Page 4

The house was stirring, but very quietly.

The servants were up. As she crept along the passage to the stairs—without any real reason for creeping—she vividly recalled the first time she had done so.

Less than a year ago, convinced she was in an empty house that she was so eager to rob.

While Lord Petteril had stood silently swaying on his own balcony. ..

Her stomach heaved with panic, as it did whenever she thought of that moment. She slid her fingers against his for reassurance and felt the comforting clasp of his hand. And the panic vanished.

They went downstairs hand in hand to discover that the front door had been unbolted. The servants were moving around below, talking. Something clattered and someone laughed, while the lord and lady seized cloaks from the hall stand and escaped like naughty children.

April drew the cloak hood over her hair, for icy rain drizzled through the almost- darkness.

The street lamps were still lit, although a familiar figure with his long pole could be seen ambling along the street toward the square, dousing lights as he went.

From the trees and the nearby park, birds had begun to sing in a subdued but hopeful kind of way.

For a few moments, the city seemed uniquely quiet and peaceful. Apart from themselves and the lamplighter, no one seemed to be about. Only a few of the grand houses round about were occupied at this time of the year, although by spring, the square would be much busier.

For a little, Piers and April observed from their vantage point by the front door, until the lamplighter approached, whistling softly to himself. Then they walked down the steps toward him.

He touched his wet cap without pausing his tune until April said, “Good morning. Though I suppose it’s a bit of a miserable one for such work as yours.”

The man stopped whistling. “Oh, it’s all the same to me, ma’am. A bit of rain don’t hurt me.”

“Was it not raining yesterday morning, too?”

“Oh no. Very pleasant morning yesterday. Sharp and cold, like, but dry.”

“So it was,” Piers said. “You must have passed this way at the same time yesterday morning.”

“Yes.” The man edged his feet forward, clearly wishing to get on with his work.

“I won’t keep you a moment,” Piers assured him. “We’d just like to know if you saw anyone out and about when you passed yesterday.”

The man looked at him as if he’d grown horns. “Can’t say I did. Never do, round here, except someone scrubbing steps sometimes. Or delivering milk. Don’t see the milk cart until the park though, as a rule.”

“What about a woman with a baby?” April asked.

The man’s brow creased. “What woman with a baby?”

“That’s what we’re asking you,” Piers said patiently.

“I ain’t seen no woman with a baby. Not ever round here. Sir, Missus.”

As he passed on determinedly, Piers and April exchanged glances. The whistling started up again.

“It would be too early anyway,” April said. “Janey hasn’t scrubbed the steps yet.”

A few moments later, they heard the area door open, and amidst a powerful yawn, Janey emerged with her clanking bucket and brush.

The lord and lady retreated back up the front steps, but they needn’t have worried.

Although she began at the top of the area steps, she barely looked up, sweeping and then scrubbing each step and the area below with swift brisk efficiency before vanishing inside.

She reappeared briefly to plonk an empty milk churn outside, then closed the door again with a decided snap.

No other servants had appeared to perform the same task elsewhere in the square.

But a horse and cart were approaching from the direction of the park, the clopping hooves echoing cheerfully.

The cart paused at a couple of houses. A boy leapt down each time with a small milk churn, vanished down area steps and reappeared, presumably with the empty churn from yesterday.

It was a larger churn the boy hauled off when the cart stopped at Petteril House.

April and Piers descended once more, veering apart at the foot of the front steps, Piers moving toward the driver of the cart while April went to the area gate to accost the boy, who was already leaping up the steps with his empty churn.

His mouth fell open when he saw April blocking his path and he nearly fell back down the steps.

April smiled. “I believe my maid told you off yesterday for muddying her clean step. I thought I should apologize.”

The boy blinked, then grinned and jerked his head downward toward the area. “Oh, she don’t worry me none. I get worse. And I’ve muddied her step again.”

April pushed a coin into his hand. “You can’t help that. You do a good job.” While his eyes were still wide with appreciation at such largesse, she said, “Tell me, did you see a woman with a baby around here yesterday when you were delivering the milk around the square?”

“Never see anyone this time of year, not around here this early in the morning.”

“Not even from the other side of the square? Or further along the road perhaps?”

The boy did her the courtesy of thinking about it, but in the end he only shrugged apologetically.

“When you say you never see anyone, you saw my maid, didn’t you? Weren’t there any other maids telling you off or having a joke with you? Other people passing in the street?”

The boy scratched his head. “Didn’t see anyone. Only got one other customer over there...” He pointed across the square. “And I didn’t see anyone along that way after.”

“What about anyone other than residents?” April asked with fading hope. “Any other carts, carriages, messengers?”

“Didn’t notice any,” the boy said with a hint of anxiety. He thrust his hand into his pocket as though afraid she would try to take her coin back.

“My thanks,” April said. “You’ve helped me a lot.”

The boy looked startled as he leapt back on the cart. Piers had already stepped back beside April, and the horse trotted forward.

“Anything?” Piers murmured.

“No. You?”

“No. But they were a few minutes earlier yesterday. Our mother and child were probably not yet on the scene. I think I’ll take a stroll up toward the park on this fine morning.”

“Then I’ll take a turn about the square. It must wake up soon.”

Piers, who had had the foresight to bring a hat, ambled off toward the park. April set off in the opposite direction, but despite the lighter sky, she walked twice around the square without seeing anyone at all.

She was just returning toward the house again when she heard soft, breathless singing drifting over from the far side of the square. A maid had just emerged from the front door of one of the houses there and was using a broom to sweep the step and the short path.

April swerved back across the square. For the first time that morning, she felt uncertain, even nervous.

The chances were, the neighbouring servants would recognize her as Lady Petteril and know that their mistresses would not receive her—the viscountess being no better born than the girl sweeping the step.

Worse, if only they knew it.

“Morning, miss,” the maid called as she caught sight of April’s approach.

Encouraged by the fact the girl had not addressed her as “my lady,” or “your ladyship,” April said, “Good morning. I wonder if you could help me?”

“I’ll certainly try,” the girl said willingly.

“I need to find a woman who passed this way around this time yesterday morning. You might have seen her across the square.”

“What, at Lord Petteril’s house? I believe they are in residence.”

“Oh, this woman was not one of the family, or even a servant, though you might have seen her at the tradesmen’s door. She may or may not have had a...a bundle with her.”

The maid noddled wisely. “Beggar, was she?”

“Actually, I’ve no idea, but I need to find her because she left something behind, and her ladyship wishes to return it to her.”

“That’s kind of her ladyship,” the girl said doubtfully. “I’d wait for her to come back and get it, meself.”

“Oh well, you know...”

“Didn’t see anyone though,” the maid said in what was becoming a familiar refrain.

“Are your master and mistress in residence?” April asked.

“Not until March, though the rest of the staff will come up next month to do the spring clean for their arrival.”

“Are any of the other houses occupied just now?”

“Well, there’s Mr. Darcy, the son of the house, two doors down—regular rakehell, he is, so I heard. I don’t think his servants need to exert themselves much on his account.”

Meaning neither he nor his staff would have been up and about early enough to see whoever left the baby on the Petteril doorstep.

“It’s a bit like finding a needle in a haystack,” April admitted.

“I can imagine,” the girl said sympathetically. “They get silly ideas in their heads, some of the Quality do. Tell, you what, though, miss, you want to talk to their coachman.”

April, about to move on, froze. “Lord Petteril’s coachman?”

“Yes, the coach was waiting just at their gate... No, wait, come to think of it, it had no crest.” She beamed as though in triumph. “In fact, it was a hackney cab, ’cause it had a number.”

“A hackney cab stopped at Petteril House?” April said, straightening her shoulders. Really, this was more promising! “Yesterday morning about this time?”

“Must have been,” the girl said. “I was doing the step and the brasses—’cause some people—” She jerked her head toward the front door and lowered her voice, “...insist on maintaining appearances, even when the knocker’s off the door.”

The absence of the knocker was a sign that the householders were not in residence. April was more interested in the cab.

“Did you see who arrived in the hackney?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Could have been your woman, I suppose, though seems odd to me to travel by hackney and not go to the front door. I didn’t see her—carriage blocked my view.”

Of course it did.

“ Might have been a lady,” the maid mused. “’Cause the jarvey did get down. Must have been to open the door for someone. Probably wouldn’t have bothered for a man.”

“I suppose you couldn’t see through the carriage window?” April said hopefully. “Or see whether he was dropping someone off or picking someone up?”

“Couldn’t really tell.” Again, she jerked her head toward her own front door. “His nibs was trying to hurry me up. He’ll be doing it again, soon.”

“I’d better not cause you any trouble. Thanks for your help. Oh, if you remember anything else, or see anyone odd hanging about the Petterils’ house, would you mind just knocking on their door and speaking to Mrs. Park the housekeeper?”

“Right you are, miss,” said the maid cheerfully, sweeping a swarm of damp dust and mud into the gutter.

April sneezed.