From novel by Kate Morton, "The House at Riverton"
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London: Pan Macmillan.

{the "I" of the story is a housemaid}

p.223:

[NP] I had cleaned and reset the fire and was finishing up dusting. I
ran the cloth across the top of the writing desk, ..., then started on
the drawer handles, ... . It was a regular duty, ... and I cannot say
what set that day apart. Why that morning as my fingers reached the
left-hand drawer they slowed, stopped, refused to recommence their
cleaning. As if they glimpsed before I did the furtive purpose that
fluttered on the edges of my thoughts.
[NP]
I sat a moment, perplexed, unable to move. And I became aware of the
sounds around me. The wind outside, ... . The mantel clock ticking
insistently, ... My breath, grown quick with expectation.
[NP]
Fingers trembling, I began to slide it open.


p.264: {concerning incidents of another servant, Akfred, being clumsy,
           etc. as a result of injury in war}

[NP] But though I wished to believe this simple explanation [i.e., that
Alfred was out of practice with his work], I could not. For in a small
pocket of my mind a collection of motley incidents -- no, not so much as
that -- a collection of motley observations was forming.