Page 3 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“You misunderstand. I don’t think he attacks anyone. He simply tries to charm them out of their petticoats. He doesn’t persist if he fails, but I think he has more successes than failures. A lot more. Then he tires of them and moves on, leaving behind a string of broken hearts. Some of them leave because of it.”
“The maids and nannies resign from perfectly good positions because they’re heartbroken?”
“Or maybe asked to resign because they’re moping about and not doing their work properly.”
This time when Harmony made a circling motion with her finger, I turned around. She proceeded to undo the buttons of my dress.
“Nannies are under the direct jurisdiction of the lady of the house, not the housekeeper,” I said, half to myself. “So in their case, at least, they must be leaving of their own accord, because Lady Kershaw made it sound as though she wasn’t dismissing them.”
Harmony agreed but had more to say about the gamekeeper’s continued employment. “His lordship should tell him to play away from the house, if he’s not prepared to dismiss him.”
“I suspect Lord Kershaw doesn’t want to broach the topic. He’s too nice.”
I saw Harmony’s lips pinch in the reflection of the dressing table mirror and decided to change the subject.
After a hearty dinnerat which I overindulged in both pheasant and wine, I skipped breakfast altogether the following morning. Lady Kershaw had planned a game of tennis, but having never played, I preferred an activity in which I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. Flossy had also complained that she wasn’t very good at it, so I went in search of her after the breakfast hour to see if she wanted to go for a walk with me.
She wasn’t in her room, but Harmony was, and informed me that Flossy had gone riding with Janet Browning.
I headed along the corridor that housed several guest bedrooms and small chambers, admiring the ornate plastered ceilings, rich carpets and heavily carved furniture. Hambledon Hall’s opulence wasn’t limited to the more public spaces of the dining room and reception rooms. Even the corridor on the guest wing had a beautifully plastered ceiling of leaves and plump pomegranates running its entire length. I came across a staircase I’d never seen before. It wasn’t as grand as the double staircase in the entrance hall—which swept up two stories, highlighting a vaulted ceiling painted with an ecclesiastical scene resembling the works of Italian masters—but it was elegant nevertheless. The newel posts crowned with finials shaped like gargoyles were superbly Gothic.
My wanderings led me into another corridor I’d never seen, past closed doors. I realized I was quite lost. I paused, unable to decide whether I should try to retrace my steps or keep going, when I heard a sound coming from the only room with the door open. A maid must be inside. I’d ask her for directions.
I pushed the door open wider. “Excuse me, can you help—” I stopped abruptly when I saw it wasn’t a maid at all. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
A man dressed in the clothes of an outdoor servant stood with an open book in hand beside a low bookshelf. The room was large, but so were most of the rooms in Hambledon Hall. The walls were covered with dark wood panels from the carpet to waist height, and paintings in gilt frames depicted bucolic country scenes. The wide mahogany desk near the window gave me the biggest clue that this was Lord Kershaw’s study.
The man closed the book with a soft thud and slotted it back onto the shelf. “I was just waiting to have a word with his lordship, Miss.”
I hadn’t asked, but I supposed he felt the need to explain his presence in the study when his lordship wasn’t there. While I couldn’t be entirely certain, I was reasonably sure he was the same man Lord Kershaw and Mr. and Mrs. Browning had watched striding across the lawn the day before. Aged in his mid-forties, he had a strong build and square jaw. The flecks of gray in his thick dark hair added a dashing allure. I suspected this was the gamekeeper Harmony had told me was causing the female staff to lose their hearts.
“Miss Fox,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”
“Shepherd.” He smiled, his countenance friendly, albeit a little too warm considering we’d just met. “I’ve seen you around. Forgive me, but I was hoping we’d meet.” He stepped closer.
I stepped back. His smile suddenly became slicker. I was even more sure he was the gamekeeper now, given his reputation. Why was he in Lord Kershaw’s study? “I saw Lord Kershaw downstairs. Do you want me to tell him you’re waiting here for him?”
He stepped closer again, and I stepped back once more. I bumped into the doorframe, having misjudged my position relative to the doorway. Mr. Shepherd’s gaze heated. He stepped forward a third time, drawing very close. I pressed my spine into the doorframe and leveled my gaze with his.
His smile turned to a smirk as he brushed past me. “Seems he’s forgotten our appointment. No matter. I’ll talk to him later.”
He strode off along the corridor. As I walked in the opposite direction, I tried to imagine myself in the position of a housemaid. Would I find Mr. Shepherd alluring enough to risk my position? I doubted it. Then again, no man compared to Harry Armitage. I could certainly no longer deny I had feelings for him, but that didn’t mean I would do something about them. I was still determined not to marry anyone, even him.
Yet sometimes, in my more melancholy moments, I wondered what my life would be like without him in it.
It was these thoughts that occupied my mind as I left the house. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice the carriage pulling away until I heard the crunch of gravel beneath its wheels. Lord Kershaw’s jowly profile was clearly visible through the window. It would seem his lordship had indeed forgotten he was supposed to meet Mr. Shepherd in his study.
The walk through the woods was invigorating, and I enjoyed being alone in the fresh air with only my thoughts for company. It was easy to forget how vivid nature could be when living in London. The grass was a vibrant shade of green, and the earthiness filled my lungs. Wind rustled the leaves far above my head, and birds twittered musically, until the sound of two men arguing sent them fluttering away.
I headed toward the men, visible through the trees. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was clear they weren’t getting along. I recognized the gamekeeper, Mr. Shepherd, but the other man had his back to me. With a gray cap covering his hair, I couldn’t even tell if he was one of the gentlemen from our party.
Mr. Shepherd suddenly laughed at something the other fellow said. It was a cruel laugh, not at all as if he were sharing a joke. The other man responded by punching the gamekeeper in the stomach.
Mr. Shepherd bent over, clutching his middle, and the other fellow strode off, heading away from me.
I decided to leave, too. Mr. Shepherd seemed winded but otherwise unharmed.
Despite my intention to leave well enough alone, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t head away from the clearing where I’d spotted the two men arguing. I circled it, hoping my path would join up with the path the other man had taken. Despite going in what I thought was the right direction, I found myself back where I started. The clearing was now empty, however.
