having difficulty maintaining her equilibrium. “It’s none of your business what I’ve been doing.”
“You should be thankful it was me rather than Dr. Edmunds coming through the hallway. He would not be pleased to find you out at such an hour.”
The maid crept close. Her eyes were watery and slightly unfocused. Rachel could smell the sweet aroma of gin on her breath. “Are you planning on telling him?”
“I would not do that, Molly, even though it is not right for you to break the rules.”
“You’re a fine one to lecture me on breaking rules.”
A frisson of apprehension shimmied along Rachel’s arm. “You have been out drinking. I can smell it on you.”
“I know your secret, so don’t be trying to scare me.” Molly inched even closer, and the stench of alcohol stung Rachel’s nose, making her choke. “I know about your trial. Oh yes, Miss hoity Dunne, come to help the master as a special assistant, has a criminal past. Wouldn’t the good doctor be shocked to hear about that? I’m thinking of telling him too.”
She had listened at the library door during Claire’s interview and . . . the letter. Rachel had left it in the pocket of her apron, tossed hastily onto her bed when she’d gone to Claire’s house. She hadn’t retrieved the apron until after she had returned from Mr. Fenton-Smith’s. Had Molly been prying in her room and found the note?
Rachel hoped her expression concealed her mounting alarm. “I do not have a criminal past, so there is nothing for you to tell Dr. Edmunds except lies. And what if I told him that I encountered you creeping about in the dead of night, returning from an assignation, stinking of cheap gin? He would not be happy with you either, Molly.”
Rachel could see Molly calculating the possibility she might inform Dr. Edmunds, though in truth she never would.
The maid retreated and lifted her chin. “I’ve decided I won’t say anything to Dr. Edmunds for now. I’d rather you worry awhile about when I might. Yeah. I think I rather like that idea.”
Molly smirked, gathered her cloak around her, and barged past. Pulse hammering, Rachel waited until the girl was out of sight to hurry up to her room. Slapping the candlestick onto the chest, Rachel grabbed her apron off the hook where she’d hung it that evening. She examined each pocket—twice, foolishly enough. No letter. Molly must have found it. Its contents would be serious evidence against Rachel. She grabbed up the candle, swept it before her. She had to hold onto hope the letter might still be somewhere in the room.
But there was nothing. Not beneath the chest of drawers. Not beneath the narrow bed. Not slipped under the rug.
Rachel’s heart sank. The letter was gone.
CHAPTER 13
Two days later, Rachel sighed at her reflection in her bedchamber’s mirror. She’d had another sleepless night, and no matter how much she pinched color into her cheeks, nothing would mask the dark circles beneath her eyes. Nothing would banish the apprehension in them either. Even the beautiful dress Claire had sent for Rachel to wear to her interview today was failing to make her feel better, feel confident.
Rachel fastened the last hook-and-eye on the gown. It was cut to the latest fashion, with a high bodice, belling sleeves closed at the wrist, and a wide ribbon of patterned cream at the waist. Its soft calico material was printed with a pale copper and red flower motif that echoed the shading of Rachel’s hair. The last time she had owned anything as handsome was when she’d turned twelve and Mother had presented her a lovely violet dress for her birthday, sewn by her own hands. Rachel had worn that dress on every occasion until the lace had frayed and the hem mended to where it had become far too short.
If Molly destroyed her reputation, though, and Rachel didn’t obtain the teaching position at the school, this dress might not ever have the opportunity to fray from too much use.
Stop it, Rachel. You are worrying over matters you cannot control. Be strong.
Squaring her shoulders and snapping taut her bonnet ribbons, Rachel descended the rear stairs just as the hall clock chimed eleven. Out on the street, Claire waited in her carriage. Perfectly prompt.
Her brown eyes lit when she spotted Rachel.
“I see you received my gift,” Claire said as her driver handed Rachel into the carriage.
“I did, and thank you, Claire.” Rachel ran her hands over the printed cotton, smooth