The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex

Author:Elizabeth Essex
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780758262165
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2010-03-26T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

The Heart of Oak stank of stale, spilled beer, damp wool, and day-old fish, but it was close to hand and the patrons knew how to mind their own damn business.

“What the hell’s going on?” The tall man threw his bag into the bar with obvious disgust.

“Keep your voice down. What do you mean?”

“What’s this business about scaring the shite out of the bloody woman?”

“Which woman? The old housekeeper, Mrs. Tupper?”

“No. She’s no problem. Keeps to her cottage.”

“The place is supposed to be empty.”

“Well, it bloody well ain’t!”

He swore colorfully into the night. This was not a part of the plan. They would have to adapt. Quickly.

“So we’re to go in and put a fright into her?”

“I guess. I don’t like the idea. Could get dicey. Always does with women. Unpredictable, that’s what they are.”

“Don’t be such a flaming puss. We’ve run this ken before to empty the place out. You go in disguised and armed. She’s not like to say boo to a pair of pistols.”

“Pistols? Since when have we taken to threatening women with guns?”

“Since that house became occupied, that’s when.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. There’s plans made can’t be changed. They might be asea already.”

The tall man shook his head. “There’s things and then there’s things. I don’t want any part of going after that woman, pistols or no.”

“Orders is orders. We need to see this done. So shut your gob and drink your beer.”

Lizzie got up to poke up the fire and then retreated to the warmth of the wide bed. Though it was the beginning of summer, and the days could be warm and lovely, the nights were still apt to have a chill. A damp, sea-borne chill.

Somewhere in the house below, a door groaned open, and then creaked closed. At least she thought it was a door. Directly below, in the library.

Had Mr. Tupper finally relented and come back to restock the wood for the fire? Lizzie had been used to coal fires at Hightop, and indeed there was a grate for coal in the fireplace, but she suspected the wood, or the lack thereof, was just one more way for Mr. Tupper to discourage her residence. But a glance told her the copper bucket next to the fireplace was already stocked full of seasoned wood. How strange.

She glanced up at the clock on the mantel. Well past one o’clock in the morning. Mr. Tupper would never be up so late.

The upstairs corridor was dark and empty and she was, of a sudden, reluctant to leave the warm glow of heat and light in the bedroom. How ridiculous. Since when was she such a faint heart? And in her own house?

She would have gone out into the hall but a sound, rising up the stair and echoing through the empty halls, raised the hairs at the back of her neck.

A long, low moan. And then again, louder, as if the noise, the person, whatever it was, was moving through the house.

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