The man shook his shaggy head. “I hope the
lad had sense not to take the small boat out on his own. He’s going to run into trouble if he went too far.”
“Jesus and Mary protect him,” Mrs. Crozier said devoutly, and Maddy would have given a silent snort if she hadn’t been filled with her own irrational worry. It was bad enough when she thought he’d gone out to sea in a large ship. If he were in a smaller vessel he’d be that much more vulnerable.
“More like the devil,” Quarrells said with a heartless laugh, and Maddy tried to feel encouraged. Surely a friend wouldn’t laugh if he were in any real danger. “Tell him I need a word with him when he gets back, Mrs. C.”
“Surely not about my household arrangements?” Mrs. Crozier said sharply.
The man laughed. “Not really worth my time, is it? I’ve got more important things on my mind. Just don’t kill the lass. You don’t find such hard workers every day.”
The housekeeper made a harrumphing sound, and Maddy kept scrubbing, not slowing her efforts as she heard the kitchen door close behind Quarrells. She half-expected Mrs. Crozier to deliver another sharp kick, but the woman didn’t move.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a champion,” Mrs. Crozier said with a sniff. “If I were you I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s not going to be much help to you. You’re not his type.” The woman cackled to herself. “Have you got that floor clean yet? You’re taking forever.”
There was revenge and there was revenge, Maddy thought, plastering a sweet smile on her face. Mrs. Crozier was trying to defeat her, and the best possible response was sweetness and light. “I believe I’ve done it right this time, Mrs. Crozier.”
“Then clean it up, girl. I’ve got dinner to prepare, and that miserable Mon-sewer turned my kitchen upside down. I don’t know whether the captain is lying at the bottom of the sea in this storm or not, but if he gets back safely he’ll need his dinner.”
Maddy’s smile didn’t falter. “What would you like me to do next, Mrs. Crozier?” She was so weary she could fall asleep where she knelt, but she couldn’t afford to show it. She was never going to fall asleep in the wrong place again—it was much too dangerous for her peace of mind.
There was a crack of thunder, followed by pelting rain, and a shiver ran down Maddy’s back. What would it be like to be on the ocean in a storm? The very thought was terrifying.
Mrs. Crozier eyed her skeptically. “Are the fires laid?”
“Yes, Mrs. Crozier.”
“Everything dusted and swept?”
“Yes, Mrs. Crozier.”
“Floors waxed and polished?”
“Yes, Mrs. Crozier.”
“Windows. How are the windows?”
“I washed them yesterday and the day before.”
“You didn’t do a good enough job. There were streaks.”
There hadn’t been a single streak on any pane. “Would you like me to do them again?”
She could see the thoughts tumbling in the woman’s brains—she could send her out into the thunderstorm to wash the outside of the windows and court death, even though the outside was ostensibly Wilf Crozier’s bailiwick. Finally Mrs. Crozier made a disgusted sound. “Go on then and do something about the disaster the attics are in. I’m astonished you can live in such squalor.”
Maddy forbore to mention that Mrs. Crozier had refused to allow her any time to deal with the mess in the attics. The only problem with going up there in the storm-shrouded afternoon was the chance she might disturb the bats. “When would you like me back downstairs?”
“If I need you again I’ll call you. And don’t be thinking you’ll steal a nap. You’re not being paid to sleep on the job.”
For a moment Maddy wondered whether the captain had said anything to his housekeeper about finding her asleep in his bed. He couldn’t have—Mrs. Crozier wouldn’t have let her hear the end of it. “Yes, Mrs. Crozier.”
She might not have dared sleep when she climbed the endless flights of stairs to the attics, but at least the bats did. She brought up a broom and a bucket of hot water, and what had been an unending chore downstairs was surprisingly pleasant in her own space. The clean windows looked out over the storm, and she peered through the thick clouds to the harbor, looking for any signs of a boat foundering on the rough waves. Which was patently ridiculous—if the captain was out there she had no idea what his vessel looked like. And why would an experienced sailor go out on the water when he wasn’t working? It would be like a cobbler making shoes in his spare time, wouldn’t it?
By the time she was finished, the sky was full-on dark, and the captain hadn’t returned, at least, not by way of the front door. She’d planned to attack the locked closet again, but she couldn’t concentrate. She’d deliberately left the window open, returning time and again when she thought she heard someone outside. The wind-driven rain soaked the floor in front of her, but Maddy didn’t care. Her stomach was tied in knots, and all the rationalizations couldn’t stop her anxiety. She needed him home, safe and sound, and then she could worry about whether he needed to hang for her father’s murder.
Finally she dragged a sagging, mouse-chewed old chair in front of the window, covered it with a quilt, and sat down, waiting. The rain blew in on her face and she closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the sea and the freshness of the storm, and she let her body become still and quiet. She hadn’t been to church since her father died, and before then it had been more of a social obligation than an act of religious observance, but this undercurrent of thought couldn’t really be called prayer. She closed her eyes and pictured the captain, the wicked, laughing captain, alive and well. Any port in a storm, the captains would say. And he would be more than adept at saving his own neck. He’d be fine. But still she let the vision move inside her, to quiet the unbearable fear.
She would have thought she’d fall asleep, but despite her exhaustion she stayed awake, alert, waiting for the sound of him outside. Every time a carriage rolled by she leaned out the window, but there was almost no traffic during the powerful storm, and not one of the few vehicles stopped at the house. There was no sight of a tall, strong figure striding through the rain, just a few hardy souls scuttling by. She leaned out once more, then looked down at the front door beneath her. That was when she noticed the open windows on the first floor.