Page 52 of The Highland Heist
A sudden crash sounded from down the hallway followed by a piercing scream. Johnson started toward the sound with Frederick on his heels. Good heavens, what now?
They met Mrs. James stumbling into the hall from the direction of the kitchen. Her face was ashen, and her hands trembled as she clutched at the doorframe.
“It’s—it’s Cook!” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Something’s happened—she’s on the floor, not moving.”
“What?” Lillias appeared at the top of the stairs as they passed, her face pale. “I heard a crash!”
“Someone broke into the house.” Mrs. James wiped at the tears on her face and waved them to follow her. “Cook is on the floor. I don’t know if she’s hurt, but she’s not moving. You must help.”
Chapter 13
After watching Frederick take off on such an adventurous run, Grace had hoped they’d have a moment to discuss their respective discoveries—his from the gambling house and hers from Mr. Barclay. But Mrs. James’ declaration had flung everyone into a whirlwind of action, leaving no room for such luxuries as conversation.
Detective Johnson charged in the direction Mrs. James pointed, Frederick close on his heels, with Officer Todd trailing behind. Grace tightened her grip on Zahra’s hand and cast a glance at Lillias as her sister descended the stairs. Poor Lillias looked as if she might very well be the next to collapse.
“What—what is happening to my family?” Lillias’ voice trembled, her usual composure shattered.
For the first time since Grace’s arrival, the real vulnerability of the situation showed on her sister’s face. The lostness. And in that single moment, Graceknew.Lillias had nothing to do with any of it—not Tony’s death, not the inheritance chaos, none of it.
But then why Tony and Lillias? Why now? And what on earth did this attack on poor Mrs. Lindsay—the cook, for heaven’s sake—have to do with anything?
The same maddening thought kept circling in her mind.The inheritance?
But how did Tony factor into something that was Lillias’ by right?
“I don’t know, Lillias, but we’re going to sort it out together.”
To her surprise, Lillias didn’t summon her usual derisive look. Instead, her expression softened, almost as if relief had found its way through the cracks of her fear.
“You stay here in the parlor and rest. I’ll be back soon.” Grace squeezed her sister’s hand before hurrying after the others, Zahra’s small hand still firmly in her own.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she needed to keep hold of Zahra, but the whirlwind of Frederick’s chase after the false Clark and the sudden attack on the cook left her uneasy.
And though Zahra had an excellent start at sleuthing, the little girl was still only about ten, and an introduction into any family shouldn’t be this chaotic. Should it? Her thoughts spun back to her very unexpected introduction to Frederick’s family upon marriage and she reevaluated her earlier idea. Perhaps dangers and mysteries were just a part of family introductions.
The kitchen greeted her with chaos: Detective Johnson and Frederick knelt beside Mrs. Lindsay, who lay sprawled on the tiled floor, bonnet askew, her face a ghostly white. Todd hovered by the open back door.
The breeze sent the curtains fluttering like restless ghosts.
A thrill traveled up Grace’s arms at the very thought.
Ghosts seemed to be a part of family introductions too. At least where she was concerned.
Frederick knelt beside the cook, pressing two fingers to her neck. “She’s alive,” he said, relief evident in his voice.
“Alive?” The words burst from Mrs. James. Her eyes blinked wide and her shoulders slumped with a sigh. “Oh, thank heavens!”
“There’s blood on the back of her head though,” Johnson noted grimly, his sharp eyes turning to Mrs. James. “What happened? Did you see anyone?”
Mrs. James shook her head, her hands twisting in her apron. “No, sir. I was just coming back from the parlor after setting out the tea things when I heard the crash. Mrs. Lindsay has been known to take issue with the stove from time to time, so I thought nothing of it—until I came in and saw …” Her voice faltered, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “It was awful.”
Grace looked down at the scene, trying to think despite Mrs. James’ distractingly dramatic sobs. Grace was beginning to realize all the more how very few women are prepared for such scenes as unconscious cooks after a break-in and mysterious possible-murderers in one’s back garden. However, Mrs. Lindsay could cook, which was much more than Grace could do. And Mrs. James could carry a tea tray without shaking it so much it threatened the teacups.
So why wouldn’t it make sense that some women took dangerous situations with much more clarity than others. Goddidlike variety.
And life was dangerous.
And people desperately needed good cooks and excellent tea.
