House of Salt and Sorrows(50)

Solid thumps, like bare feet running down steps, came from below. How had they doubled back to the stairs without my catching them? Irritation mounting, I raced after them.

Everything seemed in order as I stepped onto the first floor. Potted ferns flanked the archway to the kitchens. No one could go past them without causing their riot of leaves to sway back and forth. They were still. The Graces must have headed toward the front of the house.

As I made my way down the main hallway, checking in the dining room, peeking into the solarium, it occurred to me how dim the main floor was. I couldn’t see the telltale glow from the girls’ candles. Honor lived in terror of the dark; surely she wouldn’t have come down without a light.

I listened for a noise to indicate which way they had gone. It felt as if they also paused, holding their breath, on tiptoe, trying hard not to laugh.

Turning a corner, I smashed into a dark figure. My strangled cry echoed down the corridor.

“Miss Thaumas!” Roland exclaimed, reaching out to steady me.

I jerked from his touch, Edgar’s suspicions racing through my mind. “I’m all right,” I assured him. “You just surprised me.”

Despite the late hour, he still looked impeccably crisp, his uniform carefully pressed and buttoned. Even his cravat was tied with tight precision.

“You’re up awfully late,” he said, his eyes trained on my own, careful to avoid acknowledging my nightgown. “Is there anything you require? A glass of water? Warm milk? Cook has already gone to bed, but I’m certain I could manage some tea. Some chamomile tea to help you sleep?”

I waved aside his offers. “I was looking for the Graces. Have you seen them?”

“Are they also not asleep?” he asked, peering around my shoulder as if to catch them sneaking up on us.

The taper’s flame caught in a draft, causing shadows to dance back and forth across Roland’s thin, pointed features. One moment, he was a leering gargoyle; the next, a trusted family confidant.

“They’re playing at some game. I was hoping to put them to bed before Papa finds out.”

“Should I wake the staff to help?”

I shook my head. “No—no, of course not. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

Roland’s pale eyes dragged back to mine. He was waiting for me to release him, I knew that, but for a moment, it seemed he sensed I had matters other than the Graces on my mind.

“Do you…do you remember the night that Eulalie…”

He knit his silver brows, guessing at the evening in question. “Very well, my lady.”

“Did you see her at all—or see anything unusual about the house?”

Roland’s face fell. “Unfortunately not. I…I had the evening off for my mother’s birthday. Her eightieth, you see. There was a small celebration in Astrea. I left early that afternoon to help with preparations. My brother, Stamish—you know he’s the valet for King Alderon—even he was able to attend. It was quite a fete.” His mouth twisted. “I blame myself for Eulalie’s death. If I hadn’t left, if I’d only been here, I might have stopped her.”

“Stopped her from what?”

His long fingers flexed at his sides. “I don’t believe she was just out for a walk in the moonlight, as your father does…. The maids gossip something terrible, you know, and they were convinced she was running away that night. Eloping,” he added in so low a whisper, I barely heard it. “I noticed when Eulalie’s room was cleaned that a small valise was missing, as were some of her clothes and personal effects.” His eyes grew dark. “She was running away, Miss Thaumas, I just know it.”

“So her companion…pushed her from the cliffs, then?” I asked, careful to avoid clouding his theory with my own knowledge.

Roland cleared his throat, a sudden loud bark down the empty corridor. “Certainly not! It was windy that night…too windy to be out on the cliffs with an unwieldy piece of luggage. She should never have been out there in the first place…. It’s uncharitable to speak ill of the dead, but that watchmaker from Astrea was up to no good. He would have brought shame to this family. Shame to Eulalie. Perhaps it’s better he chose to…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Forgive me, Miss Thaumas. I’m speaking out of turn. Do you think we ought to relight the sconces?”

“The sconces?” I repeated.

“To find the little girls more easily.”

Apparently, our conversation about Eulalie had ended.

“Oh…no. I’m sure they’ve tired of the game and made their way to bed. Perhaps you ought to do the same?” I offered.

“You’re sure there’s nothing more I can do for you?”

I shook my head. “You do so much already. Good night, Roland.”

“Pleasant dreams, Miss Thaumas.”

I turned down another hallway, as though heading for the stairs, but stopped where my candle’s light would not be seen.

Despite Edgar’s certainty, Roland hadn’t been at Highmoor the night of Eulalie’s murder. I felt like crying. I was no further along than I’d been the night of her wake, but now I was wholly on my own, with Edgar’s death to consider as well. Where was I to go from here?

Wiping my eyes, I pushed off the wall. I needed to go to bed. Everything would seem better after a good night’s sleep.