The Secret of Pembrooke Park(21)

Abigail let the matter drop. “Well then. Have you two seen enough?”

Mr. Chapman chewed his lip, then said, “I would like to see the servants’ hall belowstairs, if I might, and the workrooms.”

She tilted her head to regard him. “May I ask why?”

“It’s the only area I was allowed in as a boy, and I wonder if it’s changed.”

Abigail shrugged. “Very well. This way.”

She led them downstairs, through the dining room and servery, and then navigated the steep stairs, warning Kitty to be careful.

Belowstairs, they walked along the main passage, with doors opening from it to the servants’ hall, larders, kitchen, and scullery.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Walsh glanced up from her worktable, frowning to discover unexpected visitors, but her frown melted away at the sight of Kitty.

“Kitty, my love, what a treat to see you. Speaking of treats, come be the first to try my new batch of ginger biscuits. I’m sure the mistress shan’t mind.” She gave Abigail a look sparkling with both humor and challenge.

“Indeed she won’t mind,” Abigail assured her with a grin.

“By the by, miss,” Mrs. Walsh said. “Many thanks for sharing Mac’s jam and Kate’s muffins with us. We all enjoyed them a great deal. . . . Well, most of us.”

“I am glad to hear it. I did as well.”

“You’re a lucky girl, my duckling,” Mrs. Walsh tweaked Kitty’s cheek. “Having two such fine cooks in your family.”

“They’ve nothing on you, Mrs. Walsh,” Kitty said around a bite of biscuit. “Mum’s never tasted half so good.”

Abigail glanced over her shoulder to share a smile with William Chapman, but the threshold where he’d stood was empty. She stepped to the door and peered around the doorjamb, surprised to see him lift a door latch at the end of the passage, only to find it locked.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

He glanced up, his fair complexion flushing. “Just wondered where this leads to. I used to play hide-and-seek here as a boy, but I can’t remember . . .”

Abigail’s stomach prickled with suspicion. First he’d disappeared while they were upstairs, opening doors and drawers and who knew what, and now poking about the cellar? She remembered again what Leah had said about William being paid very ill by the stingy rector. Was he tempted to supplement his meager income with treasure hunting?

Abigail hoped not. She had begun to think he might admire her. But perhaps he was only interested in the house and had feigned admiration to gain admittance. With a sinking feeling, Abigail considered the notion. It was far easier to believe an interest in treasure than an interest in her.

Certain she was right, Abigail said little as she walked them out. But then Mr. Chapman surprised her yet again.

He turned to her and said, “Miss Foster, will you dine with my family this evening, since you’re on your own here?”

She hesitated, not sure how to refuse. “It isn’t very much notice. Won’t your family mind?”

“Not in the least. They shall be delighted, and heaven knows Mamma is used to me showing up with guests at mealtimes. I am no cook, and the parsonage kitchen is from the dark ages.”

“Very true,” Kitty said. “Yes, do come, Miss Foster.”

William added, “Mother has been pestering Leah and me to bring you by. She wants to meet our new neighbor.”

Seeing Kitty’s hopeful smile, Abigail said, “In that case, I will happily accept. Thank you.”

“Excellent. Will five o’clock be convenient? We eat unfashionably early here.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She smiled and drew herself up. “Well, I had better go back down and let Mrs. Walsh know not to make up a tray for me.”

They bid her farewell and turned to go. But then Kitty turned back once more. “Oh, I hear people in London dress up for dinner. But no need. We’re informal at home.”

Abigail looked to her brother for confirmation.

“Kitty is right. You are perfect as you are.” He held her gaze as he said it.

Abigail felt her cheeks warm. Surely he was referring to what she was wearing—that’s all.

Avoiding his eyes, Abigail addressed his sister. “Thank you, Kitty. That is good to know.”

Kitty nodded and smiled. “We girls must stick together.”



William walked his sister back home. He was glad he’d thought to invite Miss Foster to dinner. She had been alone too much of late. And he hoped it would make up for his less than polite behavior during the tour. His curiosity was natural enough, but he ought to have restrained himself.

Beside him, Kitty pulled something from her pelisse pocket.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s a basket. From the Pembrooke dolls’ house.”

William stopped in his tracks, stunned. “You took it?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “I am not stealing it. Only borrowing it. I want to show Leah.”

“Why?”

“It looks very much like the baskets she makes, does it not?”

He squinted at it but failed to be impressed. “Looks like any old basket to me. Did you ask if you could borrow it?”

“I meant to when I came and found the two of you. But then we began talking about the portrait and I quite forgot.”