Page 144 of A Winter By the Sea
She knocked again.
No answer.
Sarah hesitated, then brought out her key. It would not be the first time she had let herself into a guest’s room during his or her absence—usually to tidy up or collect the rubbish. But in this instance, she felt like a sneak as she unlocked the door.
Inside the room, she glanced around quickly, her pulse racing. The plate chest sat closed on the floor, as it had before, while Mr. During’s valise lay open on the dressing chest. She walked over and peeked in, finding it partly filled with rumpled shirts, stockings, and cravats. Was he already packing to leave?
On the bed, she saw a haphazard jumble of supplies: linen table napkins, ornamental serviette rings, silk flowers, blank name cards, and several pen-and-ink table diagrams showing where each serving dish and decoration would be set, and even the man’s trusty ruler for aligning plates and silver. The tools of his trade lay in an untidy heap, as though he had dumped out his large table-decker’s case onto the counterpane. She did not see the case itself, however. She bent to look under the bed. Nothing. The handled leather case was missing. Why?
Had he gone to set a table for a dinner at Fortfield Terrace? Possible, although if he had, would he not have taken his supplies?
Sarah turned toward the plate chest with a sickly premonition.From this angle, she saw that the padlock was lying on the floor beside the chest.Oh no.He must have forgotten to lock it.
Nerves jangling, she knelt before the plate chest—the precious chest that only Mr. During was allowed to open.
For a moment, she stilled, ears alert for the sound of approaching footsteps.
Only silence met her.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the latch hook and lifted it. The lid opened easily. She looked inside, instantly relieved not to find it empty. There lay the decorative gold box Mr. During had mentioned, along with a few medals and the tall silver candlesticks.
Realization prickled over her. There were only two here. She looked over her shoulder around the room but saw no sign of more. Where were the others? He had said there were four, and she had seen them on the banquet table during the duke’s evening party.
Footsteps sounded in the passage, and Sarah’s heart banged against her ribs. She quickly shut the lid and leapt to her feet as a knock shook the door.
She stood there, hand pressed to throbbing chest.
The door creaked open. ...
Her brain scrambled for words of explanation or excuse, but nothing materialized.
She was caught.
The door opened farther. Sarah took an unsteady breath and faced it, expecting Selwyn During.
Instead her sister appeared, eyes wide and expression anxious.
“Emily!” The name came out in a whoosh. “You scared me.”
“And you scared me. I saw the door ajar and heard someone shuffling about in here. What were you doing?”
“Spying, actually. I know I should not, but something isn’tright. Mr. During is preparing to leave, by the looks of it.” She gestured toward the open valise.
“Perhaps not terribly surprising now that his employer has died,” Emily replied. “Has he said anything to you about resigning?”
“No. But there’s more. See there—he has dumped out all his table-decking things. And worse, the plate chest was left unlocked. I looked inside. Unless I am mistaken, a pair of silver candlesticks is missing. There are only two inside.”
“Oh no. I hope we shan’t be blamed for the missing ones.”
“Ugh. I pray not.”
“Maybe he took them to Woolbrook,” Emily suggested. “They used them there the night of the party, remember?”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right. I should not leap to conclusions.”
Unbidden, she recalled what Mr. Cordey had told her. Mr. During had asked known smugglers how to sell something “quiet-like.” She prayed her suspicions were wrong.
They left the room together. Sarah paused to lock the door and followed Emily down the back stairs.
