Page 5 of The Haunting of Rose Abbey
“Hello, Meg.” Waving her away from the desk, Edwina instead directed Meg to set down the tray on a low table next to an overstuffed settee. “Please place the tray there. It looks quite heavy.” Laden with tea and a vast assortment of sandwiches and pastries, the tray tilted as the maid struggled to place it on the table. Edwina’s stomach grumbled. She hadn’t thought Mrs. Page would be so generous based on their initial introduction. “My goodness, I must appear to be incredibly hungry.”
Meg took a shaky breath as she set down the tray, looking once more at the portrait of Lady Renalda. “Yes, Miss Collins.” She bobbed. “Mrs. Page said Lord Bascomb may join you so Cook made sure to include extra. No watercress or cucumber. His Lordship don’t like a tea tray that ain’t hearty.”
So there wasalsoa cook at Rose Abbey. Plus Mrs. Page and Meg. And a footman or possibly a butler. The housekeeper didn’t look strong enough to carry Edwina’s trunk upstairs herself.
“Hearty?” Edwina smiled at the maid, who was obviously uncomfortable at being in the library.
“There’s roast beef and ham.” Meg nodded at the tray. “Roast beef is His Lordship’s favorite.”
“I’ll be sure to concentrate on the ham,” Edwina assured the maid.
Meg gave her a weak smile and exited the library by backing out, her eyes never leaving the portrait of Lady Renalda, as if the abbess would jump out of the portrait and grab her.
Once she was alone again, Edwina’s gaze went to the other side of the library, where the second thump had come from. She strolled along the wall of bookcases, taking note of the sheer volume of tomes and their dusty condition. If there was something out of place, Edwina couldn’t tell.
I’m being ridiculous.
Her stomach rumbled again, so Edwina went back to the tray and poured herself a steaming cup of tea. She filled a plate, taking care to include roast beef purely because it was sure to irritate Bascomb, and sat at the desk. Edwina sipped at her tea, ate two sandwiches, and felt better immediately. She’d only been hungry. Tired. A cup of tea and something in her stomach made a world of difference.
Thus fortified, Edwina turned her attention once more to the stack of papers Bascomb had tasked her with organizing. A bill from the butcher in Portsmith. One for coal. Several recommendations on how best to remove a nest of rodents from the attic. One pointed observation on how to repair a leaking portion of the roof in the west wing.
That leak was undoubtedly dripping water at this moment. The storm outside showed no sign of abating and seemed worse than when Edwina had first arrived.
Organization must come first. She sorted the stack of papers into neat piles on the desk. A small portion were letters from Bascomb’s acquaintances in London. One correspondence was from a farmer in Scotland who wanted to sell Bascomb some sheep. But there weren’t any invitations for dinner or other social events. Given Rose Abbey’s isolation, it was doubtful Bascomb had much of a social life. Anything having to do with maintaining the household—foodstuffs, supplies, and the like—Edwina put to the left. Correspondence of a more personal nature, she put in the middle. Related repairs to the abbey were put to the right and constituted the largest stack. Apparently, Rose Abbey had been left in poor condition until Bascomb had inherited it a little over a year ago. Nodding to herself, Edwina took in the neat piles, trying to decide where to begin. She dearly wished Fielding had left notes.
Perhaps he had.
Edwina opened the drawer of the desk and poked around. More string. Two buttons from a man’s waistcoat, possibly Fielding’s. A brass paperweight, which she immediately put to good use. Finally, her fingers closed over a small, leather-bound book.
Fieldinghadleft notes. As had Worthington. Larkspur. And someone with the unfortunate name of Merrywimple. She leafed through the pages, noting the different handwriting and collections of dates. Notes had been made on finding stonemasons, roofers, and the like. And a priest.
A priest?
There was no indication from Merrywimple, who had made the notation, as to whether he’d found a priest or why he’d been looking for one.
Glancing out at the spikes of gravestones, barely visible in the rain and what little light remained of the day, Edwina could see some were very close to the edge of the cliff. Perhaps Merrywimple had been arranging for those graves to be moved and wanted a priest involved for religious reasons? She ran her finger down the remainder of his notes. Merrywimple had been the first of Bascomb’s secretaries, lasting a total of two months before resigning.
Two months.
What would have made Merrywimple leave his position after such a short time? The isolation? Flipping through the pages, Edwina found Fielding’s notes. His observations ran along mostly the same lines as the others Bascomb had employed. But Fielding had fled after only a few weeks. One notation jumped out at her.
Have portrait of Lady Renalda relocated to another part of Rose Abbey. I can’t stand for her to look at me a moment longer.
Edwina glanced up from the desk to the abbess. Lady Renaldawasmildly terrifying for a dead woman. And given the way she had perished and the rumors surrounding the abbey, Edwina could well understand why Fielding wouldn’t want to share the library with her. Edwina doubted she was the only new arrival to Rose Abbey who had had to endure McDeaver’s gruesome tales. But Lady Renalda’s stern gaze still looked out over the library. Fielding hadn’t won that argument with Bascomb.
The next entry was very curious indeed.
Ask Lord B about door in library.
Edwina’s gaze settled on the two double doors leading into the room. There was nothing unusual. Carved wood. Brass knobs. The hinges didn’t even squeak. Nothing appeared to be in need of repair. She frowned and turned back to the notes Fielding had made.
“Well, Collins. I see you aren’t cowering in your room yet.”
Edwina snapped shut Fielding’s notes and shoved the small book back in the desk. “Not as of yet, my lord.” She faced him. “But it is still early. There’s time.”
Bascomb gave her a stern look and walked into the library, immediately making the entire room smaller. His larger form dominated the space, filling the library with the scents of bergamot and something clean and undeniably masculine. Edwina hadn’t been wrong. Bascomb was quite tall. Big. Like a massive, gnarled oak tree. The leather breeches he wore stretched taut across his thighs, showing Edwina the carved lines of muscle beneath. The long lengths of leg ended in immense, booted feet, which trod heavily in her direction.
Awareness trailed up Edwina’s spine. Bascomb’s effect on her hadn’t dimmed in the least since their initial meeting. The chill was immediately banished from the library. If anything, Edwina felt overwarm.
