Page 40 of A Matter of Murder

“Well...” Agnes poured water into the washbasin, avoiding Lizzie’s questioning look. “Jenny Hollister didn’t come in today, but she could just be sick. And Danny, the youngest footman, also didn’t turn up this morning, but his mum never liked the idea of him going into service. Wanted him to stay home and help tend the farm.”

“Oh dear,” Lizzie said. “But you believe they left because of the curse.”

“Mr. Grigson has banned all talk of it, miss,” Agnes said nervously.

Lizzie didn’t want to force the girl into disobeying the butler, but she had rather hoped to get some information from her. “Well, what is said in here stays between the two of us. But does everyone believe the curse is real?”

Agnes shrugged. “I don’t know, miss. I don’t hold much with talk of curses. But everyone from Meryton certainly thinks it’s real.”

“And what about Sally?” Lizzie asked, trying to sound casual as she stood and began flipping through the dresses hanging in the wardrobe.

“Sally? The head housemaid? I reckon she believes in it more than any of us. She’s the one who told Jenny that if she doesn’t feel safe, it would be best for her to leave.”

Now that was interesting. Lizzie decided to feign ignorance as she asked, “Sally was the only one who was here when Honoria Bingley was still alive, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, miss,” Agnes said, her voice dropping a notch. “She grew up in this house, but she doesn’t like to talk about it. She’s the last to leave each night, and she reminds Mr. Grigson to lock up after her. I don’t think he likes being told what to do by a housemaid very much.”

“Hmm” was all Lizzie said, because secretly her mind was spinning. She had seen Sally in the window in the east wing last night, hadn’t she? Or had the light and her own exhaustion been playing tricks on her eyes? But her white-blond hair was unmistakable, and Lizzie didn’t recall seeing any other servant with hair the same hue when they’d all lined up before Netherfield Park on the day of their arrival. “Does she often stay late?”

“Later now, since you all arrived. She doesn’t like that, and she insists that she and all the locals need to be gone by midnight each night. Mr. Grigson and she are already rowing about what to do the night of the ball.”

Lizzie winced. She hadn’t thought of that—London balls went until dawn, although she doubted that would be the casefor Jane’s country ball. But still, the staff would be expected to stay very late.

“And do you share the others’ concerns about staying overnight, Agnes?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, miss. I came from an estate near Ware when I heard that Mr. Bingley was hiring a household staff. And I sleep like a babe, too.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lizzie said, reaching for the breakfast plate. “Hopefully Sally will make an exception for herself and all the local servants for Jane’s party. My sister is very much looking forward to it.”

“I think she might come around, miss. Mr. Grigson pointed out that they won’t be sleeping, they’ll be working. But she’s still uneasy. Truth is, I wonder if she’s less worried about the curse than she is about leaving her grandparents alone at night.”

Lizzie’s head jerked up. Her mouth was full of toast, and she swallowed quickly. “Her grandparents?”

“She lives with them in the caretaker’s cottage on the edge of the grounds,” Agnes said, then tilted her head to the side. “Or at least, I think so. One of the scullery maids was whispering about her, but Cook told her to get back to work, so I didn’t hear the entire story.”

“Her grandmother who was the housekeeper before?” Lizzie asked.

“Aye, miss. And her grandad was the groundskeeper. But they’re in no fit state now, that’s for certain.”

In all the commotion of discovering the dead man, Lizziehadn’t actually asked whether the caretakers of the estate from Honoria’s days were still alive. Jane had said that only one servant remained after Honoria’s death, so she had simply assumed they had passed. And Sally... Sally had been careful not to bring them up. Lizzie had made an error in assuming that they were no longer among the living, like Honoria Bingley herself.

But they were alive.

Lizzie stuffed the rest of the toast into her mouth and placed a small plate with Guy’s breakfast on the floor, which was enough to rouse him from the bed. By the time she finished chewing, she was already reaching for the wardrobe. “Agnes, I’ve just remembered that I promised Mr. Darcy I would speak with him this morning.”

“All right,” the maid said, clearly baffled by Lizzie’s sudden change in topic. “Let me help you dress, at least.”

“I’m all right,” Lizzie said, stepping behind a screen and tearing off her nightgown. “I’m terribly late.”

“They’re just now serving breakfast, so I’m sure Mr. Darcy isn’t even awake yet.”

“No, Darcy is very prompt,” Lizzie assured her, working the ties of her dress.

“Let me at least set your hair for you!”

Lizzie emerged from behind the screen a moment later. “It’s all right, I’ll pin it up. Can you hand me those stockings?”

Agnes watched in vague disapproval as Lizzie made short order of readying herself for the day, clearly not up to the maid’sstandards. When she was finally presentable, Agnes gave her a begrudging nod, then withdrew something from her apron pocket. “Before you go running off, miss, you’ve had two letters. They came in this morning’s post.”