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Her displeasure in his error was evident in both her frosty tone and the stiff set of her shoulders.
Silently, he cursed himself. “I ought to have waited to tell you, but I was uncertain I would have another chance this evening, and I felt you needed to know at once.”
A bit of warmth crept back into her eyes, and her expression softened a little. “Thank you again for all you are doing.”
Unable to dredge up a smile, he settled for an acknowledging nod. “It’s both my duty and pleasure, madame.” Gesturing for her to precede him, he matched her stride across the foyer and out into the hall. It was all he could do not to groan aloud.
Every part of him was keenly alert to her presence beside him as they entered the dining hall. Curious glances were cast their way as they sat at the staff table, but there was no overt disapproval.
Jacqueline began a conversation with him about the books they were soon to receive as if it were an ongoing one. Relieved, he picked up the thread.
Talk flowed freely around the table, most of it centered on tightening security.
As they spoke, Will pulled out his pocket booklet and made quick notes. If they could manage to implement all of these ideas, they would stand a much better chance of surviving an attack. The changes must be made with both speed and silence. The first would be easy. Figuring out how to do the latter with an informant present would be a challenge.
Watching Jacqueline, he again marveled at her poise and self-assurance. He knew she was beside herself with worry, and yet she emanated calm, imparting to her staff a sense of confidence not only in her but in themselves. The message was clear: the situation was being handled.
The children were dismissed, and he, Jacqueline, and a few staff members unencumbered with evening responsibilities remained to talk further.
“Heavens, it’s late,” said Agnes, yawning as the grandfather clock in the corner struck the ninth hour. She’d come out to join the discussion almost an hour ago after supervising the washing-up and sending the other kitchen staff off to bed.
Jaqueline rose. “How easy it is to lose all perception of time when in the midst of stimulating conversation. I thank you all for presenting your—”
“Mr. Woodson!” called Mrs. Sloane from the doorway. “Come quick, there’s a man at the front asking for you. I asked him through the door to state his business—I dare not open it. He said he was bringing word from the constabulary and begged me to let him in. He claimed he was being watched.”
Will shot to his feet, Jacqueline hard on his heels. When they reached the foyer, Mrs. Sloane made to open the front door, upon which someone was pounding insistently, but Will reached out and stopped her. “Not until I’m certain who it is,” he cautioned in a whisper. Placing his mouth beside the seal, he called loudly, “State your business.”
The pounding stopped. “I—it’s Bartleby, sir,” stammered the man on the other side. “Please, sir, there’s a—”
“Open it,” Will commanded, recognizing his voice.
The instant Mrs. Sloane opened it a crack, Mr. Bartleby squeezed in, shoving her aside. “For God’s sake, bar it!” he gasped over her squawked objection, his eyes wild as he pushed it closed again.
“What happened?” Will barked amid the sudden commotion as Mrs. Sloane and Jacqueline rushed to obey.
“There’s a man lurking about in the bushes across the way,” said the other man, gulping air. “A footpad. Whil
e I was waiting for her to get back,” he nodded at Mrs. Sloane, “I heard a noise behind me—a sort of scraping sound, like rusty hinges. When I looked, I saw a man duck behind the hedges across the street. I think he’s still there—waiting for me to come out.”
Beneath his breath, Will cursed. Because there were no windows at ground level, the only way to confirm the presence of a spy would be to open the door. Even now, Sally could be relaying a message to her master. “Why do you think it was a footpad?”
“Well, he was sneaking about in the dark, wasn’t he?” wheezed Bartleby with a trace of indignation. “An honest man keeps to the light and is unafraid to show his face, while those as stick to the shadows are most likely up to no good. I’ve got nothing of worth, but that won’t stop a thief from slitting my throat to learn the truth of it.”
Will couldn’t fault his logic, not when he’d seen one man kill another for the coat off his back. “You will stay here until sunrise.” He met Mrs. Sloane’s eyes and flicked a glance to the couch he’d occupied the night prior. Despite her mouth going thin-lipped with disapproval, she nodded. Returning his attention to their guest, he continued. “Now what news is so vital that it could not wait until morning to be delivered?”
Bartleby reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a rather crumpled letter. “Nothing good, I trow,” he said, handing it over. “Mrs. Hayton bade me bring it to you at once. She said the chief constable himself brought it and told her it should be put directly into your hands as soon as possible. Said he would have brought it here, himself, but he had other pressing business to which he must attend.”
Will broke the seal and scanned the hastily written lines. When he at last looked up, it was to see three anxious pairs of eyes staring back at him. “It is with deep regret that I must inform you of Constable Birdsley’s death.”
He waited until the ladies’ horrified gasps died away before continuing. “As promised, Deering sent two men to his house this morning, but they failed to find him. The last time his neighbors saw him was when he left to break his fast yesterday at The Rose and Thistle as was his custom. He never came home. Then, this evening someone from the neighboring district reported finding a body matching his description. As Birdsley had no kin, Deering himself went to identify him.”
A white-faced Mrs. Sloane turned her head away and muffled a sob.
Will watched as Jacqueline, whose cheeks were also devoid of color, wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Does it say how he died?” she asked.
Reluctantly, he answered, “He was garroted.”
He’d thought it impossible for her to grow any paler, but she did. “Mon Dieu, that they would kill a good man simply to take his place for a day is…”
