“I will inform you when things change,” she said. “Although I’m assuming we…” She should probably be saying ‘I’, “…will be heading north again.”
“As you see fit,” he said with a nod, and she appreciated that the man only spoke of the things that were necessary to say. It was comforting somehow.
Once outside again, she intended to walk back to the main entrance, but then stopped. If he was taken out of the hotel, it had probably not been through the lobby. There had to be other entrances.
Taking herself in the other direction, she walked around the hotel. There was a basement, likely where the kitchen and storage areas were. Maybe that was where the drivers lived. Many of the staff probably lived in the village below. Or perhaps they were on the top floor like servants were back home.
Now that she looked at it, this hotel was so full of rooms, a person could be hidden anywhere. And there were entrances to the hotel. A kitchen entrance, another entrance, a third one with telltale signs of black soot. It had to be a coal room. A person could be carried out, or marched out.
Imagining it left her feeling deeply uneasy. With a cart, Oliver and Mr. Carter could have been taken anywhere. Even hidden down in the village.
Someone with a weapon could easily lead someone out, but someone carrying a body had to be strong.
Hopefully this constable would come soon and investigate properly. This was beyond her capabilities, even beyond her comprehension.
The cold slowly seeped the warmth from her, and she even felt an ache in her back where the spear had hit her in her dream. Her mind was concocting it, of course, but she could feel it like a physical thing.
The truth was that she was lingering because she felt more comfortable out here where she could see people coming. Inside the hotel, someone was… trying to undo her—maybe even trying to hurt her.
But she would soon freeze to death if she stayed out longer than she already had, so she pulled together her courage and walked back to the hotel. Lunch was another hour away, so she determined she would have a hot chocolate and chase away the cold. It was always something that soothed her, and she could definitely use some comfort right then.
Mr. Weber nodded to her when she walked in, and she headed to the breakfast room, which was deserted, except for a couple she didn’t know. They hadn’t been here long, she guessed.
What she did know was that there was a group of people who’d been here from the time Miss Marnier had first been attacked until now. Someone was responsible, and it had to be from that group. Unless it really were ghosts causing this.
“A cup of hot chocolate,” she said to the waiter who approached her. The weather was turning outside the window. The clean day was getting darker. A front was coming in, and it looked like the wind was picking up. This place was at the mercy of the weather. It seemed to change dramatically and without much warning.
A cup was placed down in front of her and she cupped it with her hand, feeling the heat seep into her fingers. A taste, and warm, luscious chocolate washed over her mouth. She felt guilty for enjoying it, because Oliver couldn’t. How could she enjoy something when he was… missing?
It was difficult to think of the circumstances he was in, but she hoped he wasn’t suffering. Or was it better that he was suffering and alive? These questions were impossible to answer.
A commotion drew her attention to the lobby, but she couldn’t see what was happening. Raised voices flowed into the breakfast room. Someone was unhappy. Perhaps the constable had arrived.
Getting up, Clemmie walked to the lobby and saw the countess with her companions.
“I told you I wish to leave,” she demanded. “This place is not safe.”
“The constable has requested that no one leaves,” Mr. Weber said apologetically. It went against his grain to deny a guest, but he’d apparently been in communications with the constable. It was news to her that they’d been told not to leave. From the perspective of a policeman investigating crime, it was understandable.
“Well, I have committed no crime. There is no reason for me to stay.”
“The request is the same, I’m afraid,” Mr. Weber said appealingly.
“He will come chasing after us if we leave,” Miss Marnier said, looking concerned. “It will show guilt, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s ridiculous. I’d never steal men away in the middle of the night. To assert such a thing is preposterous.”
“But this man wishes to understand what we’ve experienced and observed,” Miss Juno said. “It is only through our accounts that he will know what has happened.”
“The staff here know full well what’s happened. They can convey it just as clearly as we can.”
“The constable is on his way. Once he gets here and takes your statement, I’m sure he’ll be amenable and let you be on your way. And your carriage isn’t ready to depart.”
“Frig the carriage. This place is a hazard with walking ghosts and creeping murderers,” she stated with the full force of her displeasure, and Mr. Weber winced at the statement. There was no way this wouldn’t become known, and his business would suffer for it. “How are we supposed to stay in a place like this?”
“We’ll manage,” Miss Juno said, trying to calm her down.
“Shouldn’t you be minding the child?” the countess countered sharply, and Miss Juno was rebuked enough to lower her gaze, and then disappear from view.
“Please bear with this inconvenience,” Mr. Weber urged.
“I’m sure the carriage will be ready very soon. Maybe even this afternoon,” Miss Marnier said. “We’ll speak to the constable, and tell him what we’ve observed. We should perhaps not assist whatever is doing this by not giving our observation. Then
