Page 13 of One Last Smile

Eliza seems equally surprised. She even nods approvingly and says, “Well, if you’re that insistent, I suppose I must make some. I wouldn’t want to disappoint a big, strong man like you.”

Her words taunt, but her tone, again, is approving. Lucas offers the ghost of a smile and turns to me. “I’m still working on that photo collage. If it’s all right with you, I’ll do that for the afternoon so I can concentrate. You’re welcome anywhere on the grounds if you’d care to do some more exploring.”

“Why thank you, Lord Carlton,” Eliza teases.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to his camera. She laughs and says, “But he’s right. Feel free to go anywhere. The estate is yours.”

I wonder for a moment why the other servants don’t have this same freedom. Or perhaps they do, and they simply use it to stay away from the family as much as possible.

In any case, that is the least of my questions. My hips and knees ache, and my ankles are sore from the morning’s excursions, but I think I will take the afternoon to explore. My mind is restless, and if I don’t work that restlessness out now, I’ll spend the evening wandering the house again. I’d just as soon not run into any more paintings of my sister.

Superstition aside, I would like to rest tonight, so after lunch, I bid farewell to the two Carlton children and set off to explore the grounds. I’ve seen much of the east garden, the arboretum, and the north woods, so I head west, across the rolling hills toward the meadows beyond. The ground here isn’t as manicured as the other gardens, but the grass is still uniform, and the flowers are contained to planters or orderly rows along either side of the several footpaths that wind through the hills and meadows.

Niall could not have done all of this himself. The estate is six hundred thirty-two acres, nearly a full square mile of landscaping. It would take a whole team of people to handle this. I don’t know why that stands out to me, but it does.

“You’re the governess.”

The thick, coarse voice startles me so badly that I leap into the air and shriek. I spin around and find myself facing a man of perhaps forty with tanned, leathery skin and narrow, deep-set eyes. His form is thin, almost scrawny, but his hands are large and strong.

He looks at me with an expression that reminds me far too much of the one he cast on Minerva Montclair. “Name’s Niall Weaver,” he says. “I’m the gardener.”

I stare at him in shock for a moment longer, then find my voice. “Y—yes. I’m the governess. Mary Wilcox. Are you in the habit of sneaking up on women unawares?”

He laughs—a harsh, cackling sound—and a chill runs down my spine. I am all at once very aware of the fact that I’m alone.

“I don’t sneak up,” he says. “It’s just that most people don’t pay attention.”

He fixes me with a grin that is not quite a sneer and not quite a leer. I decide it’s better for me not to remain alone with him. I want to find out who killed Minerva, but I don’t want to end up another victim in the process.

“Well, I’ll spare you my lack of attention,” I say. “Good day, Mr. Weaver.”

“Ain’t no need to be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m not as harmful as I look.”

I offer a smile I don’t feel. “I’m happy to hear that.”

I head away from him, but a moment later, I hear his footsteps behind me. I turn quickly and see him walking with me, just far enough apart that I don’t feel the need to shriek and sprint away.

“That’s a dark home,” he says unprompted. “With a dark family. It’s funny how the prettiest creatures are so often the deadliest.”

“Do you have a fascination with pretty creatures, Mr. Weaver?”

“Call me Niall. And everyone likes pretty things, Miss Mary. Not that anyone cares what I like. People only talk to me when they don’t want to hear something back. That’s the nature of being a servant. You’re not quite considered a person, but you look like one. If you’re quiet enough, you can hear things you wouldn’t believe. Secrets people wouldn’t tell their own mothers.”

I think back to Eliza’s and Lucas’s and even Veronica’s confidences. At the time, I was shocked that they would talk about these things with me, but I just assumed they’re desperate for anyone to talk to. I don’t consider that part of it might be the fact that I am, when it comes to it, unimportant in the grand scheme of their lives.

But what Niall says makes sense.

I am well aware that I could be talking to a murderer, but the chance to discover information that might lend insight to this family is too much to pass up. And perhaps I can get him to admit something that will either prove his involvement or clear his name.

“What secrets have you heard?”

He laughs and grins at me again. “So you’re interested in secrets? Ha-ha. It’s always the proper ones that want the gossip.”

My cheeks start to burn, and I say, “If you’re only following me to taunt me, then I bid you good day.”

“Not at all,” he says. “But I ain’t gonna tell you everything I know. It’s for your own safety, you understand. People like the Carltons wield power that common folk like you and I can’t begin to grasp. Best to stay in the good graces of people like that.”

“And are you in their good graces?”

---