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SOPHIE CHECKED HER watch. It had thankfully been a quiet day. Edwina had received a message from Frank that he was at the hospital and the doctors had decided to reassess him and understand for themselves what steep a battle he faced.
Morgan had no incidences to report during the nightshift and Raquel looked far more rested having given in and taken up a room in the floor below the family wing. She would install a stairlift for her but, knowing Raquel, she would walk up the stairs and ride it down them to prove a point. Maybe she should enlist Morgan’s assistance?
Evening was beginning to draw in through her office window and she flicked through the pile of bills and letters. Three complaints about the conference centre being locked at night, one complaint that the Hayfield mustard was not strong enough, one request for a school visit, five bills, and one letter from Richard Bright.
She sliced it open, then pulled out her phone and dialled The Recluse.
“Darl, you called at the perfect moment.” The Recluse sounded delighted. “I have a lot of information from Rhys you might like to hear.”
Was she sure she wanted to hear it?
“Rhys has told me that Mead likes supplying the workforce for Bright housing.” Someone whimpered in the background. “And that Bright has Councillor Doyle in his pocket in return for promotion and backing.”
Sophie had long harboured suspicions of Bright and Doyle but Mead? It made sense. Did Bright know they weren’t merely looking for deeds or surveying?
“I want it in writing.” Morgan would want it for the authorities.
“Darl, I don’t think he’s in a condition to write anything.” The Recluse laughed and someone whimpered again. “There’s an extra slice for you though.”
“Which is?” She stared at the letter from Bright.
“Bright doesn’t own his company outright. In fact, he lost the majority about six months ago. I had the kid check it out.” The Recluse let out a satisfied sigh.
“To whom has he lost his shares?” She trailed the letter opener down the paper.
“Howard Salisbury.” The Recluse was smiling, it was clear through her words. “Bet your trophy can work with that slice of delicious.”
“Yes, as always you excel yourself. Are you able to return quickly?” She didn’t like the kid being away from The Recluse’s watchful eyes.
“Already halfway back, Darl. Good to know I’m missed.” She hung up.
Sophie depressed the button on her desk. “Fr—Edwina?”
“Yes, Sophie.” Edwina was far more efficient in spite of double the duties.
“Has Morgan dressed for duty yet?” Morgan liked to try and work longer hours as if that somehow made everyone ignorant to their relationship. It seemed to ease her conscience if Sophie contacted her as per household process.
“No, I believe she went into the town to pick something up. She went about fifteen minutes ago?” Edwina said it as though Sophie would know this.
She’d told Morgan not to leave . . . or was she leaving because her conscience had won out? She strode from her office and into the library.
“Dear aunt?” she said gently as Raquel fluttered open her eyes.
“Yes, my girl. Why are you looking harried?” Raquel slipped on her glasses.
“Did you send Morgan to the flat to retrieve anything for you?” She tried to keep her voice calm but there was a rumble through it as Morgan would call it.
“No, I haven’t seen her since we chatted yesterday.” Raquel narrowed her eyes. “Have you scared her again?”
“No.” She had been so busy trying to reallocate some of Frank’s duties with Edwina, that she hadn’t so much as noticed Morgan hadn’t texted her. Usually at some point she did. “Did she say anything to you yesterday?”
“You are panicking. It is unnerving me.” Raquel pursed her lips. “She asked me about Eugenie and my thoughts. She knew much of it because you had told her so she was more concerned how she should support you.”
“I told her simply what has already been suspected of me.” She closed her eyes. Morgan had been different during the night, but she’d assumed it was her worry over Frank or Matthews.
Raquel pursed her lips further and scowled. “Oh, the wordsmith.” She clunked her stick to the floor. “Then unfortunately, I confirmed her suspicions.”
“Then she has run.” Sophie gripped the doorpost, took deep breaths, and turned before her anger spilled out. It wasn’t Raquel’s fault. She closed the door only to see the kid.
“She hasn’t,” the kid said, lowering her voice. “Someone called her and she looked upset. She went to meet them in the local pub.”
“Can you find out what they said?” It was the least intrusive way she could think of putting her mind at ease.
“Yes.” The kid cocked her head. “But I got the name Wood, I got that it was about someone called Trin and that if she didn’t meet Wood then they’d arrest someone . . . I didn’t get that bit because if I followed her any closer, she’d have shrieked.” She rolled her eyes. “Why does she shriek so much?”
“She didn’t grow up in a tropical jungle with your mother and me.” She glanced back at the library door. “Will you keep me informed of when she is back on the premises?”
The kid winked. “You know, some kids might have issues about helping you ignore their mum and follow other women.”
Sophie laughed. “Your mother is not the kind who courts a relationship. A partnership in keeping you out of trouble, yes, but she is free and wishes to remain that way.”
“If she doesn’t want you, why is she running around helping you?” The kid folded her brawny arms. She had climbed trees as a child but unlike other children, she’d climbed trees the size of the manor.
“We’re a partnership but in a . . .” How did she explain it? What had she used before when the kid was a child? “In the sense of when someone strayed near our home, do you remember?”
“I remember you taking it in turns, distracting them while the other attacked.” The kid frowned. “Are you attacking Morgan?”
“No. Our goal right now is to fend off an attack. When your mother has finished helping me, she will hunger for the trouble she likes to get herself into.” Sophie fussed over the kid’s uniform. Her shirt needed to be a size bigger but suspected that too tight may be the point.
“I don’t really want that.” The kid jutted out her chin. “I don’t like moving all the time.”
No, unlike Sophie and The Recluse, the closest the kid had come to a stable home was in that hideout deep in the tropics.
“We will discuss this with her when she returns, yes?” She fussed with the kid’s unruly hair, golden like The Recluse’s but thicker with a wave through it.
“Like she’ll listen.” The kid rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Malcom can’t cope with watching the gate alone so I’d better make sure he didn’t let anyone in.”
Sophie nodded.
The kid turned and strode off, shoulders hunched forward slightly like it was more a prowl. The Recluse would not take well to her wishing to remain in one place well.
Sophie sighed. Unlike Morgan, it was far harder to argue with The Recluse . . . and she knew how to handle a sword.