Page 44 of Silence of Deceit
He relented with a nod. “Very well, Your Grace.”
Audrey took the lead and approached the home. The front steps were swept, and the glossy black paint upon the door held a high varnish. There would be no sending Carrigan first with her card to see if the lady was at home to receive her. It was imperative that Audrey catch Esther by surprise. Carrigan brought the brass knocker down upon the plate, and with the sensation of being tossed about in a heavy wind, not unlike when she knocked upon the door to Shadewell, she waited.
The introductory phrase she had spent hours reciting her in her head, vanished into thin air as the door opened and a short woman wearing a mob cap and a dubious expression greeted them.
“Mrs. Esther Starborough,” Audrey blurted out. “I am here to speak to her.”
Her face heated as she heard the unpolished demand and realized she had not even introduced herself.
“My name is Miss Audrey Smith. Mrs. Starborough and I knew each other long ago,” she quickly amended.
Still, the woman’s expression remained furrowed with shock.
“This is the Starborough residence?” Audrey asked after another moment of silence from the woman.
“Yes,” she finally answered. “But…begging your pardon, miss, did you say Mrs.EstherStarborough?”
Audrey nodded. “That’s right.”
The woman pressed her lips together with a look of concern but stepped aside. “Do come in, Miss Smith. If you will please just wait here.”
Audrey and Carrigan stepped into the narrow front lobby, and the woman, likely the maid, closed the door and then bustled up the stairs, out of sight.
“Something isn’t right, Your Grace,” Carrigan said, his low tenor cautious.
Audrey did not sense danger, but her driver was correct. The woman had seemed alarmed at the mention of Esther.
Muted voices upstairs traveled down to them, and Audrey strained to hear what was being said. Then, the maid reappeared on the steps. Descending behind her was a man. He was pulling his coat collar as if he’d just tossed it on. He walked with the assistance of a cane to aid a pronounced limp. Despite the limp and his brown hair, centered with a graying sweep near his high forehead, he appeared to be no more than forty. A pair of spectacles sat perched upon his thin nose, and his narrow face was clean-shaven. Both he and the maid wore expressions of confusion and something else. Not alarm, but apprehension.
“Good evening, Miss Smith,” he said. “I am John Starborough. My maid tells me you’ve come to visit…Esther?”
The pause at the end of his questionraised a suspicion.
“That is correct, Mr. Starborough. I knew Esther many years ago and thought to pay her a call,” she said.
“I am not sure how you were acquainted with her—”
“Is she not at home? Should I return at a better time?” she asked, hoping to deter any queries about where she and Esther had become acquainted. Any mention of Northumberland or Shadewell might cause him to turn her out.
“I am afraid, Miss Smith, that Esther is not…she is in fact no longer with us.” Mr. Starborough adjusted his spectacles, looking to the floor in order to give Audrey a moment to absorb the announcement.
She held her breath and fought the uncharitable sensation of frustration over meeting yet another closed door in hunting down the blackmailer. “Do you mean to say she has died?”
“That is correct, miss. I am sorry to bear such sorry news to you.” He lifted his brows, causing creases to stack along his forehead. “Forgive me, it has been some years since I’ve spoken of Esther or have needed to inform someone of her passing.”
Audrey frowned. “How long ago was this?”
The maid lowered her head and clasped her hands before her, and Mr. Starborough again touched his spectacles. He was uncomfortable. Nervous. Audrey watched him closely.
“Nearly five years ago now,” he answered.
The closed door she’d just run into seemed to creak open again. Nearly five years ago, Esther had been at Shadewell.
“How did she die?” Audrey asked. The question, bold and rude, drew looks of shock from both Mr. Starborough and his maid. “It is only that she was so young,” she added.
“Yes, quite,” he said, growing more agitated. He cleared his throat. Hitched his chin. Hugh had once said women hitch their chin when they are about to lie. Did that also apply to men?
“Esther passed during childbirth,” he answered flatly. “It was kind of you to pay a call but as you can now see—”
