Page 75 of A Provincial Peer

Rachel sniffed. “I’ve c-covered ’im with a sheet. An’ I’ll m-make sure the rest o’ ’is beddin’ is b-burned.”

Benedict took a breath. The maid was thinking more clearly than he was. Other than calling for the undertaker, he could not ascertain what should be done next. “That would be for the best. And I imagine Mr. May will have further instructions once he arrives.”

“V-very well. I shall scrub th’ floors and furnishin’s until he comes.”

“If you are able to rest, I would have you do so,” Benedict said. “Are you sure that you have no symptoms of the illness yourself?”

“I am well, m’lord.”

Given her wholesale exposure to the disease and obvious lack of sleep, her seemingly healthful presence at the door was astounding.

“I have no doubt Mr. Rowe’s sister would wish to thank you personally for caring for Mr. Rowe during this trying time. Did the steward offer you any more information about her these last few days?”

“No, m’lord. ’E rarely spoke. An’ when ’e did, it were just t’ ask fer water.”

Her update, although unsurprising, was disappointing.

“When I gathered the estate ledgers from Mr. Rowe’s study the other day, I noticed a stack of letters on the desk. Would you fetch them for me? You can set them on the doorstep and I will take them with me to Farwell Hall. It is possible that Mr. Rowe exchanged some correspondence with his sister. If there is a letter from her in that pile, we may be able to discover her whereabouts and get word to her of her brother’s passing.”

Rachel did not hesitate. She disappeared into the house and was gone for only a few moments before she returned carrying a small bundle of paper. “This is all of ’em that was on the desk, m’lord.” She set them on the slate doorstep before backing up a few steps into the passage. “If it pleases you, I’ll close the door now.”

He nodded. “Once I have gathered the letters, I shall go directly to Farwell Hall to inform my father of what has happened. I know he would want to join me in expressing immense gratitude for your service, Rachel.”

She managed a weak smile. “I only wish it would’ve ’ad a better endin’.”

It was probably for the best that Rachel not know that even if Rowe had recovered fully, his tenure on the Farwell Estate would have been over.

“When your work here is complete, come to Farwell Hall. I shall do all I can to assist you in securing a new position.”

Her chin quivered as she reached for the doorknob. “Thank you kindly, m’lord.”

Benedict waited until he heard the bolt slide into place before moving toward the doorstep. He gathered the pile of letters in one hand and hurried back down the path to his waiting horse. Saxon raised his head, snorting nervously as the garden gate clanged shut behind Benedict.

“It looks like you’ll get a gallop in today after all, boy,” Benedict said, drawing the straps free of the gate post. Saxon responded with a toss of his head. Benedict tucked Rowe’s letters under his waistcoat and leaped into the saddle. Seconds later, they were thundering down the lane toward Farwell Hall.

The carriage he was supposed to take to Gloucester was parked near the steps leading to the front door. Benedict brought Saxon to a halt beside it, grateful when John stepped out from behind the carriage horses.

“I must speak with my father,” Benedict said, dismounting in one swift movement. “Will you tell the driver? I’m not sure how long I will be.”

“Not to worry, m’lord,” John said. “I’ll tell ’im. An’ I can take Saxon back t’ th’ stables fer ya.”

“You have my thanks.”

Benedict took the stairs two at a time. He reached the front door before Stokes had completely opened it and was at his father’s study before the butler had the chance to ask for his hat.

Giving one cursory knock, Benedict walked in.

“Benedict,” his father said, looking up from the newspaper on his desk. “I thought you’d be on your way by now.”

“Rowe is dead.”

His father stared at him. “I beg your pardon.”

“I just came from the cottage. Rowe’s maid placed the scarf on the doorknob, so I stopped. She came to the door to tell me.”

The newspaper forgotten, his father rose to his feet. “Dear heaven. The man had much to answer for, but I would never have wished this upon him.”

“Agreed.” Now that he was standing in his father’s study, the conversation he’d had with Rachel at the cottage felt like a dream. Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out the only tangible proof he had that he’d actually been there. “I had Rowe’s maid gather the personal correspondence on his desk in case there is something here that might lead us to his sister.”