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Berkshire, September 1900

T he picnic on the lawn signaled an end to the crack of gunshots that had spoiled our morning. The extensive gardens of Hambledon Hall were peaceful once again, disturbed only by the movements of servants as they laid out refreshments and the gentle fluttering of ladies’ fans. The shooting party of six gentlemen rejoined us at the same time as the children of our host and hostess arrived with their nanny, who firmly held the hands of her two excited charges. She appeared to be scolding them out of the corner of her mouth, but the children paid her no mind as they broke free and ran to their father, Lord Kershaw.

Lady Kershaw smiled at her husband as he ruffled the golden hair of their son. Her smile became tight as her gaze connected with the nanny’s. The nanny dipped her head as she waited for her employer to send the children back to her. “She’s new and is yet to earn their respect,” Lady Kershaw said on a sigh. “I’m afraid they’re a handful.”

We ladies sat in the shade of the black-and-white-striped umbrellas, where tables and chairs had been set up. The food was laid out in a tent nearby. With the arrival of the gentlemen, we were merely waiting on a sign from Lady Kershaw to partake of the offerings.

Aunt Lilian stood before our hostess gave the signal, however. Having kept to her room all morning, she’d appeared downstairs moments before we ventured outside. The twitching of her facial muscles and her enlarged pupils were evidence that she’d taken her tonic. The energizing effects of the cocaine would only last an hour before they wore off and she became irritable and fatigued. Her family knew all too well that it was best to avoid her company when that happened. Until then, she would be as restless as the children.

“Didn’t you have a new nanny last year?” she asked Lady Kershaw.

Lady Kershaw watched the nanny usher the children to the tables of food and assist them with their selection from the vast spread. “She left three months ago.”

“And the year before that, too?”

“They’re so difficult to hold on to. I find it’s the same for most of the young female staff. They simply don’t want to be in service these days.”

“How strange,” my cousin Flossy said. “We don’t have that trouble with our maids, do we, Mother?”

Aunt Lilian either didn’t hear her or pretended not to, out of politeness to our hostess. Flossy seemed to realize too late that she may have offended Lady Kershaw. She was right in that the Mayfair Hotel had a large number of maids to service the guest rooms, and many of them stayed with us for years. But it wasn’t polite to point this out after Lady Kershaw’s comment. It implied there was a problem at Hambledon Hall that sent them packing. If it was only the female staff who didn’t stay, it was likely the problem was a man.

I couldn’t imagine the amiable Lord Kershaw being the cause, however. In his early forties, ten years older than his wife, my uncle’s friend had warmly welcomed us to the three-day house party and seemed to have an open countenance. I’d chatted with him about all manner of topics, where most men his age wouldn’t bother with a young female guest. I’d not felt uncomfortable for a moment during those conversations, or at any other time, nor had a I noticed him pay particular attention to the nanny or maids. We’d arrived only yesterday, so I didn’t know him particularly well yet, but I prided myself on picking up certain cues from lecherous men, and I perceived none from him.

Perhaps the problem lay with one of the male staff. I made a mental note to warn Harmony and Aunt Lilian’s maid to be careful.

With the children seated beside their nanny, Lady Kershaw rose and invited us to fill a plate. The game the men had shot would be served at dinner tonight, we’d been told, but there was still a variety of choices available for luncheon, from several different sandwiches to cold slices of meat, pies, cheeses and fruit.

My other cousin, Floyd, slipped in beside me, his plate already piled high. “The shooting was invigorating. You should try it, Cleo.”

“Killing living things doesn’t appeal to me.”

“She says as she places a ham sandwich on her plate.”

“I’m quite happy to eat what others kill out of necessity, but I don’t want to make a sport of it, thank you. I hope you didn’t shoot more than we need for dinner.”

“Anything we shot that isn’t served at Hambledon will be given to the villagers. It’s a tradition that dates back to the time King Henry the Eighth stayed here and hunted game in the very same woods.” He forked a slice of beef onto his plate. “We were supposed to continue this afternoon, but it’s been called off.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Not enough birds, perhaps. Or perhaps it’s so we can be sociable and play yet another round of croquet with the ladies.”

“You could always plead a headache and retire if it bores you.”

He glanced in his mother’s direction. “Better not. One Bainbridge absence will be enough. Besides, I have a feeling Miss Browning will need guidance again, and I rather look forward to giving it to her.”

“Floyd,” I chided. “She’s engaged to be married. Stop flirting with her.”

“She’s flirting with me! It’s not my fault she likes me better than her dull fiancé.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“He’s in banking, Cleo. He must be dull.”

“I’m sure his family money makes him a great deal more interesting than you think.” I regretted it the moment I said it. Janet Browning’s fiancé could be a wonderful man for all I knew, and it wasn’t fair to presume she was marrying him for his money.

Lord Kershaw’s niece was a year or two younger than me, and got along swimmingly with Flossy. Both lively, pretty girls, they turned heads wherever they went. They also seemed to find amusement in a great many things. What those things were, I wasn’t entirely sure. They spent a lot of time giggling behind their fans.

Floyd rejoined the gentlemen reminiscing about the morning’s shooting, while I sat at a table with the elderly Lady Elizabeth Wentworth, Lord Kershaw’s aunt, and Mrs. Browning, his sister and Janet’s mother. Mrs. Browning had placed a full plate in front of her aunt, but Lady Elizabeth only poked the contents with her fork as she inspected the selection. The hand holding the fork trembled.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to sit with ladies your own age, Miss Fox?” she asked.

Just as she said it, Janet spilled a little claret on the tablecloth in her enthusiasm to signal to Floyd to join her and Flossy. Both girls giggled as a hovering footman swooped in and discreetly covered the spill with a cloth.

“I’d rather talk to you,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about Hambledon Hall. How old is it?”

Lady Elizabeth’s blue eyes lit up as she told me about the house she’d lived in since it was built fifty years ago, after the previous Tudor manor was torn down by her father. I’d not realized it was so new. The towers and battlements were purely for show, then. Hambledon Hall hadn’t begun life as a fortified structure, despite appearances. The only shots that would have been fired in its vicinity were for sport.

“Some of the villagers call it a Gothic monstrosity, but I’m fond of the pile of stones,” Lady Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “The old place was so drafty in comparison. Now it’s full of life with the two children tearing along its halls. I’m fortunate to have lovely memories of both houses.”

I placed her age at around eighty, so she would have well and truly been an adult when the current house was completed. She’d resided at either the previous or current Hambledon Hall her entire life. Having never married, she’d outlived her father and brother—the fourth and fifth earls of Kershaw—and was living with her nephew, the sixth, and his young wife. From what I could see, they doted on her.

Lord Kershaw’s sister, Mrs. Browning, sat on her aunt’s other side, her plate empty except for two slim ribbon sandwiches. “Did I overhear you mention oriel windows, Aunt Elizabeth? Miss Fox is a young lady. She doesn’t want to talk about the style of windows in the gloomy old place.”

Lady Elizabeth’s hand fluttered to her mouth with a birdlike flap. “Oh dear, Miss Fox, I am sorry. I’m boring you, aren’t I? I do tend to go on sometimes.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I asked about the Hall because I’m interested in architecture. In fact, a friend of mine will want to hear all about it when I return to London.” I stopped myself before I let slip that my friend was a man. I didn’t want to set tongues wagging.

From the way Lady Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, I wondered if she realized.

Lady Kershaw sat beside Mrs. Browning. The sisters-in-law couldn’t look more different. The younger of the two, Lady Kershaw was short and full-figured whereas Mrs. Browning was tall and slim. Her ladyship’s dark, almond-shaped eyes often brightened when she spoke and her apple cheeks turned pink after minor exertion. Like her husband, she’d welcomed me warmly into her home.

Mrs. Browning, however, peered down her nose at me from her great height through frosty blue eyes. I would have assumed that was how she treated everyone and not been offended, except that I was the only lady she looked at that way. Flossy suffered no such disdain. Given my father had been a mathematics professor of no particular lineage, and Flossy’s father was related to nobility, albeit distantly, I didn’t need to look hard for a reason for Mrs. Browning’s prejudice. She might be the daughter of the late earl, but she had married a commoner, so I’d expected a measure of empathy from her, but she was snobbier than the rest of her family put together.

“I hear the shooting party was such a success they won’t be continuing this afternoon,” Lady Kershaw said. “They have enough birds.”

Mrs. Browning made a scoffing noise. “There’s never enough, Marion. Even if they’d shot a mountain of partridge, they’d want more.” Her gaze slid to her husband, standing with some of the other gentlemen, a glass of beer in his hand. “That’s men for you. Always eager to destroy unnecessarily.”

Lady Kershaw looked uncomfortable at her sister-in-law’s brutal assessment. She may outrank Mrs. Browning, but she tended to shrink in her presence. Even though she was the hostess, and the Brownings didn’t reside at Hambledon Hall, she often deferred to Mrs. Browning before making a decision. Perhaps Lady Kershaw felt inferior because she’d come to the Hall only upon her marriage, whereas Mrs. Browning was born and raised here.

Lady Elizabeth asked to be excused. Lady Kershaw signaled to her husband to assist his aunt, but he was too intent on one of the outdoor servants emerging from the trees in the distance to notice. Instead, Uncle Ronald offered his arm. With him on her left side, and her walking stick in her right hand, Lady Elizabeth slowly made her way back to the house.

“I hope your aunt is all right,” I said to Mrs. Browning. “She left very suddenly.”

Mrs. Browning didn’t respond. Like her brother, she was watching the outdoor servant as he strode across the lawn then disappeared around the side of the house in the direction of the outbuildings. Mr. Browning’s hooded gaze also followed the figure. Once the servant was out of sight, Mr. Browning suddenly glanced at his wife.

With a regal jut of her chin, Mrs. Browning picked up her glass and pretended not to notice.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“Who?”

“That man you were looking at.”

“I saw no one. Excuse me, Miss Fox. I must speak to my daughter.” She took her glass with her but left behind the plate with the untouched sandwiches.

After luncheon, Lady Kershaw gave us a tour of the garden, ending in the fernery. Plants of all varieties, shapes and sizes filled the room, many of them ferns and palms, but not all. Some had leaves as big as me reaching to the glass ceiling. A paved path meandered through the indoor oasis, past moss-covered rockeries and ponds where the silver bellies of fish flashed in the sunlight. I decided to return later with a book and sit on the bench seat sheltered by palm fronds.

A game of croquet came next, then afternoon tea, followed by a lull during which I found time to read in the fernery while the other ladies wrote letters. When the gong to dress for dinner sounded, I found my way to my room where Harmony had already laid out my evening gown, gloves, shoes, hair pieces, and jewelry. Her efficiency was born from boredom. After a triumphant stint as assistant to Floyd, organizing an important wedding reception at the Mayfair Hotel, she’d returned to maid’s duties. Although she never complained, I sensed she missed the more interesting duties of the assistant’s role. Uncle Ronald had promised her she would be allowed to organize future events but, as yet, the hotel had none booked.

She’d accompanied us to Hambledon Hall as lady’s maid to Flossy and me. After I was ready, she’d go next door to help Flossy, but until then, we could talk. Of everyone at the Mayfair Hotel—my family and the rest of the staff—Harmony was the person with whom I felt most comfortable.

I remembered to warn her about my theory that a male member of staff could be causing the maids and nannies to leave prematurely. “I think someone is upsetting them, and I presume it’s a man. Have you seen any of the men behaving terribly?”

“No, but your instincts are sharp, Cleo. Lady Bainbridge’s maid and I were warned to stay away from the gamekeeper by Lady Kershaw’s maid.” She directed me to turn around with a wiggle of her finger, but I stood rooted to the spot.

I stared at her. “If the most senior female servant, aside from the housekeeper, thought the two visiting maids ought to be warned, why is the gamekeeper still working here? It’s unacceptable.”

“You misunderstand. I don’t think he attacks anyone. He simply tries to charm them out of their petticoats. He doesn’t persist if he fails, but I think he has more successes than failures. A lot more. Then he tires of them and moves on, leaving behind a string of broken hearts. Some of them leave because of it.”

“The maids and nannies resign from perfectly good positions because they’re heartbroken?”

“Or maybe asked to resign because they’re moping about and not doing their work properly.”

This time when Harmony made a circling motion with her finger, I turned around. She proceeded to undo the buttons of my dress.

“Nannies are under the direct jurisdiction of the lady of the house, not the housekeeper,” I said, half to myself. “So in their case, at least, they must be leaving of their own accord, because Lady Kershaw made it sound as though she wasn’t dismissing them.”

Harmony agreed but had more to say about the gamekeeper’s continued employment. “His lordship should tell him to play away from the house, if he’s not prepared to dismiss him.”

“I suspect Lord Kershaw doesn’t want to broach the topic. He’s too nice.”

I saw Harmony’s lips pinch in the reflection of the dressing table mirror and decided to change the subject.

After a hearty dinner at which I overindulged in both pheasant and wine, I skipped breakfast altogether the following morning. Lady Kershaw had planned a game of tennis, but having never played, I preferred an activity in which I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. Flossy had also complained that she wasn’t very good at it, so I went in search of her after the breakfast hour to see if she wanted to go for a walk with me.

She wasn’t in her room, but Harmony was, and informed me that Flossy had gone riding with Janet Browning.

I headed along the corridor that housed several guest bedrooms and small chambers, admiring the ornate plastered ceilings, rich carpets and heavily carved furniture. Hambledon Hall’s opulence wasn’t limited to the more public spaces of the dining room and reception rooms. Even the corridor on the guest wing had a beautifully plastered ceiling of leaves and plump pomegranates running its entire length. I came across a staircase I’d never seen before. It wasn’t as grand as the double staircase in the entrance hall—which swept up two stories, highlighting a vaulted ceiling painted with an ecclesiastical scene resembling the works of Italian masters—but it was elegant nevertheless. The newel posts crowned with finials shaped like gargoyles were superbly Gothic.

My wanderings led me into another corridor I’d never seen, past closed doors. I realized I was quite lost. I paused, unable to decide whether I should try to retrace my steps or keep going, when I heard a sound coming from the only room with the door open. A maid must be inside. I’d ask her for directions.

I pushed the door open wider. “Excuse me, can you help—” I stopped abruptly when I saw it wasn’t a maid at all. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

A man dressed in the clothes of an outdoor servant stood with an open book in hand beside a low bookshelf. The room was large, but so were most of the rooms in Hambledon Hall. The walls were covered with dark wood panels from the carpet to waist height, and paintings in gilt frames depicted bucolic country scenes. The wide mahogany desk near the window gave me the biggest clue that this was Lord Kershaw’s study.

The man closed the book with a soft thud and slotted it back onto the shelf. “I was just waiting to have a word with his lordship, Miss.”

I hadn’t asked, but I supposed he felt the need to explain his presence in the study when his lordship wasn’t there. While I couldn’t be entirely certain, I was reasonably sure he was the same man Lord Kershaw and Mr. and Mrs. Browning had watched striding across the lawn the day before. Aged in his mid-forties, he had a strong build and square jaw. The flecks of gray in his thick dark hair added a dashing allure. I suspected this was the gamekeeper Harmony had told me was causing the female staff to lose their hearts.

“Miss Fox,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Shepherd.” He smiled, his countenance friendly, albeit a little too warm considering we’d just met. “I’ve seen you around. Forgive me, but I was hoping we’d meet.” He stepped closer.

I stepped back. His smile suddenly became slicker. I was even more sure he was the gamekeeper now, given his reputation. Why was he in Lord Kershaw’s study? “I saw Lord Kershaw downstairs. Do you want me to tell him you’re waiting here for him?”

He stepped closer again, and I stepped back once more. I bumped into the doorframe, having misjudged my position relative to the doorway. Mr. Shepherd’s gaze heated. He stepped forward a third time, drawing very close. I pressed my spine into the doorframe and leveled my gaze with his.

His smile turned to a smirk as he brushed past me. “Seems he’s forgotten our appointment. No matter. I’ll talk to him later.”

He strode off along the corridor. As I walked in the opposite direction, I tried to imagine myself in the position of a housemaid. Would I find Mr. Shepherd alluring enough to risk my position? I doubted it. Then again, no man compared to Harry Armitage. I could certainly no longer deny I had feelings for him, but that didn’t mean I would do something about them. I was still determined not to marry anyone, even him.

Yet sometimes, in my more melancholy moments, I wondered what my life would be like without him in it.

It was these thoughts that occupied my mind as I left the house. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice the carriage pulling away until I heard the crunch of gravel beneath its wheels. Lord Kershaw’s jowly profile was clearly visible through the window. It would seem his lordship had indeed forgotten he was supposed to meet Mr. Shepherd in his study.

The walk through the woods was invigorating, and I enjoyed being alone in the fresh air with only my thoughts for company. It was easy to forget how vivid nature could be when living in London. The grass was a vibrant shade of green, and the earthiness filled my lungs. Wind rustled the leaves far above my head, and birds twittered musically, until the sound of two men arguing sent them fluttering away.

I headed toward the men, visible through the trees. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was clear they weren’t getting along. I recognized the gamekeeper, Mr. Shepherd, but the other man had his back to me. With a gray cap covering his hair, I couldn’t even tell if he was one of the gentlemen from our party.

Mr. Shepherd suddenly laughed at something the other fellow said. It was a cruel laugh, not at all as if he were sharing a joke. The other man responded by punching the gamekeeper in the stomach.

Mr. Shepherd bent over, clutching his middle, and the other fellow strode off, heading away from me.

I decided to leave, too. Mr. Shepherd seemed winded but otherwise unharmed.

Despite my intention to leave well enough alone, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t head away from the clearing where I’d spotted the two men arguing. I circled it, hoping my path would join up with the path the other man had taken. Despite going in what I thought was the right direction, I found myself back where I started. The clearing was now empty, however.

After a lovely long walk, I decided to return to the house. The eastern tower was just visible through the trees when a gunshot rang out.

I froze. Should I hide? Run? Where had the shot come from?

Perhaps it was simply Mr. Shepherd shooting a rabbit.

I tugged on my jacket hem and continued on my way. My nerves remained taut, but I no longer thought I was going to be the next victim of a mad gunman. If Harmony were here, she’d tell me my imagination had been fueled by my experiences investigating murders and reading detective novels.

I emerged from the woods and saw a man dressed in black crouching on the driveway, alive, thankfully. It wasn’t until he stood and shouted for help that I realized a crumpled body lay at his feet. From this distance, it was impossible to see who.

As I drew closer, however, I got the feeling I’d seen those clothes quite recently. One glance at the face, frozen in shock, confirmed it was Mr. Shepherd, the gamekeeper. He’d been shot in the chest. There was no gun in the vicinity, so it wasn’t self-inflicted.

He’d been murdered.