13
Whitehall Manor was an extraordinary estate, about two days' ride from the home of the coffin maker and his wife. Bella and the young apprentice were already halfway along their journey, so the next morning after conducting an as thorough as they could manage investigation of the villiage—which yielded them nothing but suspicion from the locals—they set out for the estate.
The coffin maker's wife was quiet, and her young companion looked upon her in secret, wondering after the state of his mistress's spirits. She seemed solemn, which he understood, but there was a determined look upon her face that he admired. Mistress Masen was a formidable woman, and it was clear she would not rest until her husband was safe at home.
The dog wandered the trail between them as they rode on from the village, entering the woods once more. Mistress Masen seemed to know where they were going, which was useful, as Jasper had no idea.
When the sun was overhead, Jasper and the coffin maker's wife stopped to let the horses drink. The dog busied himself sniffing bushes and chasing after small forest creatures.
"It may be past dark by the time we arrive at Whitehall."
Jasper looked up at Bella, who was busy gazing at the small stream the horses drank from.
"Should we make camp before that?"
Jasper didn't think he'd be successful in keeping everyone safe and on the move once night fell.
Bella shook herself, seeming to snap out of her thoughts. "Nonsense," she said, her tone dismissive. "It will be far safer for us to reach our destination by tonight."
Jasper frowned. "What if…" He stopped, and when Mistress Masen looked up at him expectantly, he took a deep breath and released it before continuing. "What if they do not receive us at Whitehall?"
"Then, my dear Jasper, we shall convince them."
…
It was past dark as the coffin maker's wife had suspected when they approached the grounds of Whitehall. In the growing dimness, the manor glowed with a brilliance that was unviewable in the daylight. Though not every window blazed, enough shone against the darkness of the night to lighten the grounds beyond the front doors.
Bella dismounted her horse, glancing back at Jasper as he did the same.
"I will go in," she told him. "Wait here for me."
He wanted to protest, but Jasper knew better. This was how it should be done.
So rather than follow his mistress, he took the reins of Bella's horse and waited.
Bella took a deep breath, gathering her courage, strength, and determination.
Collecting her skirts in her hands, she started up the manor steps toward the grand double entrance.
Bella brought her fist to the thick oak doors, putting enough force behind her knock to be heard. She waited, her anxious hands smoothing the front of her simple frock down. Under different circumstances, she would have dressed more appropriately to meet the countess.
But the situation was growing more dire with every coffin unturned, and Bella didn't have time to slow down for formalities.
She would simply have to make do.
She was about to bring her fist up to knock again when the sound of heavy iron locks turning stopped her. A moment later, the door was being opened, and an older gentleman with greying hair and a finely tailored suit opened the door.
"Madame," he said in acknowledgment.
Bella took a deep breath. "My name is Isabella Masen. I'm here to beg an audience with Lady Catherine."
The man hesitated but then inclined his head. "Please enter, Mistress Masen."
She stepped past the threshold, quickly taking in her surroundings before turning back to the butler. "My companion is outside with our horses."
The butler nodded. "Of course. I'll have someone tend to them. Please come through to the parlor."
He motioned her forward, and she followed him, her leather boots making soft squeaks on the highly polished wood floor. The parquet was inlaid with alabaster, making her eyes dizzy if she gazed down at the flooring. Her eyes lifted, searching around the room as the butler led her into the parlor. Both the grand entrance as well as the sitting room were resplendent, draped in details of opulence and grandeur. She was certain there was more wealth here than her entire village had ever seen.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," the butler said, motioning toward a low settee. Bella nodded and fluffed her crumbled skirt before taking a seat. The butler left, and with his departure, Bella could not stop herself from standing and investigating the room.
There was an sleek clock above the mantel, rich in its design, that drew her forward.
She'd never seen a clock with a glass door that showed the inner workings of the mechanics inside, and she was lost in amazement to gaze upon such delicate and precise machinery.
Oh, how she wished she could design such elegance.
She watched the gears click forward, her eyes desperately trying to track the perfectly choreographed dance that let the clock tick on. It was some of the most beautiful work she'd ever seen.
"That was a gift from my late husband."
Bella turned to see a woman dressed in blue silk at the door. She was aged, her white hair carefully pulled back from her face in an intricate updo. There was powder on her face, making her appear younger than she was, but Bella could see from one glance at the woman's hands that she was well on in years.
"My Lady," Bella said, dropping into a deep curtsy. Lady Catherine motioned for her to stand, and Bella looked back at the clock. "It is a stunning piece."
Lady Catherine's eyes traveled to the mantel. "Thomas was rather fond of mechanics," she said slowly. "He believed them to be dignified perfection, proof of God's masterful design."
Bella smiled. "I would agree with your late husband," she admitted.
Lady Catherine's pale eyes flickered to her. "Mistress Masen, the hour is late, and I do not know you. Please explain to me why you have come to call."
Bella turned away from the clock, taking a careful breath. Lady Catherine moved across the room to sit on a sofa, and Bella moved back to the settee.
"My husband is Edward Masen, the coffin maker."
Lady Catherine showed no sign of recognition, but Bella had to believe that was just for show. She continued on. "Four days ago, he disappeared from our home." Bella paused, watching the countess' face. Still, Lady Catherine showed no signs of recognition.
"Mistress Masen, you are young, but surely you are not too young to know that a beautiful face at home is often not enough to keep a man from wandering."
Bella immediately bristled at the implication. "My husband is a faithful man," she said, her lips tight to keep her anger in. "The last caller we had before his disappearance was a man of your estate."
At this, Lady Catherine shifted, her gaze flickering away. "I see not how this pertains to me."
Bella took a breath. "A man comes to my home, and the next day my husband has vanished."
Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying some sort of foul play?"
Bella shook her head. "No, I don't believe that to be the case. But the timing cannot be a mere coincidence. Whatever your man spoke to my husband, it has since led to his disappearance."
Lady Catherine shook her head. "This has nothing to do with me. What is more, now that I have heard word of the coffin maker's disappearance, I shall be forced to seek accommodations elsewhere."
Bella opened her mouth, desperate to make the woman understand when the doors to the parlor banged open.
The countess let out a startled shriek, and Bella's hand immediately flew to her waist where a small blade was tucked into her skirts.
"Jasper," Bella cried when she saw the boy's winded face.
"Mistress, in the village!" he gasped. "More graves have been unearthed."
"What in heavens is the meaning of this?" Lady Catherine demanded.
Jasper continued on, ignoring her. "What is more, there is a band of thugs spotted robbing the graves. One is described to be your husband."