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“I would like to know why you have been lying to me.” Ophelia stepped forward, her fervour making the step sharp. “What happened to the flowers the duke sent to the house on the day you first arrived here?”
“I… oh…” Miss Barge hurried to find words. Her hands balled in the skirt of her dress, wringing the material.
“Can you offer an explanation for them?” Ophelia pressed, her voice still tart. Miss Barge said nothing, hanging her head forward. “Do you deny these flowers were delivered?”
Miss Barge shook her head, not denying it.
“Well, I suppose I should be glad you are at least capable of some honesty.” Ophelia turned away and began to walk away, increasing the distance between them. “How about the lies told to create a discord between my husband and me? Do you deny that you told him I did not wish to go on our planned picnic?”
“I do not recall, Your Grace.”
“Youdorecall.” Ophelia was not fooled for a moment. She faced the maid, her movements jerky, watching as the maid’s eyes became red and she hung her head forward further. “It was three weeks ago. You told him I did not wish to go and then you told me he was the one who had lost interest in the arrangement.”
Miss Barge said nothing but began to cry.
“This is madness, Miss Barge.” Ophelia stepped towards her again. “I know you told these lies, and I wish to know why. Please, tell me that. I deserve to know why you have created such unhappiness in this house for so long.”
Miss Bridge lifted her face, revealing eyes that were were full of tears. Rather than answering Ophelia, however, she ran from the room.
“Miss Barge!” Ophelia called after her, but it did not bring the maid back. “Miss Barge?” she continued to call, walking out of the room.
She caught sight of the maid’s gown flicking through the door that led below stairs, just as the door opened opposite her, and Elliot poked his head out of the sitting room.
“Shall I wager that went well or not?” His question prompted Ophelia to shake her head at his mischief.
“She said nothing at all. Though she doesn’t deny what she has done.” Her words made him frown.
“I do not understand what is going on.”
“Neither do I, but I intend to find out.” Ophelia crossed to the door and opened it wide, but before she could step through, Mrs Mouser was there, carrying the tea tray.
“There you are, Your Grace. Will you be joining us for tea?”
“Erm, yes, thank you.” Ophelia stepped back from the door. She certainly didn’t want the loud conversation she would no doubt have with Miss Barge to travel through the house on the whispering and gossiping tongues of the staff. She backed up and returned to the sitting room, taking Elliot’s hand to whisper to him. “I’ll find her again later. She might have dried her tears by then.”
Elliot accepted it with a nod, though he looked as discomforted as she felt.
Over tea, Ophelia and Elliot told Grace of their time in Wiltshire. She seemed perturbed at times, asking her brother why he had not taken Ophelia out to see more of the beautiful scenery in the local area. At these moments, Ophelia and Elliot shared secret looks across the settee, knowing they had busied themselves doing very different things.
“I’ll show her next time, Grace,” Elliot assured her as their tea came to a close.
“If you would excuse me, I will speak to Miss Barge again now.” Ophelia stood to her feet and left the room, leaving Grace to eagerly show Elliot a new piece she had learned on the piano.
As Ophelia crossed below stairs, she felt the tension from earlier that day returning to her body. She wished to know why Miss Barge had caused trouble for so long, and this time, she would not leave without an answer.
“Miss Barge?” She knocked gently on the door of the maid’s room. When there was no answer, she reached for the door handle and let herself inside. The bed was empty, as if it had been made well that morning, but it was not the only empty thing. The table beside the bed was bare. When Ophelia tried the bureau, she found that empty, too, as if all the clothes that should be stored there had been cleaned out.
Reaching for the cupboard built into the wall, Ophelia opened it wide to find the cupboard wasn’t so empty. There were no clothes or anything personal inside, but tucked into the bottom of the space was a bunch of flowers.
They were so dead that they were attracting flies and ants, with the once beautiful blooms now wilted and brown, and the green stems black. Ophelia covered her nose at the foul stench coming from the decaying bouquet and stepped back from the cupboard.
Slowly, she moved out of the room and headed for the kitchen. Mrs Mouser, Yates, and the other few members of staff they had hired looked to her in surprise.
“Your Grace, is there anything I can do for you?” Mrs Mouser asked.
“Have you seen Miss Barge? Her room is empty. She appears to have left.”
“Left?” Mrs Mouser repeated, her voice pitching high. She pushed the loose locks of her grey hair back from her face and hastened from the kitchen, heading all the way back to Miss Barge’s room.
