Secrets of Sloane House(6)

“No one really knows.” Looking at her a bit more closely, he added, “She was here one day, gone the next.”

“Left without so much as a by-your-leave, she did,” Cook added. “I was good to that girl too.”

But Rosalind noticed that Cook’s voice wasn’t bitter. No, it sounded worried.

“Where do you think Miranda went in such a hurry?” Remembering some of the dark things Miranda had written, about being frightened by someone in the house, she swallowed hard. “Do you think she got hurt or something?”

Cook shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Feeling slightly sick, Rosalind attempted to sound more hopeful. “Maybe she fell in love and ran away to get hitched or something?”

“Not a chance. She left without her clothes and paycheck,” Tilly said.

Cook glared. “Tilly!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but love can only get a girl so far, you know,” Tilly said with a lift of her chin. “Takes money to eat.”

After sending a dark look to the cheeky girl, Cook answered. “Miranda’s leaving was a sudden thing. Too sudden, if you ask me.” After a furtive glance at the door to the hallway, she lowered her voice. “I, for one, don’t believe she left the house on her own will. By all accounts, she seemed happy enough here—at least until the last few days or so.”

“Always had a smile for us all, she did,” Stanley, valet to Mr. Sloane and Douglass, said.

Cook continued. She shivered dramatically. “No one leaves a good job like this without giving notice first. I fear somethin’ terrible happened to her.”

“Like what?” Rosalind asked, fearing the answer. She could feel tears wanting to fill her eyes. With effort, she blinked them away. No one could know how affected she was by this news.

“You could choose any number of things,” Jim said. “She could have been abducted, murdered. Maybe even fallen onto the train tracks.”

“Or maybe even something worse,” Tilly whispered. “Maybe someone she knew did her in.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rosalind asked. Vivid pictures of her sister in terrible situations came to mind. Each one ended with her being beaten and bleeding. Broken and alone. Maybe even dead.

After glancing at Cook, Tilly flushed. “Nothing.”

What was Tilly not saying? Why didn’t Cook want Tilly to tell what she knew? And why did Cook sound like Miranda wasn’t happy just before she left?

“Her going missing has been a real mystery, for sure. It’s affected us all, and that is the truth,” Cook stated after the briefest of pauses. “We read about girls getting snatched all over Chicago all the time in the Tribune. But bad things feel different when they happen to you. Know what I mean?”

Rosalind nodded. She knew exactly what Cook meant. It was one thing to hear about a nameless woman getting injured or killed. But if it were a sister? Well, there were no words.

“Mrs. Sloane was in a state about it too.” A line formed in between Cook’s brows. “She still kind of is, if you want to know the truth.” Wagging her finger, she said, “If you know what’s good for you, don’t ever bring up Miranda’s name. It sets Mrs. Sloane off something awful.”

“Rosalind?” Tilly called out. “You’re looking as white as a sheet.”

Cook narrowed her eyes. “Are you all right?”

No. No, she was not. But that hardly mattered.

Lifting her chin, Rosalind tried to think of her mission and not her worst fears. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I never would have imagined something horrible happening to a girl working in a grand house like this. And, uh, I would have thought she would have been more protected.”

“Protected? Well now. No one can promise you that you’ll always be safe.” Cook wagged a finger again. “But I can promise that our lady makes sure she knows just about everything that happens. And what she doesn’t know Mrs. Abrams does,” she said, speaking of the housekeeper who hired Rosalind.

Rosalind didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. Struggling to keep her expression neutral, she murmured, “I’ll be sure to remember that. And keep my eyes open.”

“Good. But remember, child, whatever you do . . . Rosalind, don’t you get it in your head to start asking about poor Miranda. As far as you are concerned, young Miranda never existed.”

The lump that had formed in her throat was threatening to choke her. She bent down to her stew, attempting to concentrate on it instead of her broken heart.

“Like I said, I hope I didn’t scare you none. Just wanted you to be aware of things, you know.” Jim tipped his hat again. “A fetching girl like you can’t be too careful, by my way of thinking. Now I best be gettin’ back to work or I won’t get paid.”