Dragonfly Maid

it were an animal or such, there would have been signs of it. Had to be a fall, plain and simple. Maybe hit her head on a rock, nothing more, nothing less.”
“I’m sure you’re quite right, Mr. Jameson. Her appearance did suggest such an end, I must agree. And her strange pallor, it would be expected, I suppose, lying out there as she did. Wouldn’t you say so?”
“I would indeed, sir.”
“Good. Very good.”
I heard boots landing hard on the ground and the slapping of hands against limbs that accompanied the general brushing off of dust and dirt.
“Jameson, you have put my mind at ease. I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, and if I might impose on your goodwill once more, I would be grateful for your discretion as well. I know questions will be asked and curiosity will abound, but for the girl’s sake—”
“Sir, you needn’t say another word. I see no reason to speak of it to anyone.”
“Good,” Mr. MacDougall said. “It sums up my own feelings as well. Our part is done. The rest is in the Constable’s hands. Ah, Mr. Bailey! I wasn’t expecting—”
“I have been waiting for you.” Dismay was plain in the man’s voice. But then his tone, especially these past few months, was never what you’d call pleasant. As the Master of the Household’s second in command, Mr. Bailey was often charged with carrying out the more unpleasant duties of the office, and lately that meant overseeing the elimination of staff.
Were more dismissals coming?
“Ah, yes,” Mr. MacDougall said, sounding flustered. “I was just taking care of that matter we discussed… I mean, the unfortunate…”
“I know what you were doing. Is it done?”
“Yes, sir. Just as you asked. Everything is as you requested.”
“Good. Mr. Jameson, would you mind if I borrowed Mr. MacDougall? There’s a matter concerning the Queen’s masquerade, if you don’t mind.”
The words were polite enough, but there was no mistaking that Mr. Jameson was being dismissed.
“Of course, sir,” he said. “If you won’t be needing anything else then, Mr. MacDougall?”
“No, no, Jameson. And thank you again.”
“Quite all right, sir. Quite all right.” Then he made a clicking sound through his teeth that sent the horses lurching onward.
At that, the men said their goodbyes, and we heard the gate close and the cart trundle away. When the low voices and footsteps faded, Mr. Wyck peered around the corner. Then he stepped away from the wall.
I did the same.
But I still had questions.
“You truly did not know about the girl?” I asked as he continued to watch Jameson lead the horse cart toward the mews.
He wheeled on me. “Are you accusing me of something, Miss Shackle?”
I froze. I wasn’t even sure anymore, but I hated the feeling of not knowing. Of being afraid. I did my best to stand my ground. “Should I?”
“Absolutely not.” His cheeks flushed, his eyes flared, and his anger wrapped about him like a suit of armor.
It was an emphatic denial, and it was difficult to reconcile that earnest expression—that pained expression—with one who could carry out such a despicable act.
Could he look me in the eye and lie so convincingly? I simply didn’t know.
“I should get back to the kitchen,” I said. I had no more courage to press the matter. “Thank you for your help last night, but I won’t trouble you any further.”
He stepped aside to let me pass. He didn’t smile or even nod. Instead, he glanced away and muttered, “Somehow I doubt that.”
The insult twisted a furious knot inside me, but I swallowed my snide reply before it could slip off my tongue. Let him have the last word. I’d be lucky enough to get away.
~ ~ ~
I cursed Mr. Wyck’s audacity all the way to the kitchen. And where was my dragonfly? Why wouldn’t she show herself when I needed her? She knew something about Mrs. Crossey she wasn’t telling me, and probably something about the girl on the Slopes, too. A dozen times I thought I caught her buzz, but each was something else. Leaves rustling. A bird chirping. A gardener whistling in the distance.
When I finally reached the kitchen gate, there was still no sign of her.
“Where are you?” I whispered through gritted teeth.
By now I was long past tardy and well into dereliction of duty, but I had to find her. I wouldn’t have another chance until after nightfall. So, despite the fury I knew I would face, I went through a back corridor to the East Terrace and the Slopes, where I’d seen her last.
In the garden, I shaded my eyes and peered around the rosebushes. “Dragonfly, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
I followed the path I had taken the night before. I called out at intervals with no reply. At the castle wall gate, I grabbed the usual rock to prop it open and lifted the hinge.
As I did, I saw someone standing on the other side. A tall, uniformed someone with his back to me, and beyond him a half dozen others wading through the tall grass with sticks.
The one in front of me turned and held out his hand to stop me from coming any closer. “This area’s off limits, Miss. No one’s allowed past this point.”
“But why?” I faked an innocent look. “Did something happen?” I rose on my tiptoes to see over his burly shoulder. How far had they searched? Were they at the trees?
“Nothing for you to be concerned about. Just go back inside.” He shooed me with a flutter of his sausage-sized fingers.
I stepped back and stumbled on a pebble. I thought he reached out to steady me, but he grabbed the edge of the door instead and yanked it shut.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mrs. Crossey was tending a fresh batch of porridge when I reached the kitchen. Without disturbing her, I went to a pile of day-old bread loaves on our table. A bundle of herbs, cream, butter, eggs, and sausage links sat nearby. So it would be a savory bread pudding