Chapter
Seventeen

Daniel couldn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

The second footman normally kept his eyes straight forward on such occasions, but on this one, he couldn’t help but shift his gaze just enough to look around at the others lining the walls—his fellow footman, Jonathan; the maids, Agnes and Becky, drafted into service to help the footmen at this supposedly informal barn “luncheon”—and he could see from the slightest shifts in their typical eyes-straight-ahead-seeing-nothing stances that none of them could believe it, either.

Apparently, someone—that valet of the duke’s, Parker, whom Daniel had met only briefly—had tried to attack Lady Katherine and then Lady Elizabeth, and the latter had shot him dead.

Daniel couldn’t believe that young Lady Elizabeth, whom he had taught how to use a shotgun only just a short time ago, had already employed it in such a deadly fashion, nor could he believe how gleeful they all seemed about it; he couldn’t imagine, if Lady Grace were here, that she would react this way. Although at least, to Lady Elizabeth’s credit, as they talked on and on, her expression had turned from one of eagerness to something resembling dismay at the role she’d played.

But then, after Parker was dead, apparently they’d all stepped over his body and come here for their luncheon!

“Well,” Lady Katherine said now, “it’s not like the body wasn’t going to keep for a bit. What shall we do with it, anyway? Should we send it somewhere?” She turned to Raymond Allen. “Duke, do you know who his people were?”

Daniel had noticed that in addition to Lady Elizabeth’s occasional expressions of dismay, the duke looked appropriately disturbed by what had happened. Daniel supposed it could be that it was his valet who’d been involved, but Daniel didn’t think it was as simple as that. Perhaps there was more depth to the duke than Daniel had glimpsed upon first meeting him the night before? Or perhaps, even, there was greater depth to the duke than the duke saw in himself?

“To my knowledge,” the duke answered with some sadness, “he hadn’t any, so—”

“That’s that, then,” Lady Katherine said brightly. “And then,” she said, eyes flashing as she returned to her recounting of what had gone on before, “Father banished the stable boy, told him not to show his face on the place again before tomorrow.”

“The nerve of that boy!” the earl said heatedly. “He was trying to follow us here. He said he was sure we weren’t safe. As if we needed him for protection!”

“Only you, Father,” Lady Katherine said, “would tell a stable boy he couldn’t come to a barn!”

“He did save Kate’s life,” Lady Elizabeth pointed out.

“Yes,” Lady Katherine said, sobering, “I suppose he did.” But that sobering lasted for only the briefest of instants before she was off again, laughing in her way about some other “madcap” aspect of the day.

Daniel really couldn’t believe these people. But then, when he thought about it for a moment, he could. He, like the others he toiled with Downstairs, had seen and therefore knew all too much about the people he served overhead, while they knew precious little about those down below.

A man had died, and here they were all laughing over their luncheon. Well, most of them, at any rate. And were Lady Grace here, he was sure, she wouldn’t be laughing, either. Still…

What a farce it all was! They’d gone on their little hunt, as they would do when guests came for the weekend, shooting at animals for sport—although he couldn’t say that was completely wrong, since they did always eventually eat whatever they shot. Of course he supposed that wouldn’t be the case today, since all that had been shot was a man. But then, after their shooting, they would come here to this “barn” for their luncheon, as though it somehow meant they were roughing it by not going back to the house for their midday meal.

Daniel himself had roughed it in the war, every day he’d fought in it, and this in no way resembled that. The Upstairs version of “roughing it” still included a long table covered with a fine cloth and set with linen, crystal, and silver. Not to mention the servants—Jonathan, Agnes and Becky, him—called into service to wait upon them.

Once more, Daniel briefly shifted his straight-ahead gaze to glance at his fellow servants: Jonathan, who was never too happy to lose to Daniel at cards, which he usually did, and yet who was always willing to play another hand; Agnes, whose job it was to tend to Lady Katherine and who did so more staunchly than any general protecting his country; and Becky, who waited attendance on both the younger daughters of the house and whom Daniel sometimes thought, when he thought about a future in which he would have marriage and family, might be the person he would have those things with. After all, who might he ever marry but another servant? He couldn’t help but think that if war ever came to Porthampton Abbey, he’d rather have these three by his side to fight—come to that, throw in Fanny and Mrs. Owen—than all of Upstairs and their fancy guests put together. Well, maybe he’d want Lady Grace by his side, too, not that he imagined she’d be much use in a fight, but he couldn’t see abandoning someone decent like her to the devices of the useless lot she’d grown up with.

Here they sat at their long table—Lady Katherine at one end, her father at the other, with Dr. Webb, Benedict Clarke, the duke, and Lady Elizabeth between them—consuming their “roughing it” meal, which consisted of what exactly? Cucumber sandwiches, cold turkey, asparagus tart, poached salmon, scones, blancmange, lemonade, ginger beer, lemon barley water, Turkish coffee. Oh, and a chocolate soufflé. A chocolate soufflé! Could anything be more ridiculous than that?

Even in a barn—a barn!—these people expected everything to be perfect.

Well—Daniel sighed internally—it wasn’t for him to judge. All he needed to do was make sure his eyes were facing forward, that his expression showed none of what he was feeling, and to simply act his part.

Which was what he was doing when Mr. Wright entered the barn, the old man huffing slightly after his trek down from the house. Propped on his hand was a silver salver with some piece of paper on it. Daniel wondered it hadn’t blown away in the day’s strong wind. But then he thought ruefully, Not even a folded sheet of paper would think to defy old Wright.

Mr. Wright stopped just inside the entry, waiting to be noticed.

“Yes, Wright,” the earl said. “What is it?”

“A call came for Dr. Webb,” the butler announced, “and I have taken the message down for him.”

“Well,” His Lordship said, “bring it over, then.”

The butler obeyed, and Dr. Webb removed the piece of paper from the silver plate, unfolded it.

He started to read, his brow furrowing as he did so. At last, he looked up.

“Apparently, I’m needed in the village,” Dr. Webb said. “I’m sure it’s nothing, really. There’s been some small disturbance there caused by a sick woman. She refuses to come in to my surgery and they’ve called for me.”