Page 18 of Mistress of Darkness

Together they helped Miss Archer to stand. “Miss, you’ll catch your death in these sodden clothes.”

Though she’d been gazing into the master’s eyes, she looked down at her spoiled dress and grimaced. “It is rather waterlogged.”

“He’s right, Gwen,” Mr. Sheraton said, still holding her hand. “Do go up and change. I shan’t be far behind.”

Although she looked for a moment as though she might protest, she nodded her assent and made for the stairs with sloshing steps.

When the mistress was safely out of earshot, the master turned to him. “Where is everyone, Parks? I had to close the stable myself this morning and our horses are gone. Only Miss Archer’s mare remains.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to put this. “The, uh, servants, sir. Well, they’ve…”

The master put his hands on his hips. “I can see the hall is empty, so out with it, man. What has happened?”

“They’ve quit, sir.”

“Quit?” the master asked, his voice incredulous. “All of them? At once?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so, sir.” Parks waited for a response, and felt like he had to continue when none came. “It’s just that…the investigations, sir. They’ve come up blank. No one can figure out how the chandelier and the chair became broken. And with Frances falling down the stairs and all…”

“I see,” said the young master. Then to Parks’ surprise, his countenance cleared. “I suppose it’s to be expected really.”

Emboldened by his reaction, Parks ventured the one thought that truly plagued him. “Perhaps Miss Gwen is right, sir. Perhaps Dredthorne is haunted, and something means to harm us.”

“Do you really believe that?” Mr. Sheraton asked quietly, searching his face.

Parks lifted his hands. “Well, sir, it’s just that I don’t have a better explanation.” There was the plain truth of it. He had never been a man prone to beliefs in the supernatural, in stories of ghosts and bogey men. But what other explanation did they have?

“In your time with the family, have you ever heard of anything of the like before?” Mr. Sheraton asked.

Parks nodded. “Not these exact circumstances, no, sir. But strange things? Yes, sir. About ten years ago, we had an entire herd of horses stampede. They broke down the fence, flew to the marshes and got stuck and drowned. No one knew why. Then a carriage wheel collapsed, also without reason. The madam of the house suffered fractured ribs. Agnes twisted her knee climbing on a step stool to put away a tureen. Pots of honey disappear, servants hear voices. Strange things have always happened at Dredthorne, but–”

“Well I’d hardly characterize a stampede of frightened beasts and a carriage accident in the same category.”

Parks ducked his head. “You did ask, sir.”

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Sheraton said quickly. “Look, I think I’m going to need a cane for this twisted ankle of mine. Help me to the medical supply closet.”

As Parks supported him under the shoulder and they made their way down the hallway, Mr. Sheraton asked, “Why did you stay, Parks?”

“I’ve served the Sheraton family all my life, sir,” Parks told him. “I’d no sooner desert it than my own.”

Not all household servants prized loyalty to the family—particularly not the younger generation—it was only too true. Their current situation spoke to the very fact. Although he didn’t say it, Parks also had his pride. He could hardly think himself a man if Miss Archer stayed at Dredthorne while he ran away.

“Thank you, Parks,” Mr. Sheraton replied. “I won’t forget that.” They reached the door to the supply closet and the master opened it. “Ah, here we are at last.”

Inside were shelves of bandaging, metal basins, and glass bottles with labels that were faded but still legible. But in the corner, the master spied a cane.

“Yes,” Mr. Sheraton declared, testing his weight on it. “This will do well.” He clapped Parks on the shoulder. “Good man. My thanks again.”

As Parks shut the door, he glanced at the master over his shoulder. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir. There’s no need to thank me just yet, on account of the fact that I can’t cook without burning water.”

As they walked side by side, back the way they came, Mr. Sheraton leaned heavily on the cane. “I see. So you’re telling me that Miss Archer and I will have to fend for ourselves.”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so, sir.”