aware of being alone in a scullery with a young maid. He cleared his throat and gave her a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Miss Sweet,” he said, meaning it more than his words could express and moving to the door. “I will rely on that, and one day, I shall repay your kindness and loyalty.”

Closing the door behind him Ash took a breath and tried to steady his heart.

“Oh, God, Keziah, what have you done?”

***

“Where’s that bloody boy?” the inspector raged as he glowered at his hapless constable.