Twelfth Night Secrets Read Online Free PDF

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    Well, at least dogs don’t tell tales, Harriet reflected as her eye swept the chamber. She could see nothing out of place. What was she looking for, anyway? Why did she imagine that this accomplished spy would leave anything incriminating available to prying eyes?
    A neat stack of papers lay on the secretaire in the window embrasure, and she walked over to the desk. If anyone wanted to know why she was there, she was merely ensuring that their guest had a plentiful supply of ink and quills. She was fairly certain such an explanation would not satisfy the black-eyed Earl of Marbury, and her heart beat even faster as she glanced anxiously over her shoulder towards the door, whichshe had left ajar, thinking it would look less incriminating if she had an unexpected visitor.
    A sheet of vellum bore the imprint of a quill as if it had been beneath a paper he had been writing on. She squinted at the marks, unwilling to pick up the paper in case she disturbed something that would indicate interference with his possessions. She could make out little from the deep indentations; they seemed to be meaningless, random letters and numbers. Although presumably, they made sense to their intended recipient. Was it a response to the letter he had just burned?
    Tess began to get to her feet, and Harriet decided she had done enough prying for one day. She dropped a reassuring hand onto the dog’s head, before hurrying with relief from the room, closing the door softly behind her with the reflection that spying didn’t seem to come naturally to her, despite the fact that the aptitude appeared to be a family trait.
    Downstairs, she made her way to the housekeeper’s parlor. Mrs. Sutcliff was examining a sheaf of accounts when Harriet tapped lightly at her open door. “Mrs. Sutcliff, I’m sorry to disturb you.”
    “Not at all, my lady.” The housekeeper rose to her feet with a curtsy. Now in middle life, she had been in service at Charlbury Hall since her eleventh birthdayand was convinced that the house would fall apart if she was not controlling every aspect of its running. Grudgingly, she allowed Mallow, the butler, to control his own realm, and Harriet was always careful to grant her all due respect, steering her own delicate path through the rivalry between Mallow and the housekeeper.
    “Oh, do sit down, Mrs. Sutcliff. I know you’re busy, but I just wished to see if there were any questions I could answer about the guests or anything I should know about with the staff. Is all well?”
    “Aye, well enough, m’lady.” The housekeeper sat down again. “Young Doris has the toothache, and we may have to do without her for a day or two. She needs the tooth pulled, but she’ll have to be dragged to the dentist, I fear. It’ll wait until after Christmas, mind. When she’s suffered for a few more days, she may be a bit more willing.” The woman gave a nod of severe satisfaction.
    Harriet grimaced. Toothache was the very devil, and she could sympathize with poor little Doris. The scullery maid was no more than a child. “Well, if we have oil of cloves in the still room, Mrs. Sutcliff, that might relieve her pain a little.”
    “That’s been taken care of, ma’am,” the woman respondedwith a little sniff. “And her jaw’s bound tight in flannel.”
    “Yes, of course,” Harriet said hastily. “Of course you would know exactly what to do for the girl. Is there anything else?”
    “No, m’lady, nothing I can think of,” the housekeeper said, mollified. “But you may be sure now you’ve arrived, you’ll be informed, and I’ll do myself the honor of waiting upon you with Cook’s menus after breakfast.”
    “Thank you.” Harriet smiled and took herself off to the butler’s pantry. These few minutes with the senior staff whenever she arrived paid off, she knew, but she found them a sore trial.
    A few appreciative words for Mallow, who was cleaning the vast array of family silver, a task he held dear, followed by a