LATER THAT EVENING,ย FULL FROM SUPPER AND HER HEAD POUNDING
from the events of the day, Signa was relieved to find Elaine waiting in the sitting room to help her get ready for bed.
โGood evening, Elaine,โ she told the young woman, who could perhaps be only a few years her elder.
The maid kept her eyes downcast and her chin low, offering the smallest nod. โGood evening, miss.โ She had a cotton chemise laid out for Signa, who extended her hands to have Elaine work off her white kid gloves and help her into her nightwear, as sheโd done every evening.
Signaโs tongue burned with a thousand questions, but she needed to tread lightly to get the information she was after.ย A Ladyโs Guide to Beauty and Etiquetteย did little to instruct her on what sort of interactions with staff were considered acceptable, likely because anyone in the position of reading the book should already know. Her uncle had a handful of servants on staff and spoke to them very little, yet Signa didnโt trust his tactic of pulling his shoulders back and holding his nose in the air, for what good would that do when she wanted Elaine to relax and be open with her?
โHave you been with the Hawthornes long?โ Signa asked as she moved to her vanity, offering a friendly smile as Elaine took hold of an ivory brush and set to work combing
boar bristles through Signaโs hair.
โNot long, miss.โ The tension in Elaineโs shoulders signaled that the maid was as hesitant to say the wrong thing as Signa was. It took Signa clearing her throat and waiting in an uncomfortable silence before Elaine added, โMissus Lillian hired me a little over a year ago, God rest her soul.โ She paused her brushing to cross herself.
โAs her ladyโs maid?โ Signa hoped there was enough genuine curiosity in her voice to steady the womanโs nerves. If the pain of prying information from Elaine was any indicator, the servants and the occupants of Thorn Grove didnโt often converse.
โNot hers,โ Elaine clarified, โbut for the young miss, Blythe. The previous ladyโs maid left to retire by the sea.โ
โThorn Grove is a rather dreary place, isnโt it?โ Signa mused. โI can understand why the sea would appeal.โ
โAye, miss.โ Elaineโs voice fell low and grave. โThey say this place is haunted.โ
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. โMy familyโs home was seaside,โ Signa told her, not needing to fake the longing in her voice. โItโs called Foxglove. I remember very little of it, for I was a child when I visited. I do look forward to inheriting it, though I must admit that the idea of maintaining a home so large sounds rather daunting. I imagine itโll take ages to hire a full staff.โ
Elaineโs hand hesitated for a single moment before she resumed her brushing, and Signa knew her words had done the trick. For who would choose the dreary Thorn Grove over the seaside Foxglove? If there was a chance for her to earn a place there, Elaine would want it. Which meant that Signa now had someone else on her side, whether Elaine realized it or not.
โYouโre quite skilled,โ Signa added. โItโs a wonder you have time for both myself and Miss Hawthorne. Iโm sure thatโs no easy task.โ
This time Elaine didnโt hesitate. โThank you, miss.
Though I admit that the young Miss Hawthorne does not require much these days.โ
Signa searched the maidโs face in the vanityโs mirror. A tiny, concerned crease knitted between her brows. Her sadness seemed genuine, and Signa realized that in the entire time Elaine attended her, she hadnโt once believed she was speaking with a potential killer.
โNo,โ Signa said with a sigh, already feeling as though her lead was slipping through her fingers. โI suppose she doesnโt. Just help dressing, and her medicine, I presume?โ
Elaine nodded. โItโs easy enough to get her ready. Her tea and meals are made in the kitchen. I merely drop them off. So donโt worry, miss. Youโll never be wanting for my time.โ
Though that did little to comfort her, Signa smiled and asked, โI know the rumors of the late Mistress Hawthorne. But tell me, Elaine, are there rumors of any other ghosts at Thorn Grove?โ It was a passing thought, but one that grew with severity the longer she held to it. Why wouldnโt there be more spirits at Thorn Grove when the Hawthornes had owned it for generations?
When Elaine made herself small and set the brush down upon the vanity, Signa felt her suspicions confirmed.
โThe servants talk about seeing a man in the library,โ she said. โThey say the books fall from the shelves on their own, but Iโve never been inside to see it myself.โ
Signa hadnโt even known Thorn Groveย hadย a library. But if there was another spirit in Thorn Groveโperhaps one who could talkโthen it could be worth paying it a visit.
Once Signa was deemed ready for bed, Elaine made her way to the sitting room to retrieve a tray with a piping-hot teapot, a tiny pot of honey, and a biscuit. Just as Signa was reaching for her tea, a dark square slipped beneath her door.
Elaineโs forehead pinched as she bent to pick it up, brandishing a black envelope with a beautiful golden wax
seal. โPerhaps itโs from one of your cousins?โ Elaine guessed.
Signa took it, smoothing her finger over the delicate parchment. She somehow already knew that was wrong. โOr perhaps itโs from Miss Hargreaves, detailing my lesson plans for tomorrow.โ That didnโt feel right, either, but it was enough for Elaine to nod, satisfied.
Though Signa wanted more than anything to tear open the letter, she tucked the envelope into her lap and casually reached for the honey. โThank you, Elaine.โ She kept her tone casual and polite, but full of what she hoped was obvious dismissal.
โHave a good evening, Miss Farrow.โ With a final passing glance at the envelope, Elaine bowed her head and saw herself out.
The moment the door shut, Signa tore open the letter. Written upon thick parchment in the most beautiful script sheโd ever seen were three lines:
Meet me in the stables at the eleventh hour this evening, and dress warmly.
We ride to Greyโs.