They remained quiet for the rest of the trip, with Amy huddled in the corner watching the raindrops slide down the window. William was lost in his thoughts and studied his hands, fingers linked together, resting in his lap.
Amy turned toward William. “I do hope we are not turned away. I’m afraid I might make a ninny of myself and force my way into her house.” When he did not answer, she said, “You are exceptionally quiet. Is anything wrong?”
William shook his head. “No. I just have this feeling that we are missing something. I’m running the suspects through my mind and feel as though I am looking at a puzzle with a piece missing of which I should be aware. Something that caught my eye at one point that slithered away, and now I can no longer recall.”
“My, that sounds quite ominous. I, on the other hand, am hoping this visit to Miss Hemphill will clear it all up and I can go back to thinking about fictional murders, not real ones where I am the main suspect.”
The neighborhood had gone from upper crust to lower middle class. The homes were smaller, one or two streetlights were broken, and in another block or two they would be in the lower end of Bath. The area where one did not travel after dark. Amy looked out the window. “I do hope we are almost there.”
“Based on the neighborhood, I must admit I feel the same way.”
“We should have brought a gun.”
“No.” The word had no sooner left William’s mouth than the carriage rolled to a stop. “It appears we have arrived.”
He climbed out and took the umbrella from the driver, turned, and helped Amy out of the vehicle. They made their way up the path to the front door. The steps were cracked and in need of repair, and it had clearly been some time since the wooden door was painted.
“Do you know anything about Miss Hemphill’s financial state?” William asked as he dropped the knocker on the door.
Amy shook her head. “Only that she didn’t have enough blunt to bail out St. Vincent’s business, which is why he proposed to me, I assume. There could be no other reason, because we hardly had a fancy for each other.”
Slowly the door opened, and a young girl peered out at them. She was no more than sixteen years old, with short, blonde curly hair hidden unsuccessfully under a white mobcap. “Yes, sir.”
“Lord Wethington and Lady Amy Lovell calling on Miss Hemphill.” He held out his card to the girl.
She stared at it for a moment as if she expected it to bite her. “Miss Hemphill rents a room here. I can take your card and knock on her door.”
“That’s fine.” When she continued to stare at them, William said, “May we come in to wait? It is rather wet out here.”
“Oh, yes, of course, my lord. Please accept my apologies.” She stepped back to allow them to enter. William closed the umbrella and, not seeing an umbrella stand, leaned it against a corner wall.
“I will be just a minute.”
Amy pulled the collar of her coat closer. ’Twas quite cold in the house, and that, combined with her wet clothes, brought on a chill.
They waited about five minutes before the girl returned. “I am sorry, m’lord, but Miss Hemphill is not answering her door.”
“Did she go out?”
“No. I am sure she did not, because I brought her soup and bread for her lunch since she said she was feeling poorly. I would have heard her come down the stairs, since I’ve been working in the parlor and dining room since then.”
Frustrated, Amy glanced over at William. She had no intention of leaving without speaking to the woman. “Would it be permissible for us to try to rouse her? It is quite important that we speak with her. Perhaps she is taking a nap.”
The girl looked confused at their question but eventually shrugged. “Mrs. Hubbard, the landlady, isn’t at home for me to ask, but I guess it would be all right.”
They climbed the stairs, the worn wood creaking and groaning with their weight as they made their way up. “Which door?” William called down to the girl, who had remained at the entranceway.
“Second one on the right.”’
“Thank you.” They found the correct door, and Amy knocked. “Miss Hemphill?”
No answer.
“Miss Hemphill,” William said as he knocked a bit harder.
No answer.
They tried three more times until finally Amy said, “Try the door latch.”