Page 83 of The Housekeeper's Secret
He hadn’t meant for any of it to be like this.
All the things he had intended to say were scattered now. They made no sense. The restless purpose that had driven him before had dissolved and it seemed like a miracle to find himself there in the early hours of Christmas morning, with her hair like silk across his chest and her skin warm against his. A shiver of reflexive pleasure convulsed him as he remembered her mouth on his flesh, the expression of abstracted intensity on her face as she’d looked up at him.
How could he leave?
But then he thought of the jewel that he had picked up from the library floor. The same jewel that the policeman had described; the one that Jack was supposed to have stolen but was securely hidden away in Sir Randolph’s safe.
How could he stay?
The candle was almost burned out. The last of its light glinted on the chatelaine beside it, a puddle of silver. His eyes came to rest on it, and he examined the idea that was forming in his mind; tentatively, like someone probing an aching tooth. The prospect of getting up, of leaving the warmth of the bed and relinquishing her delicious body, was unappealing in the extreme, but this was his last chance to prove Jack wasn’t a thief, that he hadn’t disappeared voluntarily. If Jem had the jewel, Henderson’s story would be proved a lie and Hollinshead would have to investigate what had really happened that night, wouldn’t he?
Love was a physical ache in his chest. With infinite care, he drew the blanket more securely over Kate and slid out of bed, dropping a kiss on her pearly shoulder. The cold wrapped around him as he dressed in the clothes that had been so quickly, so eagerly discarded. It made his fingers stiff as he picked up her chatelaine and unclipped the ring of keys from its chain.
He blew out the guttering candle and paused to look back at Kate. She slept on, her inky hair spilling over the pillow, her face softened by sleep. In the cold, clear, Christmas sky, the moon was bright enough to cast sooty shadows on her cheeks beneath the sweep of her lashes. He had to grit his teeth and steel himself not to slip back into the bed beside her, to make the most of the precious, secret hours they had before dawn. It was only the thought of being with her properly once this was all over that allowed him to tiptoe from the room.
He would ask her tomorrow. Somehow, he would find the time, even if he had to request, in front of the others, to talk to her alone in the housekeeper’s parlour. He was so tired of the petty rules and invisible barriers of the servants’ hall. He was so tired of all the things that he knew and felt and wanted being obliterated by duty, and of having to surrender everything that mattered for twenty-eight pounds a year. Once he had the jewel he would go to Scotland Yard, where the officers weren’t in the pocket of Randolph Hyde at the big house, and he would say what Mullins had told him and hand over the emerald Jack was supposed to have stolen. And then he would set about finding work somewhere he and Kate could be together, where no one knew them. He could go back to working with horses, on an estate where they’d have a cottage of their own. She could have his name, even if they couldn’t marry. He would keep her safe and devote his life to making her happy. If only she would come with him.
Dear God, he would move heaven and earth to make her happy, if he was lucky enough to have the chance.
He hadn’t dared risk putting shoes on and his bare feet made no sound on the icy flags of the basement passage. The moonlight spilled across the floor like thin blue buttermilk, making it easy to see what he was doing. It was only the cold, and the burden of his own guilt that hampered him. It felt wrong to be unlocking the housekeeper’s parlour with Kate’s keys and slipping into the room that was her domain. Like a violation.
He pushed the uncomfortable thought away, avoiding his own spectral reflection in the mirror as he stole across to the desk and lit the lamp. Unwillingly, he recalled that midsummer afternoon when he had stood in the same place and some latent sense of honour had made him dismiss the idea of doing exactly what he was doing now. He had wanted to be better than this. To be worthy of her.
He still wanted that.
Once he was done, he would go back to his room and collect the dragonfly brooch he’d hidden in his pack. A Christmas present. The thought offered a faint glow of consolation as he unlocked the drawer of her desk. There were so many keys, but each one had a small ivory tag bearing the name of the room, or a paper one for the cupboards, trunks, and chests. It didn’t take him long to find the one for the library, and he had just shut the drawer and locked it when a noise set his heart hammering.
He didn’t have to turn round. In the mirror above the desk, he watched the door open, letting in moonlight.
And Frederick Henderson.
Chapter 28
‘I have to hand it to you, Arden. You’re very persistent.’
Henderson came forward, his movements unhurried. ‘Or should that be, very stupid? You don’t know when to stop, do you? You just can’t see that you’re beaten.’
‘That’s because I’m not.’
Jem spoke through a clenched jaw, surprised at how steady his voice was. Despite the biting cold, he was sweating.
Henderson laughed softly. ‘I’ve known for months who you are. I worked it out soon after you arrived. Do you really think I’d have let you stay all this time if I suspected there was the slightest chance that you could do any damage? It’s been quite entertaining watching you scramble for crumbs, but I would have had you sent on your way if I’d thought you’d find anything. Or done a proper job on you that night, back in the summer. I admit, I was tempted… I almost got carried away.’
Jem remembered. His ribs still ached with remembering.
‘Just as well you managed to stop yourself. You were lucky enough to get away with one dead servant at Coldwell. Another one might be harder to cover up.’
He put it out there to test Henderson’s reaction. The way his face hardened, his eyes narrowing and lower jaw jutting, told Jem everything he didn’t want to know.
‘Watch your mouth, Arden. I wouldn’t go throwing baseless accusations around if I were you. Your brother was a grubby little nobody. A common thief. The constabulary conducted a search of the house and park and came to the obvious conclusion that he’d made off with a very valuable jewel, which he had been trusted to wear for a special occasion.’ He shook his head with exaggerated regret. ‘So difficult to find honest servants. They’re the criminal class, aren’t they? Boys like him—they can’t help themselves. They learn it at their mother’s knee.’
Jem’s fists shook, his clenched fingers burning and pulsing with the urge to throw a punch. He heard, in some distant part of his mind, Kate’s voice. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Except’—his voice was hoarse—‘except the jewel he’s supposed to have stolen is here, isn’t it? Upstairs, in the safe.’
Henderson wasn’t expecting that. Jem saw it on his face, the flash of surprise and a split-second of uncertainty. He recovered quickly, changing tack with a nonchalant shrug.
‘Do you really think anyone will believe you if you say that? Especially as you appear to be cut from the same coarse cloth as your brother.’ He nodded at Kate’s keys lying on the desk, and triumph glinted in his eyes. ‘Unless, of course, the lovely Mrs Furniss handed those over herself?’