Page 62 of The Housekeeper's Secret

She had to admit, he was very professional. He even made it sound like he meant it.

After all these years, Kate thought that she was familiar with the Coldwell parkland, but everything looked different in the dark.

Earlier a harvest moon had hung low in the sky, its creamy light as bright as the lantern in the stable yard, but it had been muffled by cloud as it rose, and now there was nothing to be seen of it except a silvery marbling across the heavens. The way through the woods to the gamekeeper’s cottage seemed farther at night, but at last she made out the outline of the chimney, the glimmer of the white-painted porch, and her breath came a little more easily.

She’d spent the day trying to temper her anticipation, but what had happened earlier had tipped anticipation over into need: uncomfortable, urgent, impossible to ignore. When Miss Dunn had come to the housekeeper’s parlour as Kate was getting ready, it was all she could do to be civil. She was in no mood to encourage the woman’s clumsy attempts at conversation.

For a woman who’d barely spoken two words previously, Miss Dunn suddenly seemed very keen to talk, and had kept up a disjointed monologue as they went out to join the festivities. Kate had barely listened. She was aware of Miss Dunn darting odd, furtive glances at her as they walked, as if there was something she wanted to get off her chest. Whatever it was—if there was some issue with Lady Hyde’s new rooms or a grievance about household management—it could wait until tomorrow.

Tonight belonged to her and Jem.

There was a smell of leaf mould and damp stone by the squat little cottage. As she felt for the key, the back of her neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, but she shrugged it off and refused to give in to the urge to look behind her.

The door was warped and scraped loudly on the tiled floor as she pushed it open. Despite the effort they’d made to scrub and freshen the place, the air inside the low-ceilinged kitchen smelled mossy and stale. The doubt that had stalked her since she’d left the lights and music and dancing edged closer, curling its tendrils around her excitement. On stiff legs she went across to the sink and leaned over to tug the curtain (stitched by her own hand, from a piece of worn, mangled cloth) across the window. As she did, she caught a movement outside.

Relief coursed through her, warm and reviving, like brandy. She’d seen Eliza, taut with eagerness at the edge of the dance floor, and feared that it might be a long time before Jem could safely make his escape, so the scrape of the door made her heart soar and her stomach twist with anticipation. She turned towards it, her smile already spreading as a shadow slipped in.

‘Thank God you’re here.’

‘Oi! Oi—you!’

Jem heard the shout from behind him but kept walking with his head down. He had tried to avoid the places where the crowds were thickest and the lights brightest and skirted around the back of the tents, but the evening was taking on a nightmarish quality—like one of those dreams when you try to run and can’t move. The stable clock had struck nine as he’d left Miss Dunn at the back door. He was late already—he couldn’t spare the time to give someone a light or directions to the latrines.

‘Oi—wait!’

This time the voice was more insistent. In spite of himself, he looked round and saw a figure lurching towards him. In the dark, with the strings of lights behind casting a bright aura that left the man’s face shadowed, it took a moment to recognise him.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Mullins slurred.

June 30th

Kate, I think this is the last chance I’ll get to write. Today we have had kit inspection and this evening we have been visited by the chaplain and the general (both looking very smart and very clean, unlike us). The attack is set for tomorrow morning at half past seven. The general told us that we should be proud to play a part in the decisive battle of our time, one that could bring this war to its end. He assures us that the bombardment has obliterated enemy defences and our advance has every chance of being unchallenged. I hope to God he’s right.

We’ll be moving into position soon, so I don’t have long left. I still need to explain what happened that night, at the wedding dance. I tried to meet you—I was on my way to the gamekeeper’s cottage when I was stopped by a lad who had worked at Coldwell years before, who had been there when Jack was. I’d got his name from the tigers’ uniform in the footmen’s wardrobe and tracked him down to the brewery in Hatherford. He wouldn’t tell me anything at first, but he sought me out that night when he was steaming drunk. He was ready to talk then, and it all came spilling out.

I’d waited so long to find out what happened to Jack. I’d always blamed myself for letting him down, you see. I just wanted the truth, but I didn’t realise that getting it would mean letting you down too.

More than I could have imagined.

Chapter 21

‘Well, well… what have we here?’

Frederick Henderson’s shoes clicked on the stone flags as he walked slowly across to the table. He removed his hat, as if he were paying an ordinary social call. As if it wasn’t dark, and they weren’t alone in an empty cottage in the woods.

‘Mr Henderson… What are you doing here?’

Dread solidified in Kate’s throat, making her voice hoarse. As soon as the choked words were out, she regretted them, because she knew exactly what he was going to say in reply.

‘Funny. I was going to ask you the very same thing.’

‘I overheard people talking about this place… about whether it was empty. I didn’t… I didn’t like the sound of it. I thought I should come and make sure that the door was locked.’

The clouds must have parted enough for the moon to reappear because suddenly she could see his face and read the amusement there. He knew she was lying and was deciding how far to play along with her.

‘As always, Mrs Furniss, your dedication to duty is… exemplary.’ He trailed a finger over the scarred surface of the table. ‘If a little unwise. You should have sent someone else to check, or at least to accompany you. And brought a lantern. A place like this—dark and isolated—isn’t safe for a respectable woman alone at night, when any of the local drunks might be wandering about. What were you thinking?’

At some point his tone had changed, losing its silky, cajoling note and turning flinty. Her whole body felt hot and light, like a paper lantern. Fear glowed inside her. For a second everything was still and suspended, and the air seemed to quiver with malice. She was still standing by the low stone sink, but she swivelled her eyes to the door, mentally calculating the distance.

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