Free Midnight Secrets by Jennifer St Giles Page A

glanced about.
    I looked and found nothing amiss, yet her furtive response dimmed the brightness of the day and had me checking over my shoulder more than once.
    She didn’t speak until we were out of sight of the castle, on the lonely path to the village edging the forest. “Makes me shiver just to look at the maze. Ya can’t see where yer goin’ when yer in it. Ya can’t see who’s behind ya. Not a good feelin’ at all, and whot’s worse—” Bridget’s voice dropped low as she leaned my way, her eyes big blue saucers, “—it’s whispered that she died in there, ya know, but no one speaks of it.”
    I stumbled though the path lay smooth. Bridget caught my elbow, bringing us to a halt. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, slurring my words. “M-m-mary? I thought you said she drowned?”
    “Ack. I forgot. Ya wouldn’t know about Lady Helen, now would ya. It h-happened a ways back. Wouldn’t know much myself except Flora’s best friend worked for the Kennedys. Sad thing it were. Her father up and killed himself after it h-happened, too. Their house has lain silent ever since. They say it’s ’aunted. The father left a note saying he was going to h-heaven to hear his angel sing. Even the Queen requested Lady Helen to sing for her on occasion. ’er beauty was ten times that of Helen o’ Troy. Had to have been, to have every eligible man for miles after h-her hand. And all of them jealous of the other, especially the Killdaren brothers. Golden hair and cornflower eyes, she h-had.” Bridget blinked at me several times, her brow creasing to a frown. “Like you, miss, ya might say. And I kept all of my h’s, I did.”
    “You did well.” But my thoughts weren’t on Bridget’s progress, they were on what she’d just said. Golden hair and cornflower eyes. Like you, miss. And like Mary , I thought. Mary’s hair had been golden. Except her eyes had been different . Mary’s had been brown, but mine were blue.
    I glanced about. Everything appeared normal; still I became uneasy. Finding a commonality between a woman who’d been murdered and my cousin, who I suspected had died under suspicious circumstances, wrapped an eerie feeling around me.
    “Let’s hurry to the village.”
    Bridget didn’t argue. In fact, I think after snatching off her falling mob cap, she moved even faster than I did until we were somehow racing as fast as we could, something no lady would ever be seen doing. With perspiration soaking our dresses and our hair awry, we were quite a sight. I paused for air, feeling a little ridiculous, but oddly exhilarated too. As if the sensation of danger just a breath away made me more alive than years of trudging though my daily routine. The notion was as unsettling as learning Helen had been murdered in the maze.
    Bridget, with her cheeks flushed like bright new apples, her eyes shining, and her red hair flowing free, appeared more beautiful than ever. “Blimey, but that was fun.” We stopped on the side of the road, hearing an approaching carriage. After just a week of working on reading she’d grown more confident as well as easier to understand. Next we’d work on her g’s.
    The carriage, sporting the Killdaren double dragon crest, flew past, steering purposely into a puddle near us. Mud splattered our skirts and raised my ire to a previously unknown level as I heard the occupants laugh. “That’s twenty shillings,” the driver called to the men.
    “The bloody arses did that on purpose.”
    “Idiot buffoons.” I brushed at my skirts. “Ladies aren’t supposed to say bloody or arse. Who was it?”
    “Not the Killdaren, I’ll wager. And Lord Alexander always rides one of ’is fancy ’orses. So it ’ad to be either the earl and Sir Warwick, or someone visiting Dragon’s Cove.” Anger had made her drop her h’s again. I didn’t say anything this time.
    “I thought no one ever visited the Killdarens.”
    “No one proper. But the viscount ’as been known to—”