A Stab in the Dark by Karen Chester

Author:Karen Chester [Chester, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Karen Chester
Published: 2020-06-18T22:00:00+00:00

10. Uncle George

THE SENSE OF FOREBODING dogged Araminta for the rest of the day even as she kept herself busy. Her extended sojourn in Italy meant her garden had been neglected, as she had only organised a monthly maintenance during her absence. She spent the afternoon weeding, mulching, and trimming, and the evening reorganising her pantry. She thought about calling in at Good Nosh and apologising to Garrick for her curtness earlier, but couldn’t face talking to anyone. It was times like this that she missed Ian the most.

At dusk she filled a shallow bowl with water and left it near the shed for Prickles, but her spiky friend failed to show up that evening. Eventually, worn out by her exertions, she went to bed.

The next morning, she had just finished a breakfast of tea and toast when there was a knock on her front door.

“Uncle George!” she exclaimed when she saw Lord Winthrop standing on the porch. Her surprise was understandable. Neither he nor Lady Winthrop were in the habit of ‘dropping in’ for a visit. In fact, she couldn’t remember her uncle coming to her cottage more than a handful of times, and never without prior notice. Now, seeing his drawn expression, the dread that she’d sought to suppress resurfaced with a vengeance. “Please, come in.”

But Lord Winthrop shook his head. “I’d rather you came with me.” A muscle above his left eyebrow twitched.

Swallowing her misgivings, Araminta plucked a red cotton jacket from the stand near the front door and followed her uncle to his battered, mud-splashed Land Rover. He drove in silence, his craggy brow furrowed, his left eyebrow still palpitating. Araminta didn’t try to make small talk or ask where they were going. Her uncle had something to say to her; he would do so in his own way.

They made their way out of Cranley, and eventually turned in at the gates to Missenden Hall. Why hadn’t he called her and asked her to come over? But she kept her silence.

“Your aunt had some errands to run,” Lord Winthrop said by way of explanation as he parked the Land Rover.

He led her into the Hall and proceeded up the grand staircase. Araminta followed him without comment. Upon reaching the first floor, Lord Winthrop continued down the corridor to a small, inconspicuous door that led to the servants’ staircase. These stairs ran from the downstairs domestic offices all the way up to the attics. Countless maids and footmen had trudged up and down its steep and narrow treads, carting water, coal, chamber pots, and everything else its inhabitants needed. With those days long gone, the staircase was quiet and cold, while a musty odour lingered in the air.

Lord Winthrop began to trudge up the stairs with Araminta in his wake, and soon he was huffing and puffing from his exertions.

Ordinarily, Araminta would have implored him to slow down or take a break, but, sensing his mood, she held back from giving advice which he’d only ignore. As they ascended, the stairs grew narrower and steeper and creakier.

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