Free 1 A Spirited Manor by Kate Danley

She passed them to him.  "Be safe,
then."
    He took the hat from her and
placed it upon his head, and allowed her to hold the jacket as he fit his arms
into the sleeves.  Out of habit and without thinking, she found herself
smoothing the shoulders and turning him to straighten the front lapels like she
used to do for Thomas.  She stopped herself, realizing her hands now rested
upon the strong muscles of his chest and she was standing too close for a woman
who was not his wife.  He looked upon her, his brown eyes smoldering with something
more than just duty as they gazed at one another.
    "Promise me you will be safe,
Clara.  I would be most distressed if something were to happen to you while I
was away."
    She smiled, picking a bit of
lint from his collar, the gesture strangely intimate.  "I shall promise
you that gladly."
    He nodded once more and then
stepped away to stride into the darkness.  Clara watched him for as long as she
could see him, which was not all of ten steps.  The rain was fierce and blowing
almost sideways.  Lightning lit up the sky and for another moment, she saw his
silhouette against the sky.  She hoped that she would see him again.

Chapter Thirteen
    S he closed the door.  The sound
of feet came from the hallway behind her and she turned.  Horace, Marguerite,
and Norman emerged.
    "Is all well?" she
asked.
    "As well as it could
be," said Horace.  "Damnable surprise this.  Who would have thought
Gilbert, after all these years of service, would sink to such violence?  No
accounting for the help these days.  You treat them fairly.  You give them a
home and shelter and honest work, and they then go kill a woman in your own
parlor.  Well, I shall think twice before hiring a butler stronger than myself,
I tell you!"
    Marguerite rolled her eyes. 
"Please, Horace.  Let the police determine his guilt before you play judge
and jury."
    Horace didn't make a reply, just
harrumphed and looked towards the parlor uncomfortably.  "Well, I suppose
we should decide what to do with Hilda next."
    "You should leave the crime
scene untouched so that the police can do their jobs!" Norman insisted in
his whiny pitch.
    "Be quiet, Norman,"
Marguerite sighed.
    "Wesley... I mean... Mr. Lowenherz
has left to fetch the authorities," said Clara.
    "Went out in this
storm?"  Horace pointed at the phone.  "He could have called!"
    Clara shook her head.  "Wesley
tried, but I'm afraid he said the lines are down.”
    “Does he even know how a
telephone works?”
    “He seemed familiar enough with
it.  I’m sure he was doing it correctly.”  Clara pointed outside, “The rain and
wind really is so terrible, a tree must have interfered."
    "Well, a damnable nuisance
that."  Horace peered out the window.  "He went into that storm,
then?  I hope we don't have two bodies to deal with come morning."
    "Horace, please,"
Marguerite said.  "Things are getting downright morbid."
    "There is a dead woman in
the parlor, Marguerite," Norman pointed out.
    "That is still no reason to
go losing our heads."
    "Like her?"
    Marguerite gave him a look which
caused him to shut up.  "We are going to go into the dining room and are
going to help ourselves to a drink to steady our nerves.  And then we are going
to wait until the police arrive and get this whole mess sorted.  And then we
were going to go to bed and wake up in the morning and deal with whatever the
day deals us.  Do you all understand?" she asked.  Her tone brokered no
nonsense and the entire company seemed quite happy to allow her to take command
of the situation.
    "Thank you," Clara
murmured to Marguerite as they entered the dining room.
    "For what?  For finding an
excuse to empty Horace's liquor cabinet without looking like a callous drunk? 
We should be thanking Hilda.  He'll break out the good stuff, now."
    Clara stood still for a moment,
and Marguerite did not seem to notice that she did not keep pace.
    Really, thought Clara, what a
houseful of horrible human