his little talk with the young lady in the garden had changed his plans, m’lord, and that he’d decided to walk into Woodstock and stay at one of the pubs. P’rhaps catch the early train out in the morning.”
Charles was opening his mouth to ask about Northcote’s talk with the young lady in the garden, but Mr. Stevens interrupted.
“Just to inform you, m’lord, that the train goes at six,” he said. “Gentlemen guests with next-day business in London occasionally prefer to stay in the village, so that they don’t rouse the household with an early departure.” He pulled himself up with an expression of deep offense. “They do not, however, rush out of the house in the middle of the night.”
“I see,” Charles said. “You mentioned Lord Northcote’s talk with the young lady, Alfred. That would be Miss Deacon, I take it. When did that take place?”
“Oh, that was earlier, m’lord,” Alfred said. “About half-past ten. Yes, it was Miss Deacon. She was alone in the garden, and he went out, and they talked. Well, he talked, mostly. I could hardly keep from seeing them, could I?” he added diffidently. “They was right under the Saloon windows, and I was putting out the lights.”
“I’m sure you couldn’t avoid noticing them,” Charles said, with a small smile. “Do you have any idea what they were talking about?”
Alfred shook his head. “No, m’lord. But it did seem that Lord Northcote was… well, put out, is how I’d describe him. Heated, if you don’t mind my taking the liberty, m’lord.”
It was always a marvel, Charles thought, how well-informed the servants were about matters that family and guests thought were entirely private. “And the young lady? How would you describe her?”
“Oh, cool, sir,” Alfred said promptly. “Entirely cool. Hardly had a word to say. Which made his lordship even more…” He searched for a word and found it. “Inflamed sir.”
“Did you see either of them leave the garden?”
The footman shook his head. “I had other duties to attend to. I drew the curtains and left the room.”
“And what time did you see Lord Northcote leaving the house?”
“Just going twelve-thirty, sir.” Alfred slid a glance at Mr. Stevens. “I was a bit delayed in my rounds. I’m meant to lock the east door at midnight.” He hesitated, then went on eagerly, “I understand, sir, that you’re trying to find a missing-”
“That’s enough, Alfred,” Stevens broke in. “You may go now.”
“No,” Charles said. “I want to hear this. Go on, Alfred. You were asking about the young lady who’s gone missing?”
“Well, yes.” Alfred knit his hands together nervously. “Y’see, I know her, m’lord.” He paused and dropped his eyes. “And I’ve been worried about her.”
Charles stared at him in surprise. It was hardly the response he would have expected from a footman. “You’ve been worried about her?”
“Well, yes,” Alfred replied. “You see, I-”
Stevens rustled nervously. “M’lord, if I may be so bold, I hardly think that this matter should be of concern to-”
“You say that you know the young lady who’s disappeared,” Charles said firmly, taking no notice of the butler.
“Yes, m’lord.” Alfred, too, seemed to have forgotten Mr. Stevens. His eyes were fixed on Charles, and there was something like hopefulness in them. “I know her from before Blenheim. From Welbeck.”
“I… see,” Charles said, feeling as if ideas that might have seemed merely incidental had suddenly become vital, ideas that concerned Gladys Deacon. “Then you were at Welbeck, too, I take it.”
“Yes, m’lord,” Alfred said earnestly. “It was my second place as footman, y’see, and the young lady and me, we-” He stopped and drew in a deep breath as if he were not quite sure what to say next.
“Quite right, Alfred,” Stevens said with a dark look. “His lordship is not interested in the experience of a footman at Welbeck, or a young person who-”
“But I am interested,” Charles said. “And I am most particularly interested in the young lady.” He was surprised to hear that Miss Deacon had become familiar with a footman, but perhaps it was not so extraordinary, after all. She had more than a hint of her mother’s famed recklessness about her, and young ladies were often known to be attracted to the handsome young men who served them. He was also somewhat bemused that Alfred would be so ingenuous as to tell him this, but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Go on, Alfred,” he said encouragingly. “Tell me more. You were saying that you met her when you were both at Welbeck. That was recently, I assume.”
“Yes, m’lord. It was my last post before comin’ here, m’lord.” Alfred was speaking eagerly now, leaning forward. “After we left th’ Abbey, we went down to London and spent a few days together, and then-”
“Alfred!” Stevens exclaimed with a horrified look. “Remember your place, young man! You are speaking of a lady!”
“A lady?” Alfred looked suddenly confused. “But I-But I wouldn’t say that she-”
Charles put his hand on Alfred’s sleeve. “No matter, Alfred, just go on with your story. You and Miss Deacon spent a few days together in London. And then you came here. Did she come with you, or later?”
Alfred’s eyes went wide. “Miss… Miss Deacon?”
“Yes,” Charles said impatiently. “Miss Gladys Deacon, the young lady you saw last night in the garden, talking with Lord Northcote. You were saying that-”
“Oh, but it’s not Miss Deacon, m’lord!” Alfred exclaimed, with something like relief in his voice. “No, not Miss Deacon, at all, sir. It’s Kitty I’m speaking of.”
“Kitty?” Charles blinked. “And who is she?” He turned to the butler. “Stevens, what the devil is going on here?”
“If your lordship will permit me, it seems that Alfred has inadvertently misled us.” Mr. Stevens gave the footman a sharply reproving look. “It appears that he has been speaking not of Miss Deacon, as your lordship and I might have naturally assumed, but rather of one of our housemaids, a certain Kitty.”
This was beginning to sound like a melodrama. “And this… this Kitty-she’s gone, too?” Charles asked.
“So it would seem, sir, although I was not informed of her absence when it occurred. Mrs. Raleigh, our housekeeper, has just informed me that the girl left without giving notice. And Her Grace, who is understandably anxious, has requested that I make inquiries about her at the Black Prince, in Woodstock, where she recently went to meet a.. a certain person.” He shot another dark glance at the footman. “It appears that Alfred is somewhat concerned about her, as well.”
“Somewhat concerned!” Alfred exclaimed hotly. He clenched his fists. “I’ve been off my head with worry, is what I’ve been!” He turned back to Charles with a look of entreaty. “I know you’re not the police, m’lord, not that I’d be wantin’ the police, since I cert’nly hope it won’t come to that. But Mr. Stevens says you’re making inquiries, m’lord, and I was hopin’ you’d be able to find out what happened to Kitty.” He choked back something that sounded like a sob. “I just know that something’s gone awful wrong, sir.”
“So it was a housemaid who was with you at Welbeck,” Charles said, beginning to see things in a new and different light. “Kitty, you say?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Alfred replied hopefully. “That’s her name. Kitty Drake.”
Kitty Drake. Charles pressed on. “But perhaps you were also acquainted with Miss Deacon during your service at Welbeck, Alfred. I understand she was a guest there.”
“Miss Deacon, m’lord?” Alfred’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Well, not to say acquainted, of course, m’lord. But you’re right, she was a guest there. She and Lord Northcote both.”
“Ah,” Charles said. “And did the two of them seem to be… on friendly terms?”
“Oh, yes, m’lord. Quite friendly, especially her. Not at all like here. Once I even-” He stopped suddenly, his eyes going to the butler as if he expected a rebuke, then back to Charles.
“Please go on, Alfred,” Charles said. “I am not asking you to repeat gossip or carry tales about the guests. But Miss Deacon disappeared last night, and anything you know about her, even something that seems entirely incidental, may help us to find her.”
“Miss Deacon’s gone missing, too?” Alfred asked, taken aback. “Well, I don’t really… that is, all I know is what I saw, m’lord. At Welbeck, I mean.” The footman looked flustered.
“And that was-” Charles prompted.
“Well, they was kissing,” Alfred said hesitantly. “In the Welbeck conservatory. And he was telling her that he
