"Alright Fitzroy, let's hear why the job in London shou--"

"I have information."

"Excuse me?" I looked up from the ledger where the candidates' names were listed and at the nervous man sitting across the table from me. 

"I have information. I'll tell you everything I know, just don't send me. I'm not ready to leave. Don't send me up there."

I crossed my arms like I'd seen Brooks do so many times when he thought one of the men was attempting to wheedle a benefit out of him. "No deals when it comes to employ, you should know that. What information do you have?"

"Really, Miss. I can't leave here yet. I.  .  .I. . ."  

"What information do you have?" 

"Montgomery." 

I put down my pen. 

"What do you know? And this better not be made up."

Fitzroy coughed and then readjusted himself in his wheelchair by clapping both hands on the armrests and lifting himself up and around. "The morning of the day he, you know, I was tidying up the room I share with Tiller. It was early yet. Not quite light out yet. Just getting there. I'm an early riser. Not as early as Tiller, but still. "

I nodded, encouraging him to go on. 

"Well, Montgomery, he was pacing up and down the hall like he was out taking the morning air in the woods or something. I didn't pay him any mind. He had some peculiar habits and we all just let him be."

"Where was Link?"

Fitzroy shrugged. "No idea where Archie was. I was in my room. Tiller was already off to the kitchen to bring us back some breakfast."

"Go on. Montgomery was pacing the hall."

"Right, and I was tidying. And then suddenly, I heard a god-awful shrieking. Split your eardrums, it could've. And it just went on. You know, not just one scream but a whole battery.  Well, I wheeled myself to the door quickly-like to see what the matter was, but when I got there, there wasn't anybody in the hallway. Not Montgomery and not anybody else either. I know who it was, though. No doubt. I know who was shrieking like that."    

So did I. My hands began to flex into fists. 

"Who?" I had to hear it out of his mouth. 

"That new housemaid, Amelia. And not long after, I see Montgomery rushing out. With his kit. I guessed he was after going back to his place in the woods. After that, none of us saw him again until, well, you know."

If the anger that had boiled under the surface before was hot, the one that broke the surface now was cold. Stingingly, bitingly cold. I'd wring that woman's neck. I'd put my hands round her throat and wouldn't stop squeezing until she was as limp as a dishrag. How dare she barge her way into our lives and take one of my men from me? How dare she!

"Why didn't you say anything before now? Certainly, you knew what you heard was important." 

He shrugged. "I thought about it, but, damage done and all. Didn't know what it would help." 

"You can go now, Fitzroy."

"It's not going to be me, is it? You're not going to send me up there?" His fingers danced across the table top and fear sat in the wide-opened eyes that stared imploringly at me. In truth, I did have half a mind to send him if he thought keeping back that kind of information wasn't going to land him in trouble, but that could wait. There were perhaps others who had heard that screaming and not said a word.

I got to to my feet.  

"Tell the others I will hear their excuses later."

Where was that blasted woman? I rushed down the corridor towards the main part of the house feeling like nothing more than a massive ocean wave bent on sinking or capsizing anything it came into contact with. And I would do! It'd tear everything apart and not feel bad for a moment!  How dare she set him off with her nonsense! And what the bloody hell was she doing in that part of the house so early in the first place? 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew It would be much better for that woman if I ran into Agatha first, but even if I did, she wouldn't be able to stop me. Slow me down, yes, but I was not about to be stopped. I had a bone to pick with that zounderkite and she was going to feel it and feel it painfully. 

The gods were kind, and after storming through only half the house did I find the culprit on all fours dusting the legs of a side table in the grand salon. 

"MRS THROWER! Or whoever you are.  Just what do you think you're playing at?" I bellowed, rushing across the length of the room to where she was crouching. 

The silly woman gave a cry and a start, banging her head on the underside of an extended table leaf. That only elicited another cry which was followed by some theatrical moaning.  I wasn't having any of it.

"Get out from under there before I drag you out, you idiotic buffoon!" 

She began to crawl backwards, her generous rump wiggling like the back end of a badger attempting to shuffle its way out of a rabbit den. It would have ben comical if I were not ready to lay violent hand on her. 

When she was completely out, she stayed on all fours, motionless, feather duster still in one hand. 

"Stand up, woman! I'm talking to you." 

She didn't move. 

"You really are begging for a kicking, aren't you? GET UP." 

Infuriatingly slowly, she got to her knees and then pushed herself up to a standing position in a protracted series of movements. Her bonnet was askew, brown curls falling out everywhere and the shoulders and front of her dark dress covered in a grey layer of dust. She looked at the floor.

"What were you doing in the West wing of this house two days ago? Very early in the morning? Answer me." 

She pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything. 

"Answer me!"

"Cleaning," she mumbled.

"What? Speak up, woman!"  I'd heard her perfectly clearly, but I wasn't in the mindset for tolerating games.  

"I was cleaning."

"Were you? Really. And who told you to clean in the Field Rabbit offices? Or was it the mens' bedrooms you were to be cleaning? And that so very early, some of them might have still been abed? Hmmm? "  

A slight shake of the head. So slight, I might have missed it if I'd not been staring daggers into her.

"No one, correct? No one told you to go there. So what possible reason do you have for being there?"

She shrugged, still not meeting my eye. "Wanted to see the rest of the house,  didn't I? That's all. Nice, big house like this. My kind don't get to see a fine house so often. So many pretty rooms." 

"Nice, big house like this. I see. Perhaps with lots of pretty rooms full of interesting, easily pawnable trinkets behind unlocked doors? Costly trinkets no one would notice were missing for years? Especially if one were clever and went exploring before it was even light?" 

She took in a sharp breath but didn't look up. 

"Mrs Th--, what's your real name, anyway?"

"Amelia Thrower, ma'am, that's what--"

"Your REAL name, woman! Don't think I don't know that letter of recommendation you presented is a forgery. You've told nothing but lies since you arrived here, so speak up!"

Her eyes snapped up in surprise at the mention of the forgery, and back down again almost as quickly. "I  . . . I can explain." 

"At the moment, I don't care a rotten fig for an explanation. Your real name!" I was shouting again, but couldn't contain myself. This false piece of work had been snooping with the intent to steal. 

Thoughts of Elizabeth and her Iago of a cook ghosted through my mind.

She hesitated, clasping her hands together, kneading the already red skin of her knuckles,  but then finally she said, "Katie Russell."

"Very well, Mrs Russell, what were you doing two days ago, very early in the morning, in the West wing of this nice, big house that the likes of you hardly ever get to see?" 

"Like. . .like I said. I was looking around. Just looking around." 

"Just looking around. And what did you see?" 

The kneading was becoming more vigorous and her eyes were beginning to dart about as if she was attempting to find a window to escape out of or a hole to hide in. 

"And what did you see, Mrs Russell? Or rather, whom did you see?" 

"Oh, ma'am! You know about it!" she cried, in the most insincere tone of relief I've ever heard. "A monster! Or maybe a demon! A ghost! Oh, it was so terrible! I almost died, ma'am! There's something terrible haunting that part of the house!" 

"A monster."

"Yes, ma'am! Face all melted, like. And it came right at me, liking to run me down and drag me into Hell with it! Had its claws out for me. Oh, ma'am, I was so afraid! It was all I could do to fight it off and run for safety!" 

"Fight it off?" 

"Yes, ma'am!  I hit it, didn't I? Hit at it and screamed at it to go away. Don't touch me, I screamed! And that stopped it, ma'am! Stopped it cold and I was able to run away and that's why I'm here to tell the tale. No one ever warned me there were ghosts or demons in this house, and they should have, ma'am! I almost died of fright!" 

I stared at her, the scene becoming clearer. She'd nearly collided with Montgomery in the semi-darkness as he was pacing, and he'd probably put his arms out as a natural reaction to stop them both from falling. Then she'd seen his face and had screamed and hit him. What must that have done to him in his frame of mind, when he already thought hostile strangers were out to get him?  

I couldn't feel my body. All I could feel was a tingling sensation where my body should have been. 

"You will go up to your room, Mrs Russell, and pack your cases. I will not have you in this house or on my property another minute."

"Why, ma'am? It was me who was attacked! Scared the life out of me!  If it's anybody's fault, it's that Miss Agatha's for not telling me there was a --"

I slapped her face so hard that she reeled back a few paces and almost fell over the armrest of one of the sofas. 

"I WANT YOU OUT OF THIS HOUSE WITHIN THE HOUR!" I roared so loudly, it felt like I'd pulled a muscle in my throat. "Is that clear, you miserable, lying cow!" 

I couldn't stand the look of shock and victimhood on her face, so I turned and left. A few paces away from the doorway, though, I was halted when I saw who was standing in the corridor just beyond and listening to the whole scene. 

Agatha. 

And behind her Daniels,  Brooks and McCrory.

And behind them, James.  

"Get. . ." My voice cracked. "Get her out of here. Search through her things, Agatha. See if she's pocketed anything and get her out of here. And I want to see Carter immediately." 

Agatha looked as if she'd aged ten years, but she nodded, and the men parted for me to move past them. James was leaning against the wall opposite, one of his crutches propped up next to him. He reached out and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me towards him and into a tight embrace. 

I didn't struggle. 

The feeling of his arms around me made me forget where I was for a little while. I felt nothing, just a numbness and a sadness that seemed to reach beyond what had happened to that poor man. I floated on than numbness, pressed up against James' warm, solid chest for what seemed like ages. 

"Olivia." James loosened his grasp on me. "Carter's here," he said, and gestured with his head behind me. 

I turned to see Mr Carter fighting a vain struggle to be present and not present at the same time. He turned his hat in his hand and looked discreetly away from the sight of James and I in each other's arms. 

"I have news," he said. 

"So do I. What's yours?"

"Found another snare. When the constable was here. Showed it to him and set it off. There could be more, but, I'm not sure what it matters now. I'll find 'em, surely, but. . ."  He chewed on his lip. "Agatha said you were unwell, or I would've reported it sooner."  

"He went back to his cabin beforehand. With his kit. He might have seen them."

Carter's eyes widened. "Back to his cabin? Why?" 

"Long story. I'm sure you'll hear all of the details soon enough. Go and see if he left anything behind, please. And collect any of his personal things his family might want."

Carter jerked his head in a nod, but before he turned to go, he said, "He had his problems, but I was fond of him and he was a good forester. We'll find whoever's responsible and take care of it, Miss Altringham. You can count on us Carters, like your family always has done. We will put it to rights." 

That I didn't doubt. As Father always said, whatever would we do without our Carters? 

James and I were alone again. I could hear clattering in the kitchen and a breeze from somewhere brought in the faint smell of mown grass and freshly-turned earth. Was Daniels keeping the kitchen door open again? 

"Help me get upstairs, please, James. I think I need to have a lie down. Today has proven to be a bit much, I'm afraid." 

"You aren't asking me to take you to bed, are you?" he said, and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. I looked up at him, only then seeing what a beauty of a black eye I'd given him. I didn't imagine I looked much better. 

"Yes, I think I am," I answered, and pulled on his shirt a little. "But only for medicinal purposes." 

And the most miraculous thing happened. James smiled  down at me with that smile that I'd missed so very, very much for so very, very long.

My smile.