12
She was cold to the touch.
He would have worried about her constitution if her eyes weren't so fierce and focused.
"Mistress?"
He'd guided her back to the inn, past the rowdy drunks now slumped at the bar, and up to her room. He'd coaxed the fire back to life and urged her to sit.
Her eyes were distant, but not glazed over. Rather, she looked thoughtful. This made him even more nervous. "Mistress?" he tried again.
She blinked several times before her whisky eyes slid to meet his. "In the morning, we will ask if anyone in the village has seen him," she said slowly, her voice thoughtful. "If our search turns up fruitless, we will travel to the home of his most recent commission."
Jasper was visibly upset, and Bella watched as the young man fell back onto the floor, his knees coming up to his chest, his elbows resting on his bent legs as he settled his face in his palms.
"We just saw…" He paused and a shudder went through him.
Bella swallowed hard. "I know," she whispered.
He glanced up at her, his sapphire eyes glossy with tears unshed. "Shouldn't we tell someone?"
Bella nodded. "Yes, we should."
Neither of them moved.
"You are a very brave lady, mistress."
Bella offered him a thin smile. "I've known death many times," she said gently. "I'm no stranger to it."
Jasper shuddered at such a notion. He had never seen a corpse before, at least, not one so decayed. He had once accompanied his master to the home of an old man who had died moments before their arrival. It had not nearly been the same experience.
"What does it mean?" he asked, looking up at Mistress Masen again. "Why are graves being dug up?" Jasper pressed, clarifying. He shook his head, his eyes drifting from Mistress Masen to his hands, to the rafters above his head before coming back to her. "What is the purpose of such…" his voice trailed off, and he felt tears sting the back of his eyes.
This was evil, plain and simple, and in his young years, the apprentice had never known anything like it.
Both were quiet, lost in their own thoughts, the sound of the popping and crackling fire the only noise to be found.
Finally, the coffin maker's wife spoke.
"We need to go to the home of Lady Catherine," she said after a moment, her brow dipping. "My heart tells me she is somehow involved in this."
Jasper frowned, pulling himself out of his troubling thoughts. "The countess?"
Bella turned to him, her eyes finding him again. "Yes."
Jasper considered this. He'd never met the countess, though he'd heard many stories of her, of course. She was a great woman, respected and feared in equal measure. Meeting her would be perhaps as close to meeting the King as he'd ever get in his life. Surely, someone with such great power would have answers. Wouldn't they?
"You know the countess?" he asked again, wanting to be sure he was clear.
Bella shook her head. "She sent a valet who called upon my husband." She frowned lightly. "I've never met her."
Jasper felt his hope plummet. They were going to head to the home of a woman who had more power than they ever would in this life, unannounced and without any sort of established relationship with her? They could be killed for such informality.
Bella sat up before he could voice his concerns. "Please go downstairs and let someone know about the sight we uncovered in the cemetery," she said gently. "I need to bathe and then rest."
Jasper stood, understanding he was being dismissed. He left her room, and Bella let out a long sigh. She wasn't sure Lady Catherine would have answers for her, but she suspected that the countess was involved in this plot, even if she was unaware of it. It seemed too suspicious of timing that her man would arrive on their doorstep only days before these foul acts began.
Bella felt her stomach roil at the thought of having to traverse the path ahead of her, and she crossed her room to pick up her earlier abandoned cup of tea. The ginger and peppermint warmed her, despite the fact the tea was ice cold, and she felt her stomach start to settle.
One way or another, she would soon have answers.