Hounds of Autumn by Heather Blackwood Read Free Book Online

Haynes, she would be without much in the way of social interaction. If Robert had been young enough to still need a governess, she may have had company. But as it stood, Miss Haynes was in a higher category than scullery maids, chambermaids, bootboys and coachmen. Her only peers would be the housekeeper and the other lady’s maids. It would be inappropriate to keep company with the footmen and butler since they were male.
    “I suppose we’ll just have to make do,” said Chloe as Miss Haynes patted the last of her hair into place and handed her the hand mirror to check her handiwork.
    “We always do, mum.”
    Miss Haynes pulled a cameo necklace from her pocket and fastened it around Chloe’s neck.
    “The servants were all abuzz about your friend’s death,” said Miss Haynes. “Many of them think that Mrs. Granger had a paramour in town or a foreign lover who she was going to run off with. But the loudest arguments came from two of the maids who think her husband killed her in a jealous rage and a loud-mouthed footman who thinks it was her mechanical.”
    “Her mechanical? You mean her hound?” Chloe remembered seeing the early schematics and descriptions of Camille Granger’s mechanical pet. They had worked on their companion animals roughly at the same time, and Chloe had dearly wanted to see the hound and learn of any possible improvements she could make to Giles.
    “Yes. It seems like people around here are much more suspicious of mechanicals than back home. They just don’t like them.”
    “But how could a mechanical like Giles kill anyone? Even a larger animal couldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. Why did the footman think it was the hound?”
    “I don’t think he had good reason, aside from having an excuse to argue with the pretty maids. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t like mechanicals, though. Most of the locals seemed to think that anything beyond a household mechanical is dangerous.”
    “Did they say anything else? Are they afraid of Giles?”
    The cat was resting on the bed and, hearing his name, raised his head and blinked.
    “I don’t think so, mum.”
    Chloe rose, smoothed the skirt of her gray and white Sunday dress and turned so Miss Haynes could inspect her. The cut of the dress was modest and simple for Sunday morning church, though a tad tight through the waist. She had put on a good half a stone over the past few months. Too many rich desserts back home.
    Miss Haynes nodded her approval.
    “Now, don’t get in any trouble asking questions,” said Chloe.
    “I’ll be discreet.”

Chapter 7
    A n hour and a half later, Ambrose and Chloe walked into St. George’s church for Sunday services. It stood at the edge of Farnbridge, on the older side of the town. This set it within easy walking distance of the miners and working class people who nodded and touched their hats as the Sullivans descended from the carriage. A second and third carriage rolled up smartly behind them, carrying the Aynesworth family.
    The church was a long, gray stone building with a row of round-topped windows along each side. Over the two thick wooden doors, a trio of stone rabbits leaped in an endless circle, nose to tail, beneath a stone cross. An unfenced churchyard stood behind, crumbling and newer tombstones crowded together.
    Inside, strange faces peered out from stone greenery on either side of a wooden cross and carved stags leapt over the tops of the windows. The stained glass windows were done in a newer style, all of them depicting saints or scenes from the life of Christ. The largest window, which stood over the altar, depicted St. George, lance outthrust, slaying a roaring dragon.
    The building was barely large enough to hold the local congregation, and the Sullivans pressed snugly against the Aynesworths in the narrow family pew. At a rising murmur of voices from the back of the church, heads around them turned and a few people raised their hands in greeting. A man with a leg missing from the