Philomena awoke expecting to turn over and find her friend either sleeping or half-dressed and ready to set about their morning tasks. Instead, she found herself alone in a very cold and very empty bed. Surely Victoria wasn’t already outside at the well? Had she slept so deeply that she’d been unaware of her bedmate the entire night?

  Perhaps she’d fallen asleep at Lady Elmira’s bedside. Yes, that must be it. It had happened on occasion, especially during particurly rough evenings when their mistress’s aches and pains troubled her.

  Dressing and washing, Philomena kept her eyes trained on their chamber door. She expected Victoria to show up at any moment to see to her own clothes and hair. Yet she didn’t. Nor did they meet outside for their morning chore at the well. Philomena was forced to draw the bucket while Constance did double duty toting bowls and containers inside.

  “Where could she have gotten to?” Constance compined, stumbling with one particurly hefty pot of water for the kitchen.

  “She must be with Lady Elmira,” Philomena insisted, not entirely certain she was trying to reassure herself more of that likelihood than expin it to Constance. The st few days had just felt so strange at Sommer Steppe. Mister Reeve was gone with no expnation. Now, she worried her friend might possibly have left as well.

  Yet there was no way Victoria would leave behind her clothes or belongings. She had nothing and no one else in the world.

  It was difficult to focus on their tasks while she worried and fretted. The logical part of her mind simply couldn’t persuade her to believe nothing was amiss. So, against her better judgment, she parted ways with Constance before breakfast to check with Lady Elmira. Constance, of course, protested. There were still at least a dozen or so buckets of water for their household needs to fill, and if she didn’t have the extra help then they were both going to fall behind.

  “I’ll take over the window washing today,” Philomena assured her, resenting that she had to bribe the other maid. There was something profoundly zy about Constance, and Philomena suspected it had something to do with how often she seemed to be coddled by the rest of the household merely for being the youngest.

  Victoria was not in Lady Elmira’s bedchamber with her. Nor was she in the kitchen, the servants quarters, or anywhere else in the house. Philomena began to feel sick to her stomach with worry as she circled the corridors and traversed the stairs a good half a dozen times before Mister Grady finally stopped her on the way to the kitchen.

  “Philomena, what on earth is wrong?” He asked, pcing a hand upon her shoulder. It was a fatherly gesture reserved for her and the other maids of the household. One she was more than happy to accept, with the way her heart was hammering in her chest. Something was wrong. She felt it now more than ever.

  “I can’t find Victoria anywhere, Mister Grady. I’m worried something happened to her st night. She didn’t come to bed and she wasn’t in the garden this morning. She hasn’t shown up for breakfast, or–”

  “Calm down, girl. Take a deep breath,” he advised, lowering his hand. “Now, you say Victoria is missing. Did you speak with Lady Elmira? Perhaps she is running an errand or assisting Mister Wilferd. I do believe he went to the vilge this morning to run errands for Mrs. Pragajh.”

  Philomena shook her head, “she wasn’t awake yet. Usually Victoria will attend her after breakfast.”

  “Have you had breakfast yet?” Mister Grady prompted, “you look like you could use a good meal.” He offered his arm, “come. We’ll discuss her whereabouts over some hot porridge.”

  She didn’t really believe they would have any meaningful revetions about Victoria, but Philomena’s stomach gave a lurch at the thought of breakfast. Truthfully, she hadn’t had much supper the previous evening. The worry and stress of her morning was beginning to get to her. So she joined Mister Grady for breakfast in the kitchen.

  Everyone else had already dined and set about the rest of their daily tasks. The only members of the household still in the kitchen were Lewis and Mrs. Pragajh, cleaning dishes and preparing sweets for Lord Albert’s afternoon tea. Doctor Prattel had advised good, strong libations to soak up their master’s poor choices the previous night.

  “Once you eat, see to Lady Elmira. If Victoria is not in fact already there with her now, she will need help with her morning toilette and dressing,” Mister Grady advised, settling in his chair with a steaming bowl of porridge heavily drenched in sweet cream and wild berries.

  Philomena shook her head, “I just don’t feel right. Something is wrong, Mister Grady.”

  At the cookfire, Mrs. Pragajh made a loud cnging sound with a sturdy pan as she set it over the coals. She turned back to look at Philomena, “the way I hear it, st night was a frightful supper. Now I don’t see as how Victoria has skin thin enough to dash off in the middle of the night, but perhaps she had a mind to. Mister Reeve did, after all.” She shook her head, “but that said, it isn’t likely.” She rubbed her hands on her apron and gave a soft grunt as she stepped back from the fire.

  Lewis pushed open the rder door and entered the kitchen, a heavy sack of grain over his shoulder. He hefted it down beside the isnd counter and gnced curiously over at Philomena and Mister Grady.

  “Late breakfast,” Philomena said softly, “we won’t be long.” She wondered if perhaps Thomas might have seen her friend depart with Mister Wilferd that morning. He was always up well before the cock crow.

  Just then, an unfamiliar face appeared in the kitchen doorway. Philomena looked up from her bowl of porridge Mister Grady had served her and was careful to hide her shock at the sight of the man. He was tall. Almost tall enough for his head to brush against the top of the doorframe. Certainly not a member of their household, which must mean he was the viscount’s man.

  His livery was a fine powder blue, in stark contrast with his bck hair and almost waxy pale skin. Childishly, she thought he looked like the stuff of nightmares. She tried not to stare.

  “Ah, Mister Aldman, yes?” Mrs. Pragajh called out to him, “forgive me, Doctor Prattel informed me this morning of your - - well, seeing as how it’s no one’s matter but yours, I won’t mention it. There’s some food if you’ve a mind to eat. I suppose you do, given you’re here in my kitchen. Don’t just stand in the door,” she gestured to him, “come in and meet some of the family. You’ll be here for a spell, no need to be shy.”

  Philomena watched Mrs. Pragajh talk, knowing any chance of getting a word in when the cook was in a chatty mood was unlikely. Aldman passed Philomena, crossing the room towards the cook to offer her a letter.

  Mrs. Pragajh smiled politely at him, unphased by his disturbing scowl, and examined the paper.

  “Ah, well that’s a blessing if ever I had one,” she remarked, squinting and holding the letter a little closer as she read. “You let your master know we are more than grateful for the extra hands and supplies. My bones tell me it’s to be a harsh winter, so I can’t say as the pair of you weren’t sent by angels.”

  She folded the letter up and pointed towards a rge pot on the table still half-full of porridge, “help yourself. Plenty left.”

  Philomena couldn’t pretend curiosity wasn’t nagging her to try to get a glimpse of the letter, or to ask what exactly Mrs. Pragajh was talking about that concerned Aldman’s problem. If Doctor Prattel had told her, Philomena couldn’t even begin to imagine what might be wrong with him.

  She’d have asked, or at least thought to ask, if it weren’t for the sudden shrill ring of Lady Elmira’s morning bell.

  “Eat quick, girl,” Mister Grady advised softly, “if I see Victoria before tea, I’ll be sure to let you know.” The chances of Mister Wilferd getting back to Sommer Steppe so early were slim, but Philomena was grateful that someone was keeping an eye out for her friend. She really hoped Victoria was okay.