The minute Cecily arrived back at the Pennyfoot she asked Philip if there was news of Baxter.
The puny desk clerk swept a fringe of gray hair back from his forehead with his thumb. “Not a peep, m’m, I’m afraid to say.”
It was no more than she’d expected. Even so, she found it hard to suppress the rush of disappointment and fear. “Thank you, Philip. I shall be in my office if you need me.”
“Yes, m’m.” As she turned away, he added, “I’m so sorry, m’m. Mr. Baxter was a proper gentleman. Not many like him out there.”
“He’s not dead, Philip,” she said sharply. “He’s simply missing, that’s all.”
“Oh, yes, m’m, indeed, m’m. I only meant—”
Relenting, she forced a smile. “Never mind, Philip. I know you meant to be kind.”
Philip’s thin face twitched. “He’ll be back, m’m, you’ll see.”
“I hope and pray for that.” She left, before the threatening tears had a chance to fall.
Once inside her office, she allowed herself the luxury of shedding a few tears, but only for a moment or two. After dabbing her moist cheeks with a handkerchief, she picked up the telephone and asked the operator to put in a call to Kevin Prestwick.
Fortunately he was between patients, and before long she heard his calming voice on the phone. “Cecily? Has Baxter returned?”
“Oh, how I wish.” She paused to steady her voice before adding, “I have a question for you.” Quickly she recounted her visit to Whitfield Manor and the conversation that took place. “Is it possible,” she asked at length, “that Mr. Hargrove could have been hung by his collar on a tree by accident?”
“There is no question in my mind,” Kevin answered. “The bruises around the victim’s throat are consistent with pressure from someone’s fingers. Gavin Hargrove was deliberately strangled.” His voice became stern. “What, may I ask, were you doing by yourself at Whitfield Manor? All things considered, that could have been extremely dangerous.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Cecily assured him. “Samuel was by my side the whole time.”
“Samuel should not be gallivanting around the countryside with that head injury. Neither should you be taking such extraordinary risks. I’m quite sure if Baxter were there he would have absolutely forbidden you to go.”
“No doubt,” Cecily said tartly. “And it would have done him no good at all. For heaven’s sake, Kevin. You are being just as tiresome as my husband.”
“For good reason, apparently.” Kevin’s sigh echoed down the line. “Please, Cecily, do try to use some common sense. Losing one of you is quite enough for the present.”
“I do wish everyone would stop talking about Baxter as if he were dead! As I keep telling everyone…” She caught back the sob, but Kevin must have heard it anyway.
“Cecily.”
When she didn’t answer he repeated her name more urgently. “Cecily, please, try to remain calm. I never meant to imply that Baxter is dead. Your husband is a strong and resourceful man, and I’m quite sure that he will return to you in due time.”
How she wished she could be so positive. “Thank you, Kevin. You will be among the first to know when that happens.”
“I certainly hope so.” He hesitated, then added, “Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps another powder to help you rest?”
“Thank you, but no.” She let out her breath. “I have work to do and I need a clear head.” Bidding him good-bye, she replaced the phone on its hook.
After staring at rows of figures that seemed determined to run into each other, she gave up her attempts to balance the books. Slamming the heavy ledger closed, she sat back in her chair.
She’d been too easily swayed by the affable Randall Thorpe and Naomi. Now that she thought about it, they had been remarkably eager to convince her that Gavin Hargrove’s death was an accident.
She remembered the look they had exchanged when she’d mentioned the gambling debts and Northcott’s intention to hand the case over to Scotland Yard. She’d assumed at the time that they would prefer that the sordid details didn’t come to light, thus protecting Gavin’s reputation.
Then again, since neither of them seemed to be mourning his death, why would they worry about his reputation?
She’d left too soon, she decided. There were questions still unanswered. Remembering the nervous little housekeeper, she wondered if perhaps she would learn more from her. There was only one way to find out. Reaching for the bell pull, she tugged it.
Seconds later, Pansy answered her summons.
“Please tell Samuel I’ll need the carriage again,” she told the maid. “As soon as possible. Advise me as soon as it’s ready.”
“Yes, m’m.”
Pansy disappeared, and Cecily glanced at the clock. The hours were speeding by and still no sign of Baxter. “Where are you, Hugh?” she whispered out loud. “You must come back to me. You simply must.”
She needed something to eat. It would help keep up her spirits. She had enough time to pay a visit to the kitchen before Samuel would have the carriage ready again.
Reaching the top of the kitchen stairs, she was about to descend when a familiar voice hailed her.
“Cecily, dear! I had no idea you were back!”
Curbing her impatience, she turned to greet Phoebe. Colonel Fortescue hovered behind his wife, his red nose bearing testimony to the amount of spirits he’d consumed.
“Tally ho, old girl!” he roared. “Off to the woodsh again, what? What? We’re going to hunt for another silver fox, aren’t we, my little pet?”
Phoebe rolled her eyes at Cecily. “Dressed up in riding clothes, I suppose.” Turning to her husband she shouted, “Don’t be ridiculous, Frederick. You’re not going back to those woods, so please stop talking about your silly foxes!”
Fortescue’s white whiskers bristled. “No need to shriek like a banshee. I’m not blashted deaf.” He started muttering, and Cecily caught just a word here and there. “Blashted fellow…singing out there in the trees…rude chap. Never answered me.”
Phoebe faced Cecily again, the pink feathers on her hat trembling with her agitation. “Really, he gets worse every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him, really I don’t.”
It was Cecily’s considered opinion that if the colonel’s good wife prevented him from downing a pint of brandy a day he might have a little better control of his mind. Afraid that he’d launch into one of his endless stories, she said hurriedly, “I’m so sorry, Phoebe, but I’m in a dreadful rush. Perhaps we can visit with each other later?”
Phoebe looked surprised. “Well, of course we will, Cecily dear. Are we not invited to the carol singing ceremony this evening?” Apparently noticing her friend’s blank expression, her face filled with concern. “It is this evening, isn’t it? I know you always used to have it on Christmas Eve, but I thought this year you’d decided to hold it early so that the staff would have more time to prepare for the Grand Ball on Christmas Eve. Or am I wrong in thinking that?”
Before Cecily could answer, Phoebe slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my dear, how thoughtless of me. Baxter’s still missing, isn’t he. Of course you will be canceling the carol singing.”
“Not at all.” Cecily made a valiant effort to smile. “We will carry on with the Christmas season at the Pennyfoot as usual. Baxter would have wanted it that way.”
Tears brimmed in Phoebe’s blue eyes. “How very brave of you, my dear. Then we most certainly shall be there.” She glanced back at her husband, who had wandered off across the lobby and appeared to be engaged in an imaginary sword fight with the grandfather clock. “At least,” she amended with a sigh, “I shall be there.”
“Then I shall see you tonight.” Exchanging kisses in the air with Phoebe, Cecily sent up a prayer that she would be able to keep that appointment.
Pansy skipped down the front steps of the hotel, her heart thudding in her chest. Anytime she had an excuse to see Samuel was a moment crackling with anticipation. To actually have the chance to talk to him in the stables, out of sight of Mrs. Chubb’s eagle eyes—well, that was pure bliss.
Instead of going back through the kitchen, she’d chosen to take the long way around to the stables. That way she didn’t have to explain to Mrs. Chubb where she was going until after she’d been, and then the housekeeper couldn’t watch the clock every minute she was gone.
Picking up her skirts, Pansy flew through the rose gardens, past the ballroom doors, around the back of the hotel and across the courtyards.
The milder ocean breezes had melted all the snow, and only wet puddles were left to dry out in the sun. Pansy picked her way across to the stables, where she could hear Samuel whistling as he tended to the horses.
Her excitement was so intense she could hardly breathe. Quietly she crept up to the main doors and peered inside. At first she couldn’t see him in the sudden contrast from sunlight to shade, but then she spied him down in one of the stalls.
He had his back to her, smoothing a brush over a chestnut’s gleaming coat. She crept closer, trying not to breathe too deeply as the stink of horses intensified.
Samuel stopped whistling, just before she reached him, and swung around, the brush held aloft in his hand. For a moment she saw an odd look in his eyes, almost as if he was scared, but then it was gone. “Oh,” he said, turning back to the horse. “It’s only you.”
Piqued at the lukewarm welcome, Pansy lifted her chin. “Who were you expecting, then? One of them flighty maids we took on for Christmas, I s’pose.”
He grinned. “Jealous?”
“Course not.” She moved closer to run her hand over the horse’s silky hide. Its coat felt warm and smooth under her fingers, and she felt a shiver run through the horse’s back. She wrinkled her nose at Samuel. “It’s smelly in here.”
“It’s a stable. What do you expect?” He started brushing the chestnut’s coat again. “What’re you doing in here, anyway?”
Reluctant for her big moment to be over too soon, she smiled at him. How dashing he looked with that bandage on his head! Like a pirate, or something. “I came to see you, didn’t I. I never did thank you for filling the coal buckets for me yesterday.”
“Oh.” He seemed tongue-tied for some reason, and frowned at the brush as it moved in smooth strokes down the chestnut’s sides. “Well, it was my pleasure.”
“While you were filling them you said you were going to ask me something, remember?”
His cheeks turned red, and he turned his face away from her. “Not really. I can’t remember much about what went on yesterday.”
Spying a bucket, she overturned it and sat down on it. “Well, you said you had something you wanted to ask me, but then Mrs. Chubb called you and said madam wanted to talk to you and you never did ask me. Don’t suppose you remember it now.” She didn’t tell him that she’d been awake half the night wondering what it was he hadn’t had time to say.
“Well,” Samuel said, his voice sounding strange, “as a matter of fact I do remember. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out with me.”
She jumped up so fast she overturned the bucket. It clattered and rattled along the ground, then rolled under the feet of the chestnut. The horse reared back on its hind legs, whinnying in fright.
Pansy darted out of the stall, leaving Samuel to struggle with the startled animal. “Whoa there, Major! Calm down, then. Whoa there, boy.”
She watched in awe as he coaxed the rearing animal to gradually quiet down, then eventually still its quivering body and swishing tail.
“Goodness, that was clever.” She gazed at him in genuine admiration. “I could never have done that. I—” She broke off at the sight of his face. His eyes stared right at her, yet she knew he wasn’t seeing her. She could see his throat working, but no sound came out of his mouth.
Frightened, she wondered if the bump on his head had damaged his mind. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to knock the bucket into the horse. I only—”
Samuel dropped the brush and swung out of the stall. “I’ve got to see madam right away,” he muttered, and rushed past her, out the doors.
It was only when she was on her way back to the kitchen that she remembered she hadn’t given him madam’s message. Now she was in for it. She could only hope that whatever was so important he had to tell madam, it would be enough to make them forget what it was she’d forgotten.
Cecily looked up in surprise when Samuel burst unceremoniously into her office. “Well,” she said, laying down her pen, “that was quick. I only sent Pansy out there a few moments ago.”
For a moment he seemed confused, then he stepped closer and laid both his hands on the desk. Leaning forward he said hoarsely, “I remembered.”
She shot up in her chair, afraid to hope for too much. “Do you know where Baxter is?”
Once more she felt the crushing disappointment when he shook his head. “I do know he wasn’t dead when I left him.”
“Well, that’s something, at least. Where did you leave him?”
He frowned in his effort to recall the details. “On the trail. I’d started loading holly in the trap when I heard Mr. Baxter yell. He was farther down the trail, and I went running to see what was up. I found him staring up at a tree, and when I looked where he was pointing…” He shuddered.
“You saw the dead body of Gavin Hargrove,” Cecily finished for him.
“Yeah. We didn’t know for sure if he was dead, but once we cut him down, we could see he was a goner. Mr. Baxter says as how we should bring him back to the Pennyfoot and call the constable, so I went back to get the trap.”
He paused, appearing to struggle with his thoughts, and for a moment Cecily was afraid he’d lost track of them again. Then he lifted his head, his eyes bright with excitement. “I heard horses in the distance coming down the trail. When I brought the trap back, there was Mr. Baxter, lying on the ground. I bent over him to see if he was breathing, because I couldn’t see any movement from him at all. I thought at first he was dead, but then I saw his chest moving up and down.”
“He was unconscious?”
“Yes, m’m. He was. I remember that clearly now. I remember wondering what happened to him and that I had to get him home somehow. Then all of a sudden a trap came out of nowhere, driving right at me.” He shuddered again. “I can still hear the horses hooves, and the harness jingling. Like a nightmare, it was. That’s all I remember until I woke up with a terrible headache, all alone in the woods and not knowing what the blazes I was doing there.”
“Did you see who was driving the trap?”
“No, m’m, I didn’t. At least, if I did see him, I don’t remember. It all happened so fast it’s a blur.”
“And so you started walking home.”
“Yes, m’m. That’s it. Then David came along and that’s all I remember.”
Looking at the young man’s stricken face, Cecily felt sorry for him. “So you still don’t know what happened to Baxter?”
“No, m’m. He wasn’t with me when I woke up. I kept calling out but no one answered me. I went back to the trail where I’d last seen him but he was gone. Whoever was driving that other trap must have taken him.”
“I suppose so.” Cecily stared at her desk for a long time. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or even more worried. At least Baxter was alive when Samuel had last seen him, but who had taken him, and to where? Was he a prisoner somewhere?
“Don’t worry, m’m. He’ll turn up, I’m sure of it.”
She sighed. “Dr. Prestwick assures me that Mr. Hargrove’s death was not an accident. Perhaps the theory that members of a syndicate were involved is true after all. They could have taken Baxter prisoner to keep him from talking to the police.”
Samuel’s face changed. “I do hope that’s not the case, m’m.”
She felt cold when she realized what he implied. He’s in good hands. Dear God, make that so. “Samuel,” she said sharply, “we must go back to Whitfield Manor. I need to find out as much as I can about this gambling syndicate and Gavin Hargrove’s involvement with them.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, m’m, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think we should talk to P.C. Northcott.”
“We’re wasting far too much valuable time as it is.” She rose. “Please get the carriage ready at once.”
“I’ve just this minute put the carriage away—” Samuel began, then closed his mouth when Cecily raised her eyebrows. “Very well, m’m.” He turned and headed for the door, muttering quietly, “We’re going to pay for this, I know we are.”
For a moment Cecily felt guilty. Kevin’s warning echoed in her head. It was one thing to put herself in harm’s way, but Samuel was not well, and she was being most inconsiderate to expose him to what could be a dangerous mission.
Not that it would prevent her from carrying out her plan. She was convinced the answers to Baxter’s disappearance lay at Whitfield Manor, and she would risk everything to find him. Everything.