“What pretty manners,” Celeste commented. “I’ve seen children who are less well behaved.”
“Thank you. They are a smart pair, and do me credit.” The hound master smiled broadly at the compliment.
“May I pet them?” Celeste asked.
“Of course. These little ones are not guard dogs on duty. They will be in and out of the castle rooms, so they need to be friendly toward people.”
Celeste crouched down, her skirts billowing about her. She presented the back of her hand to each little dog in turn, then scratched each one behind the ears.
“You do very well with them, Miss…?” Mr. McOwen let the unspoken question hang in the air.
“Miss Celeste Singer,” filled in Miss Sedgewick. “She is the Duchess’s new abigail. Miss Singer, this is Mr. McOwen, the hound master.”
“And she’s come upstairs to help you see to the linens,” Mr. McOwen observed. “Well, well, wonders never cease. It was no surprise that Betty, that is Miss McGuire, would lend a hand, but most ladies’ maids won’t touch the domestic chores.”
“It helps to pass the time,” Celeste put in. “Her Grace is rarely up before noon, and spends most of the afternoons riding. The hours pass with surpassing slowness with nothing to do.”
“Carry on then, carry on.” Mr. McOwen waved a hand. “Let me know if you’ve need of us.” He went on downstairs, carrying his wiggling burden, the two red and white dogs following closely at his left heel.
Miss Sedgewick led the way up to the big linen presses above the guest hall. It wasn’t quite as pleasant as Celeste had hoped. The sun had warmed the stones on that side of the castle, and the hallway was more than a little stuffy.
To alleviate the gloom and the stale air, Miss Sedgewick threw wide the drapes on the big windows at the end of the hall, and opened the sashes and shutters. The windows looked out over a sheer drop that went straight down to Gwyndon River. An arched bridge to the right of the window connected the cobbled lane that led from the stables to the riding trail that wound up the mountain.
A pleasant breeze blew down off the mountains, bringing the scents of spring ripening into early summer. It also picked up the film of dust on the floor and wainscoting, making Celeste sneeze.
“I must get Betty and some of the other maids up here right away to clean the floor,” Miss Sedgewick said. “This will never do. You go ahead and start shaking out linens.”
Celeste set to work pulling the summer sheets down off the upper shelves, shaking them out and placing them in a big laundry basket. Even though they had obviously been put away carefully in the cabinets that were lined with red juniper wood, there were signs that mice had made their way into the cupboard over the winter.
Celeste began sorting the sheets that were whole from the ones that had little mouse nibbles in them. As she did so, she shook the sheets out the window, scattering the dried bits of herb, mouse droppings and the occasional mouse carcass out into the moat below.
As she shook one particularly ravaged sheet out the window, she glanced at the trail on the opposite side of the river just in time to see a woman dismount and pull her horse behind a willow tree near the sluice that diverted the water that filled the moat. From the window, the woman seemed to be doll sized, but Celeste could see that she wore a blue riding habit and that she had a modish hat with a white ostrich plume perched atop bright auburn hair. What was the Duchess doing?
Celeste stood still for a moment, gazing out the window. As she watched, a man rode up and pulled his horse behind the same willow tree. Was it the Duke? Celeste didn’t know what kind of horse the Duke was riding, but it didn’t really look like him. Perhaps it was the Duchess’s groom.
In all events, it was none of her affair. The Duchess was a grown woman and if she chose to have an assignation behind a willow tree, then that was her choice.If I were married to such a gentleman as the Duke, I would not be meeting a man behind a willow! I would be at home helping my husband take care of our holdings.Celeste gave the sheet another shake, giving it a good snap by way of relieving her feelings. The Duchess had no more sense than a spring chick. Let her live in one of the crofts or a shanty for a season, and no doubt it would introduce a little practical commonsense into the head under the ostrich feather.
Then Celeste bundled the sheet into her arms. What if something happened to the Duchess?It would be so simple just to ignore what was clearly a lover’s tryst. But with a murderer about, turning a blind eye might make me complicit in anything that happened. The Duke might even be blamed. If I simply let it go, I will have to live with the consequences of any subsequent events.Grumbling a little under her breath with annoyance, Celeste went in search of Miss Sedgewick.
She found her in the kitchen talking with a wizened old man. “There you are, Miss Singer. I was just about to send for you. This is Gran’ther Tim, the head gardener. He is come up from the gardens to show you about the flowers for the house.”
“Thank you, Miss Sedgewick,” Celeste said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tim.
“Gran’ther Tim,” the old man said, bright blue eyes twinkling at her from under shaggy white eyebrows. “That’s Gran’ther Tim, an’ I’ve earned it fair with the years and bairns that can rightly call me so.”
“I’m very glad to meet you,” Celeste said. “But before we begin, could you excuse me for just a minute to speak with Miss Sedgewick? I had come down to speak with her about a puzzling matter.”
A frown crossed the housekeeper’s face, but she drew Celeste into one of the small pantries. “Be quick,” she said. “If you want to get aught done with the flowers, you’ll have to be at it soon.”
“This will only take a minute,” Celeste said apologetically. “It might be nothing at all. But I saw the Duchess slip behind the big willow on the far side of the moat. Then a few minutes later, I saw a man ride up and slip behind the same tree. Ordinarily, I would say nothing, but since that poor maid was found dead just yesterday, I thought it best to report what I saw.”
“Are you sure it was not her groom?”
Celeste shook her head. “I’m not certain. In all events, he wasn’t wearing livery. In fact, he seemed to be very well dressed and sat his horse like a gentleman. Perhaps it could even have been the Duke, but I don’t think it so.”
“I see,” Miss Sedgewick ran one finger across a pantry shelf, and inspected it for dust. “Thank you for telling me, Miss Singer. Say nothing to the other staff. I will pass the word along to those who need to know. Now, you must hurry away, lest you run out of time before she returns.”
Chapter 7
