Silent on the Moor by Deanna Raybourn

Author:Deanna Raybourn [Raybourn, Deanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Historic Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-06-28T07:00:00+00:00

THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER

Death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come.

—William Shakespeare

Julius Caesar

I went directly to the maids’ room, opening the door without knocking. Minna was alone, knitting and talking to Grim and Florence. She looked up in alarm.

“Is there something amiss, my lady?” she asked, clearly alarmed.

“We are leaving. Pack your things and the animals and be prepared to leave first thing in the morning.”

Unlike Morag, who would have peppered me with questions, Minna merely laid aside her knitting and rose.

“Yes, my lady. I will begin at once.” She had gone quite pale, and I felt a surge of pity for her. It could not be an easy thing to live one’s life always at the mercy of another’s whims.

“I will pack for myself, Minna. See to yourself and the animals.”

She dipped a quick curtsey and said nothing.

I left her then and went to my chilly room, pausing to poke at the fire. I shoved viciously, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney until it was blazing. I opened my trunk and began to pitch things in, not troubling to fold anything. I was too angry to do the job properly. I knew that once I gave myself time to think about what had happened, I would be shattered, and it needed all my energy to get myself, a maid, an expectant dog, and a raven back to London.

I had just hurled a pair of boots into the trunk with a satisfying clatter when my door was thrown back on its hinges. Minna stood there, panting as if she had just taken the stairs two at a time. Her round little face was dead white, and she was wearing her cloak.

“Minna, whatever is the trouble?”

She put a hand to her side, pressing a stitch, I guessed. “My lady, oh, you must come! I think he’s dying!”

I blinked at her. “Who is dying? What on earth are you talking about?”

She tugged at my arm, dragging me toward the door. “I went downstairs to—oh, never mind! I heard him, at least, I heard a noise, as if something heavy had fallen. I went to his room to see if I could help, and I found him there. Please, my lady, you must come. He will die else!”

I realised then that she was talking about Brisbane. I jerked my arm out of her grasp and flew down the stairs, Minna hard on my heels. I found him in his bedchamber, collapsed on the floor between his bed and the hearth. He must have reached for something as he had fallen, for a stack of books was scattered over the floor, and the little bottle of red syrup was shattered over the hearthstones. He was lying on his side and he had been sick, comprehensively so. He was unaware of Minna, or of me, bending over him, calling his name. I pushed back his eyelids, but his eyes had rolled white, and as I watched, his muscles began to seize.

And as I

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