A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,47
me. “But we will do what we can.”
Alana opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, offering me a tight smile instead. Watching her ascend the grand staircase, I puzzled over whether she had been about to issue some motherly words of caution, or if there had been something else she’d wished to share.
I shook the thought aside as Gage and I crossed the room toward where Lord Edward was waiting for us before the door positioned to the right of the great stone hearth. This door contained a small window, all the better through which to monitor the comings and goings from the castle. After a preemptory knock, Lord Edward opened the door to reveal a room lined with dark bookcases. Many of these were filled with books and ledgers bound with leather, but one portion was dominated by smaller pigeonhole-type compartments, similar to what might be found in a writing desk. This was evidently where the post and missives were sorted and stored before being delivered to each intended recipient.
Immediately to the right lay another door, which was propped open to allow in sunlight from the next outer room’s windows. Opposite this, another door stood open to allow access deeper into the servants’ domain of the castle. I quickly surmised this must be the way trunks and baggage were carried in and out of the sprawling building from the grand portico. While the guests entered through the vaulted passage from the portico and processed through the guardroom, their servants and belongings were hustled inside via a side door and through the porter’s lodge into the servants’ quarters. In this way, the hall porter was certain never to miss the arrival or departure of someone staying at the castle, be they family or guest. It also allowed the air to circulate, blunting the smells of ink, paper, wood, and stale cigar smoke.
As for the hall porter himself, he possessed a shock of white hair and perched at the desk positioned against the wall by the door through which we’d entered. The better to capture the most natural light as possible, I supposed, as well as hear the sounds of footsteps passing through the guardroom. Even so, the corners of his eyes were deeply etched with wrinkles from his squinting over the ledger before him with the aid of a candle set nearby. He glanced up in surprise and quickly rose to his feet.
“Hislop, here, is our hall porter,” Lord Edward declared. “He’s been with us for how long now? Eons?”
The sprightly older man, who was no taller than me, cast the duke’s son an amused glance before answering in a rich brogue. “Forty years, m’lord.” His features were rather delicate, except for his red, protuberant nose, which showed evidence of his having recently suffered from a cold in the head.
Lord Edward’s wide mouth twitched. “Mr. and Mrs. Gage need to take a look at the most recent visitors’ book. Going back to when?” He turned to us in query. “The first of December?”
“That should do,” Gage replied.
“Can you assist them with that?”
He eyed us with reserved interest. “Mr. Tait informed me no’ twenty minutes ago that Her Grace has asked us to assist in any way we can, an’ so I shall.”
“Good. Then I shall leave you to it.” Lord Edward’s gaze dipped to the mace Gage dangled at his side. “Shall I ask Tait to lock that up for safekeeping?”
Gage’s hand tightened around the handle. “I think I’ll keep it in my possession for the time being.”
If Lord Edward was insulted by or suspicious of this move, he didn’t show it. He merely shrugged and turned to go. “As you wish.”
“December first, ye say?” Mr. Hislop murmured, turning to stoop over his desk. “Then that’ll be the current log.” He closed the ledger he’d been studying upon our entrance, and opened the one below it bound in cognac leather. Flipping the pages backward from the marker he’d inserted in the book, he swiftly located the date in question. “Here we are. Please, m’lady. Have a seat.”
That answered my question whether he knew who I was, for evidently he was aware I still held my late husband’s courtesy title. Those who were not close to me, and those who refused my wishes, still addressed me as Lady Darby by courtesy, if not by right, since my first husband outranked my second. Though I’d heard a rumor that Sir