Page 18 of A Matter of Murder
“It’s all right. I did ask, after all. And I don’t blame anyone for being curious about a rumored curse. But tell me—do people actually believe in it?”
“I can’t speak for everyone, miss, but Sarah and one of the footmen didn’t show up this morning, and all the local help goes home at night.”
“What do you mean, they go home at night?”
“They refuse to sleep under this roof. So even if we aren’t finished until half past one, they still walk home, in the dark.”
Interesting.Lizzie ate her porridge as she pondered this so-called curse. Clearly Sarah had been terrified last night, and in the moment Lizzie had chalked up her reaction to shock and fear. But if the local villagers really believed in a curse...
“Do you spend the night here, Agnes?”
“Aye, miss. Me and those that came up from London.”
“And do you feel as though you’re in danger?”
“No, miss. The only dangerous thing about this house is how many stairs there are between here and the kitchen—not that I’m complaining!”
Lizzie smiled. “Thank you, Agnes. If you hear anything more about the curse, please do tell me. I’m not sure if I believe in such things, but if other people do, that could prove useful.”
“Useful in what way, miss?”
Lizzie took another bite of the delectable porridge as she considered her next words. When she swallowed, she said, “Useful in the sense that it might tell me something about who put that body in the flue in the first place. Oftentimes there is a glimmer of truth in the stories that people tell, no matter how far-fetched they sound.”
“A glimmer of truth,” Agnes repeated. “I like that. Now,will you be wearing your green lawn or the blue muslin dress today?”
Lizzie blinked in surprise. “Oh, you don’t need to—I mean, I am quite accustomed to dressing myself.”
“Suit yourself, miss, but I have been instructed to act as your lady’s maid while you’re here,” Agnes said, showing the first sign of uncertainty since Lizzie had opened her eyes and seen the girl in her room.
“Oh, well...” Lizzie didn’t want her to get in trouble, even inadvertently. “The green lawn?”
Agnes smiled wide. “Excellent, miss.”
A half hour later, Lizzie was washed and dressed, her hair set in an uncharacteristically fancy twist thanks to Agnes’s adept fingers, and she was taking Guy, his belly full, on his first walk of the day in the Netherfield gardens. The sun was bright and the gardens verdant and fragrant, if slightly overgrown, and the countryside felt unnaturally quiet despite the twittering of birds and the rustle of the light breeze. It was peculiar being away from London—by half-past nine in the morning, Lizzie would have seen no fewer than a dozen people, but here she’d only seen Agnes. As she strolled up and down the garden path, letting Guy see to his morning business, she couldn’t help but think that this sense of isolation did not bode well for this case.
“Lizzie!”
She turned at the sound of her name, only to find Darcy standing at the end of the long hedgerow, panting slightly.
“Wait for me!” he called, and jogged after her.
Guy, the little traitor, yipped in excitement when he saw Darcy and pulled at his leash to go meet him. Lizzie dropped the leash so the dog could run ahead, and Darcy dropped on one knee to pet him. Guy whined in happiness, then flopped over in the grass, exposing his belly to Darcy. Darcy obliged by giving his belly a good rub, and then had the audacity to look up at Lizzie and smile.
“Good morning,” he said, unperturbed by her own lack of excitement at seeing him. “Sleep well?”
“Smugness is unbecoming,” she said with a sniff.
Darcy gave Guy’s belly one last rub before getting to his feet. “Here we are, all alone out in the countryside with nothing to occupy us... you’d be bored if you hadn’t agreed to look into the case.”
Normally Lizzie felt a thrill of delight whenever she realized that Darcy understood her. Now it was just irritating. “And whose fault is it that we are out in the middle of nowhere without any cases?”
“Lady Catherine’s,” he said, giving her a pointed look.
“Lady Catherine didn’t drive us out of our home, and if we had just stayed—”
“Then we would have been risking certain danger to ourselves, if not your family.”
It was a low blow, and she glared. “You think that I don’t care for their safety? I wanted them to leave London—but me staying and finding a way to meet with her would have protected them. It would have protectedyou.”