Murder by Midnight by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-07T06:00:00+00:00

11

Just as I reached the top of the stairs, my mother came out of Lady Drummond’s room. Her face was red and splotched, her eyes swollen. When she saw me, she dabbed at her eyes and smiled.

“Oh, Alice. You didn’t need to come check on me.”

I decided not to tell her that hadn’t been my intention at all. “How are the Drummonds doing?”

“As well as can be expected,” she said. “I actually only came out to send for some tea. They haven’t had anything to eat or drink all morning.”

“You stay,” I said, turning back towards the stairs. “I’ll go down to the kitchen.”

“I would be happy to go to the kitchen for you,” said an unexpected voice.

I turned to see a red-haired maid standing in the middle of the hallway, her arms full of white sheets. “I just need to drop this in with the laundry first.”

Her voice was thick and raw, and I recognized her as the young maid from the kitchens, the one who had been so distraught. I tried to remember her name and thought I had heard her called Hester at some point.

“That would be wonderful,” my mother said.

“And maybe bring up something small to eat,” I said as the maid passed. “Some toast, perhaps.”

She looked up and nodded, her green eyes red-rimmed. “Of course, Miss Beckingham.”

“Thank you, Hester.”

When I said her name, she stiffened slightly, but then carried on down the stairs.

“Well, I suppose—” I started, taking a step towards my room.

“I’m sure Lord and Lady Drummond would like to see you,” Mama said.

“Oh, I’m not sure I’d be of much help,” I said. Though, I had just offered the same services to Gordon downstairs.

My mother moved towards me, head low. “Surely you remember what it felt like to be in their situation, Alice. They are in need of distraction. Anything to pull their attention away from their loss for even a moment.”

Unable to argue, I nodded and followed my mother into the room.

The space was dark. No one had pulled the curtains open yet. Lady Drummond, wearing her dressing gown, was sitting in bed beneath the blankets, while her husband paced the room distractedly.

“Eleanor?” Lady Drummond asked, turning towards the door.

“I sent for tea,” my mother said, crossing the room and taking her friend’s hand. “And Alice is here with me.”

Alastair’s mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “You two are so kind to us. I’m so glad to have met you.”

“And I you,” my mother said.

“I know Alastair would have grown to be very fond of you, too, Alice,” Lady Drummond said, turning her attention to me.

The woman sitting before me looked twenty years older than the woman I’d met the day before. Her face was lined and creased, and her eyes drooped as though they were trying to drip down her face. Grief had taken a toll on her.

“He was a very kind young man,” I said, wondering how many times I would be forced to pretend I knew anything about Alastair from the five minutes we’d spent together since my arrival.

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