The Sinister Spinster by Joan Overfield

Author:Joan Overfield [Overfield, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Ten Talents Press
Published: 2015-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

"Will there be anything else, Miss Mattingale?" The footman hovered attentively at Elizabeth's elbow, the silver coffeepot clutched in his hand. "Some eggs, perhaps, or some ham?"

Despite her exhaustion, Elizabeth scraped up a smile for his benefit. "No, thank you, Thomas," she managed, her stomach rolling at the thought of food. "I fear I'm not very hungry this morning."

The footman's face flushed a dull red, and he ducked his head. "No, miss," he said, looking down. "I don't reckon you are." He stepped over to the sideboard, busying his hands for several moments before clearing his throat.

"Miss Mattingale?"

Elizabeth's fingers tightened about her cup. "Yes, Thomas?" she asked, steeling herself for his words of reproach. She'd spent most of last evening sitting in stoic silence while the other guests poked and jabbed at her. She supposed she would have to do the same while the servants let their opinion of her be known. Heaven knew it couldn't be any worse than what she'd already heard.

"I just wanted to say, miss, we—t'other servants n' me—we none of us think you done like they say," he said, his words tumbling over each other in a heartfelt rush. " 'Tis nonsense, and we know it. You're a lady."

The awkward words brought the sting of tears to Elizabeth's eyes. Dealing with kindness, she discovered, was much harder than dealing with animosity. With animosity one had but to construct barricades strong enough to keep out the pain, but there was no such defense against those who cared about you.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said, struggling not to cry. "That means a great deal to me. Please tell the others I am most grateful for their faith in me."

"Yes, miss," he said, and then, as if fearing he'd said more than was proper, he picked up the coffeepot and fled the room.

When she was certain she was alone Elizabeth indulged in a brief bout of tears, giving in to the fear and despair she'd refused to acknowledge, even to herself. Yesterday had been the most horrific day in her life, and she knew that had it not been for Adam and Alexi standing so solidly at her side, it would have been worse. Only their presence, she was certain, kept her from being clapped in gaol. As it was, she might as well be locked away, for all the freedom she would have.

"The fact that we failed to discover the missing papers in your possession changes nothing, Miss Mattingale," the earl had informed her during their private interview. "You are still suspect, and you may be very sure your every movement will be scrutinized.

"Naturally," he'd added, his eyes sparkling with malevolent glee, "you may not leave the grounds until this matter has been resolved. His grace's orders, you understand."

The idea of the powerful duke thinking her guilty was terrifying, and she wondered if even the support of her two knights-errant would be enough to protect her. If he thought she was guilty, that is, she brooded, dabbing at her cheeks.

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