Page 39 of A Matter of Murder
She watched, even as questions flooded through her. Who would be on the first floor of the east wing after Lizzie had very nearly fallen to her death just that afternoon? And why were they there in the middle of the night?
She tried to recall her own walk through the wing. Were they walking the halls, or in one of the many rooms that overlooked the forest? Finally, one window seemed to grow brighter and the movement stopped. Whoever was there had paused. Lizzie counted the shining black windows—it was the fifth window from the southeast corner.
Suddenly, Guy let out a single high-pitched bark—hisLet’s move along now, if you pleasebark. Lizzie jumped, and thenlooked down at her dog, who was looking up at her impatiently. He barked once more.
“Shh!” She picked up the dog, startling him into silence, and dodged behind a row of nearby hedges. In the daylight, she surely wouldn’t have been able to hide from whoever was positioned in a first-floor window—their vantage point would be too great. But she hoped that the darkness would prove to be her friend, and that whoever it was would not be able to pick her out of the shadows if she was mostly obscured.
“Good boy, Guy,” Lizzie whispered as she petted the dog. “That’s a very good boy. Be quiet for me, hmm?”
Guy let out a very ungentlemanly grunt and settled happily in her arms. She whispered to him a moment more, then she dared to peek up, carefully lifting her face.
The candle flickered in full view of the fifth window on the first floor, and a figure stood framed in the glass, looking down. For a fleeting moment, Lizzie wondered whether she was hiding from the ghost of Honoria Bingley. Then she got ahold of herself.
This was no ghost. It was a woman.
Lizzie had a hard time making out her face, but she was reasonably certain she hadn’t been spotted—the woman seemed to be looking left and right, as if searching for the source of the noise. Lizzie strained her eyes, trying to make out more detail. The woman’s hair was tied back, but her figure was cast in shadow, and it was impossible to discern features from thisdistance and in such poor light until... the woman turned away, and candlelight glinted off her white-gold hair.
Lizzie gasped. It was Sally.
Sally moved quickly, not lingering. The light retreated and then appeared again in the sixth window, although this time not as bright—she wasn’t as near to the window. After a moment, the candlelight withdrew again and bobbed into the seventh window, then the eighth. She was moving away, toward the back of the house.
Lizzie stood and jogged back to the front door. It swung open on silent, well-oiled hinges, and Lizzie shut and locked it behind her. Scarcely daring to breathe, she ran up the stairs, still carrying a squirming Guy. She hesitated a brief moment at the top of the stairs, and then crept very softly to the door to the east wing. With a shaking hand she reached for the knob and ever-so-gently tried to turn it.
Locked.
For a moment she wondered if she’d imagined it all—but no. As Lizzie had discovered, there was more than one way into the east wing. But why was Sally there in the dark? Surely that was madness.
Lizzie was tempted to turn right and knock on Darcy’s door. She wanted to tell him what she had seen, and then... what? Wait for Sally to emerge from the hidden corridor and confront her? But then sense prevailed. If she did that, there was a good chance they’d wake someone else. It wouldn’t do for her to getcaught out of her bed in the middle of the night, in the presence of an unmarried gentleman. Although her mother would surely be overjoyed at the swift wedding that would have to follow.
She went straight back to her room, setting Guy on the bed and jumping under the covers after kicking off her slippers and dropping her dressing gown. She shivered, despite the warmth of the bed, and tried to think up all the reasons why Sally might be creeping through the east wing. Was she looking for something? Inspecting the floors? Seeing if Lizzie and Charlotte had disturbed something?
What else was Netherfield Park hiding?
In the morning, Lizzie managed to rouse herself before Agnes came bustling in, bringing in a wave of cheerfulness.
“Good morning, miss!” she said, clearly surprised to find Lizzie already awake sitting near the window and looking out onto the dewy lawn. Guy was still tired from his midnight adventure and lay sprawled across the bed, but he jumped up and let out a single yip when Agnes entered.
“Good morning,” Lizzie said. “How are you today?”
“Me, miss? I should be asking you that question.”
“Why can’t we ask it of each other?”
“Well, because you’re...” Agnes looked unsure for the first time since Lizzie met her. “You’re a guest, and I’m a maid.”
“We’re both human beings with manners,” Lizzie pointed out.
“Very well. I am well, and you?”
“Quite well,” Lizzie said, although it wasn’t exactly true. She was still thinking about the previous day’s events, and what she had seen last night.
“And did you sleep well?”
“I did,” Lizzie said. Another lie. She’d fallen asleep quickly enough, but it had been a light, restless sleep that had left her a bit weary this morning. “And you?”
“Yes,” she said, seemingly embarrassed.
“And how is the household this morning? We haven’t lost anyone else since yesterday, have we?”