Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sophie heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the Crowley residence come into view over the tree tops in the distance. After a hurried morning spent continually assuring her aunt that it was perfectly acceptable for an engaged woman to attend without a chaperone, and alternatively ensuring that all of her luggage was packed and secured, Sophie was somewhat exhausted, to say the least.
Thankfully, she had not had to contend with her brother, who had left for Italy before she’d even awoken.
In the end, she had managed to convince Mabel she would be perfectly safe, and Mabel had eventually agreed that having Sophie’s maid Abigail accompany her was suitable, at least now that she was betrothed. And Devlin was going to be there—he was just arriving in a separate conveyance.
The carriage ride to Lord Crowley’s estate had mercifully been uneventful; her maid had slept for most of the journey, while Sophie was anticipating being able to stretch her legs and hopefully get some answers.
As the carriage pulled up at the front of the residence, she looked out of the window and took stock of the large manor house looming in front of her; she felt a slight chill of foreboding.
Peeking her head out of the carriage door now held open by one of the footmen, she breathed in the crisp country air, certain that this weekend would prove pivotal in getting some information to assist in discovering what had happened to Jane.
She stepped down onto the graveled path beneath and looked up as the doors to the main entrance opened and Lord and Lady Crowley came outside to greet her. She had to admit that she was somewhat curious as to what the Crowleys had planned for the weekend. Though the Crowleys were eminently respectable throughout Society, as Devlin had informed her, their house parties had a somewhat notorious reputation for scandalous entertainment.
In a way, she was glad that Devlin would be there to offer his protection, even though he was still annoyed with her over her refusal to accompany him today in his carriage.
The man could not understand why they should bow to convention and travel in separate carriages when they were headed for the same place. But the speculation around their attending the house party together would be rife enough without them also arriving in the same carriage on a journey that took more than two hours. Not that she was all that bothered by gossip, but she did not think she was up to a lengthy carriage ride with him, particularly after what had occurred on the last occasion.
Fixing a smile on her face, she watched as Lord Crowley came up to her and took her hand in his own. The man was in his late thirties, with a thin moustache and black hair slicked back with a good deal too much oil. He reminded Sophie of a slippery eel—who clearly thought himself to be somewhat of a ladies’ man. True, he was what some might call handsome, but with the slimy smile he was now gracing her with, she thought he looked more like a snake than an Adonis.
“Lady Sophie,” Lord Crowley began, “my wife and I are so very pleased that you could grace us with your presence.”
He leaned in slightly closer to her. “Must say that when the Duke confirmed his attendance and asked that you be invited, too, I could not understand his request. But then when notice of your engagement appeared in the Times, it all became very clear.”
The man seemed to find his own wit quite amusing as he laughed aloud. “Do not you worry about anything, Lady Sophie. I have put you and the Duke in adjoining rooms.” He winked at her.
Sophie felt like wiping the smirk off the man’s face. Instead, she smiled politely. “That shall not be necessary. The Duke and I are not married yet.”
“Engaged is practically the same thing,” he replied. “Besides, it is all organized, for I know what a newly engaged couple attending a house party is about. But do not worry; Lady Crowley and I pride ourselves on our discretion, do we not, my love?”
“Of course, husband. What occurs at Crowley manor stays a closely guarded secret,” Lady Crowley replied as she appeared at her husband’s side. She stepped toward Sophie and quickly placed air kisses near her cheeks.
Lady Crowley herself was dressed in the very latest fashion, her pale blue gown sitting just off the shoulder, with lace dripping from her neckline. Though it appeared that her dressmaker had been somewhat miserly in the amount of material used to cover the lady’s décolletage. Sophie was certain that if Lady Crowley so much as sneezed, her assets would likely pop out.
“Lady Sophie,” the woman said, her eyes shrewdly assessing her. “Do let me congratulate you on your engagement. What a coup to catch a Duke. Who would have thought it would be possible at your age?”
Lady Crowley was not known for her kind comments. Sophie smiled broadly. “Amazing, is it not? I was getting quite desperate with my lack of husband status. It took you a while to find a husband, too, did it not, Lady Crowley?”
Lady Crowley’s own smile grew tight, and her eyes glittered, making her look a good deal older than someone in her late twenties, as she was reported to be. “Perhaps you had best be shown to your room. You are looking dreadfully tired and travel worn. I daresay it will take your maid the better part of an hour to pretty you up.”
Sophie’s smile only grew.
“Nonsense, Ruby,” Lord Crowley said. “Lady Sophie looks as lovely as ever, which one would expect from the Duke of Huntington’s fiancée. The man always did have magnificent taste in the ladies.” He glanced at his wife briefly. “He rebuffed your interest, though, did he not, dear, before we were married a few years back?”
Sophie had to stifle her laughter at the look of murderous rage the lady was now shooting her husband, plainly taking great exception to the remark.
“You are quite incorrect. For it was I who refused the Duke’s advances,” Lady Crowley remarked before spinning on her heel and stalking to the entrance.
Lord Crowley turned to Sophie and winked again at her. “My wife has never taken rejection at all well, and though it was somewhat crass of me to remind her of it, I could not help it, for she was being dreadfully rude to you. Pity I did not do as the Duke did. But never mind that. Come, let us get you out of the cold. Your maid can use the service entrance.”
Lord Crowley held out his arm, which Sophie reluctantly took, then led her toward the front entrance.
“My lord, I do have a few questions of some urgency that I was hoping you might be able to assist with,” she asked him.
“Is it about my maids?” he asked.
She stopped walking, feeling her face alight with shock. “How did you know?”
He sighed. “It is all anyone has been able to ask me about.”
Well, that was peculiar. Why would Jane’s disappearance be of concern to the gossiping guests? “I do not understand?”
“Two of them have gone and gotten themselves killed,” he said in a delicate tone, obviously trying not to upset her. “The news made its way into The Times this morning. It is all any of the guests have been able to speak of.”
Sophie felt a numbness infuse her body. “Please tell me you are jesting?” Surely, he couldn’t be talking about Jane?
He shook his head, morosely. “I wish I was. I have been having a terrible turn of luck with the servants. Only the other week, one turned up dead in the woods over that yonder hill, and now one has been murdered in London.”
Sophie gripped his arm, a horrible gnawing sensation beginning to dig into her chest. “What were their names?”
“The one in the woods was named Jane, apparently.” His forehead wrinkled up in thought. “Can’t say I remember her very well, for I must confess I pay little attention to the staff. I vaguely remember this one, though, as we all thought she’d run off, but it appears she wandered off into the woods weeks ago and met with some foul play.”
Oh God. No. Not Jane. For a moment, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Jane was dead? The girl she had helped to learn how to read and write, with the ready smile and a kind word for everyone she came into contact with. She’d deserved a warm and decent life, perhaps someday with a little home and a family of her own. Sophie felt like her heart would break. She’d been so proud of Jane the day she’d helped her fill her small steamer trunk and head on her way to her first position with Abelard.
“How did she die?” A part of her dreaded hearing. But she knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t find out.
“We’re not sure, but they say she was killed a few weeks before being found. We thought she had run off with a man, but it looks like she was murdered instead.” Crowley sighed as he threaded her hand through his elbow and started toward the large double doors once more. “Do you know what the most inconvenient thing about it all is?”
Inconvenient? Two innocent girls had met violent ends, and all the man could think of was his own convenience. She had to make a determined effort not to let her disgust show on her face.
“Now with this other silly maid Tina being murdered in London, the authorities are looking into this Jane girl’s death more closely.”
“And why would they be doing that?” she asked absently, mulling over the name he’d just revealed. Tina… Oh my! The Crowley maid who had come to visit her, talking of Jane! Both murdered, and in a similar manner. Of course they had to be connected. And the thought that she herself had ties to both of them gave her a chill. But she was careful not to reveal how shaken she was to Lord Crowley.
Crowley frowned slightly. “I do not wish to be too graphic for your delicate sensibilities, Lady Sophie, but supposedly both girls were tortured before being strangled to death, so now the authorities think both may have been killed by the same man. Which means they now want to interview me. Can you believe such a ridiculous thing? I have never heard the like.”
She swiped a tear from the corner of her eye with her free hand, determined to hold herself together. “Did you know that Jane was one of Grey Street’s orphans?”
Lord Crowley looked at her blankly for a moment before recognition flared in his eyes. “That is your little charity, is it not?”
“Yes it is.” She gazed past him toward where the woods lay in the distance. “What happened to Jane’s remains, Lord Crowley?” The dense trees twisted together as the wind whistled through their leaves, a heavy and darkly foreboding presence hanging over them. Sophie shivered. She couldn’t imagine the terror Jane must have felt in those woods.
“I believe she was buried in the village cemetery,” he answered. “At least, I think that is what the constable mentioned. I do not know for sure, though. As I said, I really pay little attention to my staff.”
“Perhaps you should start,” she chided him, hearing the note of bitterness creeping into her voice. “Considering two are now dead.”
Lord Crowley turned his watery, hooded gaze on her, looking slightly bored. “The servants are Lady Crowley’s department.”
“Did anyone think to notify her next of kin?”
“What next of kin? Did you not say she was an orphan?”
“She was, but that does not mean she has no next of kin. In this instance, Margaret O’Halloran, the headmistress of Grey Street, acted as Jane’s. She should have been notified. Both she and I have been very worried over her disappearance.”
“I am sorry, Lady Sophie,” Lord Crowley apologized, though it lacked any sincerity. “If I had known, I am sure I might have done something more.”
She could only manage to nod as a numbness stole across her body. “Perhaps Lady Crowley was right; I think I do need to freshen up, for I am suddenly feeling weary.”
The Earl squinted at her as they moved through the entrance to the enormous house. “Yes, I must say you are looking a tad pale at the moment. I hope I have not offended you with such gruesome details.”
“No, of course not, but the whole situation has come as a shock to me,” she replied as her small heels clicked on the marble floors. They approached a grand staircase with gleaming wood bannisters, which dominated the foyer.
“Yes, it is darned annoying, is it not?” Crowley said, bringing her to a halt directly in front of the stairs. “Cannot believe the authorities would have the insolence to question me over the affairs.”
His complaints were really grating on her nerves. How insignificant they were compared to what Jane and the other girl had suffered. “I am sure that you of all people would want answers, as they were your staff.”
He raised a fist to his mouth, stifling a yawn. “Not my fault they were stupid enough to get killed.”
Sophie deliberately released her hand from where it was resting on his forearm. “It is just such an attitude that makes me appalled to be a member of society.”
Lord Crowley held out his hands toward her, palms upward in a beseeching posture. “Come, Lady Sophie, I do not mean to offend. It is just the truth of the matter. No one cares what happens to a servant.”
“Your truth. Not mine,” she said. “For I care very much.”
His thin mouth flattened as he assessed her shrewdly. “I shall assume that you are overwrought from your journey and news of the maids’ deaths, Lady Sophie, and hence I shall take no offence at your words. My housekeeper will show you to your room.”
Sophie smiled without a hint of mirth. “And I shall assume that your attitude is born from ignorance and not just callousness.”
She stalked up the last few steps toward the grand staircase where the housekeeper was waiting. Glancing over her shoulder, she was satisfied at the look of complete affront gracing Lord Crowley’s face. It served the condescending, pompous fool right.
The only reason she did not turn around and leave immediately was she owed it to Jane to try to find out what had happened. And if that meant she had to put up with that slimy Lord Crowley, then that was what she would have to do.