“Mother, he is here to gather facts so we can determine what happened, but also because we believe Lady Tipton is in danger,” Max attempted to calm his mother. “We need to know what she knows.”
“Forgive my outburst. Yes. Yes, we need to protect this young woman from any person who could hurt her.” She patted Maggie’s hand subtly.
“Yes.” The short man gave an unconcerned look, eager to resume his inquiry. Given the go-ahead, he gathered the details of her last evening with Lord Tipton. “Prior to coming here, you were staying at your parents’ home, which had been boarded up?” She nodded. “How did you gain entry?”
Maggie took a moment before answering. “My father had been visiting his grandmother shortly before the revolution in France. He and his grandmother narrowly escaped back to England. It made an impression on him, and he made certain my brother and I knew of a secret entrance to the house. It has an entry near my father’s study. I accessed it and found blankets and other supplies maintained in a small safe room behind the study.”
“Your father had a secret room?”
“In a manner of speaking. Father created it. He did not like the parlor that sat next to his study. I believe he had that room redecorated, and in doing so, created a small secret room between the two. We all knew about it, but it had been years since I had seen it.”
“Interesting. But when you saw Slade, you had come down the stairs?”
“Yes. I had ventured to my bedroom to find a book to read and anything I might have left behind that I could sell. I also wanted to find my miniature of my parents.” She fingered a small locket hidden beneath the neckline of her dress. “It was raining, storming terribly, but I heard noises in my father’s study, so Shep and I crept downstairs. That was when we saw him throwing things from Father’s bookshelves.”
Max interrupted, feeling this would be a good time to bring up Maggie’s feelings toward Winters. “Lady Tipton, please tell Harlow and Mr. Nizal what you told me.”
Trembling, Meg began to tell them about how she had survived the fate of her family and why she feared she was being followed. When she talked about the last day she had spent with her family, she faltered, but forced herself to continue. Her voice rose when she spoke of seeing Slade beneath the bedroom window.
“So, you feel that their deaths had been premeditated.”
“Yes.” Meg brushed her eyes.
“Your uncle stood to benefit with your brother also dying. It gave him the title, and the entitled properties.”
“My father met with me that last morning.” Her voice lowered to barely a whisper. “He told me of things I should know, should anything happen to him. Papers and money that I should know about. He pointed out their whereabouts to me.”
“What were those papers, Meg?” Max was very interested.
“He did not tell me much. He mentioned important papers Mother would need in his absence, and Grandmother’s deed for the house we lived in. They had left the home to my mother, as the only daughter of her parents, and I understood that they would leave it to me. I did not ask Father how that would happen, thinking we would have plenty of time to talk about it. He left shortly afterward to accompany my mother and brother shopping.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
“Would your uncle have known about the property passing to your mother?” Max interjected.
“I believe so. Although, Uncle Silas rarely visited. He and my father did not exactly see eye-to-eye on things. I heard them arguing once about money. Uncle Silas left in a huff. Father said he would not give him more. Father briefly mentioned a recent letter from Uncle Silas requesting money that last day.” Her voice trailed off.
“Did you find the papers?”
“I did.” She stopped there. “I located Father’s secret box, but I left it where he had left it, hidden from view. However, the key to it is again missing. Father had lost it, then found it that morning when we were talking. But I left the room before Father left with Mother. I had planned to search for it.”
“I am familiar with Nash Slade. He can be dangerous. I am curious about why he left you alone when he saw you before leaving your house that night.” Mr. Nizal held her gaze. “Are you aware of rumors that connect Nash Slade to your uncle as an illegitimate son?”
A hush fell over the room.
“I was not.” Maggie barely whispered.
“But the former Viscount Winters and your mother knew of this, my dear.” His mother spoke up. “According to what your mother told me, your father made sure that Slade’s mother had financial support to raise and educate the boy. While he could not acknowledge him as his nephew publicly, your father had been supportive.”
“Well, that only adds to the mystery of his presence. It does not change the fact that he is dangerous and has frequently worked for your uncle. And I understand we have seen him here. Please be advised that you could be in danger. Stay inside the safety of this house.” He closed his book, signaling that he had taken enough notes. “Lady Tipton, with your permission, I would like to visit your home. I need to see the interior.”
Chapter 8
The dowager countess and the doctor had both asked Max to give Maggie at least two more days of rest before undertaking an expedition to her parents’ home. Besides the harsh cold, the emotional trauma suffered concerned them. In that time, a light snow had added to the one that had already fallen, keeping the ground lush and powdery white. With the sun shining behind light clouds, the weather was crisp and cold as the small party of four left Hambright Manor.
Maggie quelled the emotion rising within her as she mentally parsed through the details of her last meeting with her father. It oddly combined the emotions that assailed her—fear mixed with a sense of longing and impatience. She wanted answers, and it looked like she could not leave Max’s home soon.
She was always being pampered and cared for, something that she had not known since losing her parents. The last three years had been nothing but heartache, pain, and fear. She reveled in the fresh air and the attention, but still feared she might bring trouble to Max and his mother. Yet they squashed the thought every time she broached it. She also found herself more and more drawn to Max, recalling little things like his penchant for making her smile whenever they were together. It did not matter whether they were getting an ice or riding. They enjoyed each other’s company. She had shelved a lot of those memories, but his constant nearness unleashed them little by little.
“Lady Tipton, do you agree?”
“Yes? Oh. I am sorry. You caught me woolgathering.” A heated blush colored her face. The blasted man never stops asking questions. She turned her attention to Mr. Nizal. “I heard the last part, kind sir. Would you mind repeating your question?”
They had hoisted the short round man onto the seat across from her. His legs dangled off the seat, and his feet barely touched the floor of the carriage. Maggie fought back a giggle at the sight. Mr. Nizal regarded her and put down his notebook. His look was always one of scrutiny. “Your ladyship, do you think we should pull to the front or the back of the house? I ask because it is likely that people watch. This snow”—he waved his hands nonchalantly at the window next to him—“makes it easy to see tracks. That could be good or bad. Yes, let me think about that.”
“Was there a question in there?” Max’s voice had a lighthearted lilt to it.
Maggie noticed Max was trying to smother a smile, and she grinned. “If I recall, there is a portico at the back. The small drive the servants used swings off the main drive out front and moves to the back of the house. The tracks would be noticeable, but only to someone on the property. Otherwise, we can visit without notice from others on the road.”
“Yes, that will do nicely. I would like to visit as much of the house and stable area as possible. Your parents died from a carriage accident. If something nefarious happened, it most likely would have started in their own stables.” He scribbled fiercely for a moment and tucked the nub and pad in his faded wa
istcoat pocket.
“Er…Maggie, dear. There is something I wanted to discuss with you. I had not mentioned it before as I had not imagined this trip.” The countess turned to Maggie and patted her arm gently. “But have you heard…um…did you see…?” Lady Worsley was struggling with her thoughts, but Maggie had a good idea what the countess was asking.
“Are you asking if I have seen the rumored ghost?” Maggie spoke softly.
Max’s mother touched her arm again and nodded, her lips closed tightly.
Maggie debated how she should answer the question. She was not sure if she had seen the ghost, but she never felt scared by the thought of her. “I suppose the short answer is that I have not.” All conversation ceased in the carriage as she struggled to answer. “While I have not seen the ghost, Shep and I heard her singing. And there was the scent of roses.” She looked at the little dog sleeping on her lap. She had refused to leave him behind. “Shep reacted to it first, but not hastily. He seemed to recognize it. We heard a woman softly humming a song—a lullaby from my childhood. My grandmother and mother used to sing it to me. If a ghost exists, it must be one of them. Since my grandmother died from an illness, I believe it to be my mother. At one time, I did not believe in ghosts, but I am no longer sure. I have felt only welcome in the house. I had a sense of being cared for there. Blankets and a pillow were in the safe room—which I found unusual—and there was food. The uncovered well gave us easy access to fresh water.”
Mr. Nizal’s and Max’s mouths were hanging open; perhaps startled at her comments. Lady Worsley nodded and pushed a tear away from her eye. Shep lifted his head, then licked her arm before returning to sleep in her lap.
“My dear, you could have the right of it. Your mother would never harm you, and she would do her best from the beyond to intercede on your behalf. I heard a discussion about the ghost of a woman that peers from behind the curtain in the middle room on the third story.” She took a breath. “Observers say the moonlight almost gives enough light to see her face, and she has long dark hair…much like your dear mother.”
The thought of her mother not being at peace unnerved Maggie, but because of her sudden death, she understood the unrest.
Mr. Nizal harrumphed, interrupting her thoughts. “Well, I am not sure of ghosts and such, but we should at least consider the possibility that someone is living in the attic. I would like to start there.”
A hush descended upon the four. The ground changed to cobblestones, signaling they were pulling into the drive. Shep opened his eyes but kept his head down. Maggie bit back any response. It was best to let people believe as they wanted, but she had heard the humming herself.
Max rapped on the ceiling of the carriage and the driver slowed to a stop. He leaned out of a window and gave directions to the back portico, and the driver moved the carriage to the rear entrance.
Once they stopped, Max opened the door and helped his mother, then Maggie, from the carriage. Mr. Nizal followed Shep, who was not waiting. Maggie felt sure that the discussion of a ghost had disquieted all of them. No one spoke for a long minute.
“There is a key to the servant’s door…or was a key in the loose brick at the base of the well,” Maggie offered, moving to retrieve it. “Found it.” She held the long skeleton key up for approval.
“Wonderful. I should like to see the attic and work my way down to the study, if you do not mind. And I would like to visit the room behind it…the safe room, you called it.” Mr. Nizal eyed the shrubs and garden area in the back before nodding and moving to the door. “No tracks here, save our own. That is good. Let us proceed.”
Max quietly offered Maggie his arm. She slid a gloved hand over his arm and was unprepared for the tingle of warmth that tickled her. She kept her touch light as she entered the only home she could remember. She had shared her story but was still unsure she should have told all about Father’s box. Too late now. She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. Maggie needed to find that key to gain entry to her father’s secret box, otherwise she might have to break it. She preferred not to do that. Maggie had only wanted the money her father had spoken of before his death, but now she realized she needed to see the contents of his will and the deed he spoke of for herself. I need Max’s help.
* * *
Max was happy to see Meg looking more herself. She was still bruised, but the bruises had yellowed, and some had faded. The small cuts had healed, and her cheeks were once again rosy, drawing attention to her plump lips. He shook his head slightly, needing to clear it of these thoughts. He was here to help her, not take advantage of her. The brisk air may have had a bit to do with it. He was leery of what they might find, but with Mr. Nizal’s men blanketing the area, he felt better. He and Harlow had traversed his own lands, and neither of them had come upon men they would have recognized as undercover runners—at least, not until they came in to eat; even then, they raised no suspicions. They took food to his hunting cabin and left it for the men. Only key members of his household knew of them. The less they knew, the better. He had to protect Meg.
The short distance to her home gave him a few moments to relax and contemplate things. What if Meg was right about her uncle and her parents’ deaths? How could he determine that? There would have had to be witnesses. There was a mountain of circumstantial evidence that surrounded it; he could see why she had concluded what she had, but without direct evidence, it would not hold up against a peer.
Max glanced over at Meg. Her face was nearly pressed to the glass of her family’s parlor window, staring outside. He could not imagine the thoughts going through her head. How did he get here? The last person he had expected to see when he returned home was Meg, and despite his best efforts, her presence had awakened the feelings he had worked to hide. Could there be a future for him and Meg? He had not thought it possible. He wondered.
The discussion about her mother’s ghost gave him a bit of pause. Max had never liked ghost stories as a child and preferred to deal with what and whom he could see. Meg believed, so he would keep an open mind. So many people over the past years had claimed to have seen the ghost—even in the daytime—there could be something to it. His mother’s attitude toward the possibility of a ghost startled him. She was very matter-of-fact, not easily scared at all.
“Please stay close to me,” he whispered tenderly. He wondered when he had dismissed his own caution regarding Meg. Perhaps it was the moment he had heard about the baby. They had once spoken of having children together—so much so, he could still summon his mind’s image of what their babies might look like—a blonde girl and a dark-headed boy, both with green eyes like their mother. To find out she had lost a baby girl, both broke his heart and angered him at the same time. A child of Meg’s had died. He could not imagine the callous disregard she had endured. “Are you still feeling up to this?” He came short of asking if she needed to sit down, thinking it too solicitous. Maggie would rebel.
“I am quite fine, Max.” Her body shuddered despite her words. “Let us get this over with.”
“My apologies.” His tone was sincere. “Are you worried we might run into Slade?”
“I do not know. The hair on the back of my neck has suddenly gone prickly. That usually means something is wrong. I have learned the hard way to follow my instincts.” She looked about the back hall, wearing a concerned expression. “Would you mind if I go to Father’s study first? I remembered something, and I would like to check to see if my memory is correct.”
Max regarded her. She was shivering, but it was freezing in the house. He wondered how she had stayed warm while she was here with her dog. They had not used a fireplace for fear of being discovered. The cold inside the house was damp and fierce.
He interrupted his mother and Nizal, who were discussing the house. “Mother, since you are well-acquainted with the house, would you mind showing Mr. Nizal the upstairs area? Meg has asked me to help her with something. We shall join you in a few minutes.” He hoped Meg would not make a lia
r of him. He could not explain his need for a few minutes with her.
His mother pinned him with a look and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “Son, we had hoped to make this a quick trip. It will be dark soon, and we want to get back to the manor to get warm and eat.” More audibly, she added with a wry smile, “Certainly, my dear.” She nodded at Mr. Nizal and moving toward the stairs. The investigator followed behind her with his notebook and pen in hand.
Max returned to Meg, who had picked up Shep and was holding him close. “I am trying to keep him warm. His fur is not as thick as most animals’,” she explained. Shep gave her a kiss and placed his head on her shoulder, tucking it beneath the fur of her pelisse.
“Where did you want to go?” he asked her.
“I thought of a place I should check in the study to see if Father’s key is there.”
“You could not access the box when you were here?”
“I had not thought it immediately necessary. I did not imagine there would be an intruder.” A shudder shook her. “I have imagined many scenarios…namely, was he here the whole time we were here? How did he get in here? My mind keeps replaying sounds and scenarios.” Her mouth twitched slightly. “Perhaps we should start looking. We only have a few hours of light.” She lightly patted his arm.
Meg’s slight touch addled his mind, rendering him motionless. As she moved past him, her scent stirred his senses, and he followed her into the study, suddenly aware of their isolation from the rest of the group. His desire aroused as he walked behind breathing deeply of her fragrance, his heart hammering in his chest.
Meg held her dog close and meandered past groups of shelved books, occasionally pulling one, before replacing it and stepping to the next panel of books.
“Are you searching for something specific?” he asked.
“Yes. I think Romeo and Juliet. But that is the only book I recall in the stack.”
“Two star-crossed lovers. Surely we can be more.”
The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1) Page 7