They reached their rooms, and Oliver fell down on the bed, seeming very content to stay in his dressing gown. Clemmie locked the door. “I think you must eat before you sleep. You cannot sustain yourself on brandy alone. I will ask the kitchen to bring something up. They’re still serving.”
Clemmie pulled the chain for the maid, but Oliver was already asleep. Unfortunately, he would have to wake and eat when the food arrived, then he could sleep as long as he liked.
Chapter 31
AGAINST CLEMMIE’S BETTER judgment, Oliver wished to go down to dinner that night. At no point had she left his side, and she didn’t intend on it either.
Attention was definitely on them as they walked into the dining room. The Schonbergs invited them over to join them, and Oliver accepted. They walked past the countess’ table, that seemed sullenly quiet. The countess looked very tired and deflated. She was no longer the woman who swept into the room and expected things to go as she wanted. Miss Juno looked downtrodden, and Miss Marnier seemed absently disinterested.
“There has been news,” Mrs. Schonberg said. “The countess’ driver had to go and identify a body today, some man who’d met with an accident. And it turned out it was Mr. Hubert, the footman from the countess’ party who disappeared. He didn’t disappear at all. It seems he chose to leave his employment and met with an accident as he did.”
With wide eyes, Clemmie listened. Mr. Hubert was the footman who fell off the carriage? How could that be? What carriage? The last carriage she’d seen leave here had been… two days ago. Really, it had seemed much longer. Those people had left before the constable arrived. Was that the carriage?
“The blither did a runner?” Oliver said. “Maybe he wasn’t happy in his employment. I suppose if you’re a footman, you can offer your services elsewhere and simply leave when they do.”
“Would you hire a footman in a place like this? With no references?”
“Maybe he wasn’t offered employment, simply conveyance. Could be the man had some woman he was chucking it in for? Some girl he’d gotten to know wherever they’ve been, and he’d decided he couldn’t live without her.”
“Oliver, I think you are quite the romantic at heart.” But it wasn’t true. The countess was heading south, so they hadn’t come that way. Perhaps the man simply feared the things that had been going on in the hotel.
Clemmie tried to remember Mr. Hubert, but she couldn’t. There was some notion that she’d seen a man as part of the countess’ party, but she had no recollection of him in her mind beyond a mere shape. “Do you remember this man?” Clemmie asked the Schonbergs.
“I don’t recall meeting him.”
There was a question in Clemmie’s mind that she couldn’t entirely give voice to. Was this man responsible for the abductions? The news that the constable was coming and he’d hopped on the only carriage leaving. That seemed logical, if it wasn’t for the fact that a message had been written on the countess’ door just yesterday.
Oliver ate heartily, but Clemmie had lost her appetite. Her mind was full of questions, and she had no one to ask. From what she did recall about the man, he wasn’t a stout man. She would have noticed a stout footman. Footmen were usually quite young and slim. But then maybe she wouldn’t have noticed, as she had recently come to realize that she paid little attention to the people around, particularly servants. And one of those people she’d tended to ignore had rendered her unconscious and abducted her.
With a sigh, she half-heartedly took a bite of the fish they were being served.
“From what’s being said, the mist rolled in and this man started to flail around him until he fell,” Mr. Schonberg said.
Unease immediately crept into Clemmie’s smile. “What do you mean flail?”
“Maybe it was a bee,” Mrs. Schonberg suggested.
They ate in silence for a while, Clemmie churning this new information over in her head. Mr. Hubert wasn’t a victim, and the way he left was suspicious. Constable Luchon must see that, surely.
“It’s been an exhausting day,” Mr. Schonberg said when they’d finished eating. “A day with good results.” He clapped Oliver on the back. “Welcome back, but I think we part company soon. As soon as the constable lets us leave.”
“I think we’re all ready to leave,” Oliver replied.
“Well, good night until tomorrow.” The Schonbergs rose and said a final good evening before walking out of the dining room.
“Are you tired?” Clemmie asked.
“I should probably stay up a little longer, considering I just woke up. Otherwise I’ll wake in the middle of the night.”
That was something Clemmie knew well. “I didn’t sleep well while you were gone.”
Oliver ordered a port for himself and a sherry for her, and they sat there as people slowly left the dining room. The Italian man was still there, sitting with his book and some kind of liqueur. There was another couple that Clemmie didn’t know. The countess and her party had left some time ago.
“Or maybe that footman scarpered because he was the one doing all this,” Oliver said, nursing his port. “He heard the constable was being called and decided to get away before he was caught.”
“The threat was written on the countess’ door after he’d left.”
“That does suggest it is someone here.”
That was true. All the messages, the sight and sounds of the Romans in the hotel did suggest it wasn’t someone wholly unattached to the hotel. The fact that the man had escaped just as the constable was coming was highly suspicious—if it wasn’t for the fact that someone had written that message after he’d left. There could be no assumption that they were safe.
“When do you think
