A Design of Deceit (The Dickinson Sisters Mysteries Book 5) Read online

  My face flooded with pink.

  Soon after, Mrs. Adams came to fetch me. “Come along, Miss, come along,” she said in a sing-song sort of way. “Your room awaits and it is growing late.”

  I gave Nash a look that must have revealed my concern, for he returned my look with one of warmth. “I shall see you first thing in the morning for breakfast, shall I?” he asked.

  I smiled in agreement as I followed Mrs. Adams out toward the stairs.

  The guest room that Lady Wilson had told Hornsby to open for me was, perhaps, the most immaculate room I had ever set foot in.

  Everything inside seemed to glisten. Velvet drapes matched the pair of wing-backed armchairs beside the fireplace. The rich mahogany table seemed to be polished, like the pair of double doors that had been thrown open to reveal a bed that was very nearly as large as the entire bedroom I shared with Lily. Part of me longed to throw myself upon it like a child, relishing the feel of the blankets against my cheeks as I lay there…

  With a jolt of fear, I suddenly remembered.

  “Lily!” I exclaimed.

  What would she say? She must be terribly worried –

  No. Lily has more sense than anyone I have ever known. Surely, she will have seen the weather turning and thought that this might be a possibility.

  However, when I left the shop earlier that afternoon, I never would have imagined that I would be stranded here. I had only hoped to deliver the dress…and perhaps see if Lady Wilson was at all well.

  Lily, however, would not be troubled as I was. She would know that the weather had become too dangerous to travel in, so naturally, she would expect me to stay the night…whether or not Lord or Lady Wilson fancied the idea. They may not have been the most pleasant people at times but they were not barbarians who would throw me out into the cold.

  I could only hope Lily did not fear that something had happened to me…that I might have been traversing home in the dark and cold, that I had slipped and fallen, perhaps into a ditch or a snowbank…

  I shook my head. No. Now was not the time to entertain such terrible thoughts…thoughts that were far too easy to think, explore, and continue to travel along –

  I redirected my attention to the room. I had barely stepped foot inside.

  Part of me felt frozen, I realized. This was Lady Wilson’s guest room for her personal guests, the room that she had prepared in the same hall as her own living quarters. I worried that my shoes carried too much dirt upon their soles or that the hem of my dress had not been properly washed and might stain the fabrics of the sofas if I were to sit upon them.

  It seemed as if the room itself was a work of art and that if I were to reside within, I might disturb it in some way.

  “Is everything all right, Miss?” It was the voice of Mrs. Adams, who had followed me up the stairs.

  The wind howled outside. Even where I stood on the opposite side of the room, I could see the snow blowing past the windows horizontally, already collecting in the panes of the window.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am simply very grateful for my Lady’s kindness, allowing me to stay the night.”

  “Oh, my Lady is generous, isn’t she?” Mrs. Adams said, stepping into the room, adjusting a vase upon a small, carved wooden table ever so slightly, sweeping away a nonexistent speck of dust from beside it. “I have never met someone as kindhearted and selfless as she.”

  I wonder how much of what this woman says is practiced or genuine…

  “Is there anything I can get for you? Some tea, perhaps?” Mrs. Adams asked.

  “No,” I said. “That is quite all right, thank you. I am still full from supper.”

  “Very well,” Mrs. Adams said. “If you are in need of anything, then please let one of the maids know and they will inform me. I should like your stay here to be the very best, as any stay in my Lady’s home should be.”

  With a bright smile, she turned and started down the hall, humming as she went.

  I could see how she brought some joy to the home, yet at the same time, her excessive energy made me wonder just how much of what she said and did was nothing more than an act.

  I closed the door to my room and let out a heavy sigh.

  It would be difficult to relax in a place that was not my own home but I must try. Lady Wilson had been kind enough to send along some clothing for me to sleep in, as I had nothing apart from the clothes I had brought with me.

  I do hope Lily is all right…and that she is not worrying about me.

  I realized as I shrugged off my coat that it was entirely a waste of time to spend my evening worrying about whether or not Lily was worried about me. I could do nothing about it if she were. I took solace from the fact that she would have peace once again when I was able to return home in the morning.

  As I readied myself for bed, I considered the conversation I had sat through over dinner. It seemed that Lord Wilson’s indifference had been nothing more than a fearful response to his wife’s ailments. A terrible response, to be sure, but he became distressed upon hearing about any sort of troubles she experienced.

  In a way, I realized, he had become frightened of losing her. If anything, his fear simply proved the depth of his love for her…something that I believed she could see after he introduced Mr. Carter.

  And that Mr. Carter…he was an enigma in and of himself, wasn’t he? Lily had met him briefly at the party and had been rather impressed by his manners and intelligence.

  Regardless of how quickly my mind raced, the exhaustion began to set in as I pulled on the nightgown that Lady Wilson had provided me. I missed the comfort of my own bed, of course, but as I slipped into the enormous one that I had the honor of sleeping in that night, I could not help but smile with utter delight.

  My head no sooner lay against the pillow than I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the sound of the wind outside lulling me there.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself in the same room.

  Darkness filled the space. The candle upon my side table had burned out. The only orientation I had came from the window, which let the smallest amount of light in. The snow had piled heavy upon the roof that I could see from my bed.

  Slowly, I rose from the bed, my bare feet falling upon a frigid floor, numbing the flesh. I walked carefully toward the door. I could not be sure what the time was.

  As I pulled it open, humming greeted me.

  I stopped, blinking. Who could be here in my room? Was it Mrs. Adams?

  A small, flickering light sat in the very corner of the room, beside the furthest window. Cautiously, I approached, noticing a silhouette in the chair facing away from me.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  The humming continued, a song that tugged at my memories. I recognized it but I could not place it. Nor could I confidently sing along with it.

  The floor creaked beneath my foot and the humming stopped.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I did not mean to – ”

  In the far distance, I heard a terrible scream, that of a child.

  The head of the silhouette lolled and fell backward, revealing a dead-eyed woman with a terrible wound in her head…as if she had been bludgeoned.

  I fell backward, a scream tearing from my mouth, falling, falling, falling…

  Gasping, I sat straight up.

  I was back in the bedroom, sitting in the middle of the large bed.

  The room, still dark and quiet, seemed just as it had been a moment ago.

  My heart thundered in my chest, slamming against my ribs as if it were a captured rabbit attempting to escape. My pulse pounded in my ears as I let my face fall into my hands, willing myself to calm down.

  It was a dream…it was nothing more than a dream.

  Even so…

  Carefully, I crawled out of the bed once again. It was as if my body wished to retrace the steps I had taken precisely. My feet swung down to the floor. I swallowed hard, my throat dry and raw, as if I had screamed out loud in truth. The wooden b
oard, like ice against the bottoms of my feet, sent shivers up my legs, causing goose pimples to appear on my skin. I reached for the robe Lady Wilson had left for me and tied it securely around me.

  At least that was a different action…now I am almost certain I am no longer dreaming.

  I placed my hand upon the door handle, listening hard for any sound in the sitting room. For several long, frightening moments, I held my breath, not daring to move as I waited…and waited.

  The blood rushing through my ears made it difficult to hear anything else and all I could see in my mind was the face of the woman, bloody and beaten, halfway indistinguishable –

  I chanced the door handle, which opened easily, innocently enough.

  When I peered out into the room beyond, my nervousness spiked, expecting to see a candle…

  Yet there was nothing there. No flickering light. No humming. No murdered woman.

  With a gulp, I relaxed ever so slightly. Already, my racing heart began to slow. I was indeed alone in the room.

  Nevertheless, I had to be utterly certain.

  I crossed the room, my bare feet padding against the icy floor boards, holding my arms tightly wrapped around me.

  The chair in question did indeed sit empty. It became clear as I approached but I went to lay my hand against the back of it, just to be certain, to have no doubts that my mother was indeed –

  My eyes widened, my heart falling to the floor.

  My mother. The woman – it was my mother –

  Why had I imagined such a terrible sight? What could have possibly come over me that would cause me to see her in such a horrific way?

  The other nightmare I had had came rushing back, reminding me of seeing her dead there, also.

  Had I…had I seen more than Lily had told me, those many years ago? Had I seen more than Lily had known about?

  I sank down into the chair, my hands trembling, the rapid beating starting up once again in my heart.

  No…this is nothing more than a result of the fears that Lady Wilson has been discussing. She herself has been frightened of something, or someone, in this house. Thinking through all this has lingered with me, leaving me to dream these terrible scenarios…

  Lily would have surely told me if something that horrific had happened to Mother. She would have known –

  I stopped.

  She would have known it would have troubled me greatly…

  She had tried to stop me from finding out, hadn’t she? For years, she had kept the contents of the trunk safely hidden away from me. It had been since she had allowed me to see inside the trunk that I had been experiencing these terrible nightmares.

  The mystery surrounding our mother’s death was simply that; a mystery. Neither Lily nor I knew precisely how it was that Mother had passed away…

  For the first time, however, I wondered two things.

  One, if it was at all possible that Lily was lying to me.

  And two…if it was possible that my memories were starting to bleed through to my dreams. Perhaps I was not far from remembering something that I would be a great deal better off never rediscovering.

  13

  The first greys of dawn had begun to filter through the trees outside the window before I found myself tired enough to fall back asleep. As much as I had tried not to think of my mother’s death, or the fact that it had been her face that I had seen so mangled in my dream, I could not clear my mind enough to do so.

  The longer I considered the possibilities, the more I began to think that Lily was not, in fact, responsible for these dreams. I could not imagine that after hiding the trunk for so long, she would still find reason to hide anything from me. If anything, I had seen a great improvement in her attitude toward me since she had revealed it. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders and she found it easy to speak with me on the subject.

  It seemed to me that the trunk had been nothing more than a means of preserving our mother’s memory. Lily never discussed how Mother had died, apart from the fact that it had happened when I was so young. How old did she say I was? Eight or nine, perhaps?

  In truth, a great deal of my life from before my father’s death eluded me as well. I remembered being told that he had died and that he had been very sick, which was why I had not seen him in so many days. I missed him greatly, of course, but living with our aunt and uncle had not been unpleasant, as I loved them and my cousins and had spent a great deal of my life with them already.

  The fact that my life as a child still remained such a great uncertainty had never troubled me. At least, not until now…

  When I eventually drifted off, I slept so hard that the rays of dawn streaming through the window across my pillow did nothing to wake me. Even the general bustle of the house did not rouse me.

  Mrs. Adams had even come in to offer me tea and still I slept.

  I slept far longer than I ever wanted to. So long, in fact, that I missed breakfast entirely.

  By the time I hurried to get myself dressed, ready, and downstairs, the meal had already been cleaned up and everyone was readying themselves to leave the dining room.

  I waited for Hornsby to alert Lord and Lady Wilson to my entrance and fell into a deep curtsy as soon as I entered.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Wilson,” I said. “I have no excuse for why I am so terribly late. I fear I have trampled upon your generosity.”

  “I was beginning to wonder if you might have perished in your bed, Miss Dickinson,” Lady Wilson said. “The only proof I had otherwise was Mrs. Adams’ report of you snoring rather loudly in response to her going in to fetch you.”

  My face turned scarlet. I could look at nothing apart from my own shoes. “I am perfectly certain that I have never been more mortified in all my life,” I said.

  “Well, there is no need for excessive apologies,” Lady Wilson said. “Nash convinced me that it is perfectly understandable for you to have slept in, just as he did.”

  I chanced a look at Nash, already seated at the table.

  He gave me a gentle smile. At once, all my fear disappeared.

  “He came down just a few moments before you,” Lady Wilson said. “He said he had a terrible time sleeping, as the wind kept him awake the majority of the night. He thought that might have been the same reason you, too, were late.”

  I admitted, “I did have trouble sleeping last night, my Lady, though it was not for lack of comfortable bed and warm clothes.”

  “Well, no matter,” Lady Wilson said. “I shall have Hornsby send for something small for you. You may take it in the dining room here if you so desire.”

  “My Lady, I could not possibly burden you any further,” I said. “I shall take your dress and return home, where I shall be able to finish the gown just as we discussed yesterday.”

  “The weather is far too dangerous to travel still, as the snow has not let up in the least,” Lady Wilson said. “It is almost impossible to see the gardens through the back windows in the conservatory. If it were at all possible, I would surely send you and Nash in the carriage back to town, but as it is, I have been advised by my coachmen that it would be deeply unwise, as the road itself would be utterly impossible to travel.”

  “Oh…” I said.

  That was worse news than I could have expected. Not only had I made an utter fool of myself but now I would be required to stay and suffer under the scrutiny of my failure.

  “There now, no need for the long face,” Nash said. “Come and sit down. If it would be all right, my dear aunt, I should like to sit with Miss Dickinson as she eats. I do not think it good for her to remain here alone and eat without any company. I shall join you and Uncle in the drawing room soon after, if it pleases you.”

  “Very well,” Lady Wilson said, rising to her feet. “Perhaps, Miss Dickinson, if I were able to locate the tools you might need, you could finish the dress while you are here today?”

  “I should like to very much, my Lady,” I said, doing my best to sm
ile and appear as grateful as I felt. “It should be no trouble at all.”

  “I am pleased to hear it,” she said. “I shall join my husband in the drawing room, then. Hornsby, if you would send for something for our guest to eat?”

  Hornsby, still standing near the door, bowed and disappeared back out into the hall.

  Lady Wilson excused herself from the room, and soon, only Nash and I remained.

  When the door closed behind Hornsby, Nash turned to look at me.

  I hurried to speak before he had the chance. “Nash, I am so terribly sorry. I never meant for you to have to defend me. I cannot believe I made such a fool of myself, coming down to breakfast as late as I did when Lady Wilson had been so kind as to – ”

  “Iris, it is perfectly all right,” Nash said in a low voice. “I promise you. My aunt was not at all upset.”

  “She wasn’t?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, though I fear it is for an unfortunate reason.”

  My stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

  “She is distracted this morning, with her own troubles,” he said. “I daresay she hardly noticed your absence until I wondered aloud where you might be.”

  “Is she feeling poorly again today?” I asked.

  Nash shrugged. “That I do not know. After her argument with my uncle last night, I thought she might have been aggravated. When he is as short with her as he was, she becomes agitated and then we do not often see much of her.”

  “I understand.” I looked around, suddenly realizing the absence of one of the guests. “Where is Mr. Carter?” I asked.

  “Already come to breakfast and gone again,” Nash said. “He arose early, keen to begin working for my uncle.”

  “He is rather impressive,” I said. “What did you think of him?”

  Nash folded his arms, letting out a heavy sigh. “I wish that my uncle would have entrusted such a task to Constable Brown but his petty dislike of the man has prevented him from seeing the good that the Constable has done as of late. I have tried speaking to him about that but he refuses to hear reason on the matter.”