A Design of Deceit (The Dickinson Sisters Mysteries Book 5) Page 8

  She looked away almost immediately, her smile returning as she examined the filigree detail I had sewn into the sleeves. “Oh, I am being silly, aren’t I? It is as if I am afraid of my own shadow.”

  “And what a lovely shadow you do have, Lady Wilson,” Mrs. Adams said with a firm nod. “Perhaps one of the loveliest I have ever had the honor of seeing.”

  Strange how Mrs. Adams refuses to comment on Lady Wilson’s ailments…or worries.

  “What do you think, Miss Dickinson?” Lady Wilson asked.

  I blinked, pausing in my hemming. “What do I think of what, Lady Wilson?” I asked, doing my best to steady my now somewhat shaky hand.

  “Of my circumstances,” she said. “Do you think it possible for someone to be frightened of something that does not truly exist?”

  This matter had changed entirely. At first, it had been nothing more than an illness. Then, she had confided in me at the shop that she was frightened someone was after her, that someone might try and take her life. She had confided the same in Nash but it seemed that her husband would not take what she said seriously. Why could that be?

  More than likely, he did not want his wife to worry herself so much that she became even more ill. Or it was entirely possible that he had grown tired of her worries, truly believing that nothing at all was wrong.

  Or perhaps…

  Was it at all possible that the reason he had become so dismissive was because Lord Wilson knew something about his wife’s condition, something he did not wish her to become aware of?

  “Miss Dickinson, the expression on your face tells me that I might very well have something to be worried about,” Lady Wilson said, her brow furrowing.

  “Oh,” I said, the color in my cheeks deepening. “N – No, Lady Wilson. I – I do not know. I believe that you are truly feeling the way you do, but as to the cause, I do not have the slightest idea.”

  Lady Wilson studied me for a moment in the mirror and then sighed, shaking her head. “Of course. How could I expect someone like you to have the answers I need? Even Doctor Webb cannot explain what ails me…”

  I swallowed hard, doing my best to hurry and finish the hemming.

  “I simply hope that my greatest fear is not realized…” Lady Wilson said. “For I am afraid that I will simply not wake one morning.”

  10

  “This is no time to say such things,” Lady Wilson said not a moment later, taking a step away from me.

  I quickly pressed the pin through the fabric as I felt it tug out of my hands.

  “Will this suffice, Miss Dickinson?” Lady Wilson asked.

  “Yes, my Lady,” I said, getting to my feet. “I should be able to have the dress completed within just a few days, ready for your enjoyment.”

  “Wonderful news,” Mrs. Adams said. “Just in time for that dinner party you’ve been looking forward to.”

  Lady Wilson nodded. “Now, help me out of this dress so that Miss Dickinson can pack it up before I manage to ruin it.”

  “And then I shall be on my way,” I said. “I do not wish to intrude any longer.”

  “Oh, good heavens, dear,” Lady Wilson said, rounding on me with a look of concern. “You intend to leave?”

  “Well…yes,” I said. How would I expect anything else?

  “No, no,” Lady Wilson said. “You must stay for dinner.”

  I stared at her. Had I heard her correctly?

  “Nash came in the carriage and I shall send you both back to town in it as soon as we have finished our meal. I could not send you walking back when darkness is falling,” Lady Wilson said, gesturing toward the window. “And not only the darkness but it seems those clouds have grown heavy as well.”

  “Yes, indeed, my Lady,” Mrs. Adams said. “I am almost certain we will be seeing our first snow.”

  My stomach twisted into tighter knots. It seems my suspicions were correct, as well…

  “Would that be acceptable to you, then?” Lady Wilson asked.

  “Yes, my Lady,” I said, bowing my head. “It would be an honor.”

  “Very good,” she said. “Let us get this dress packed up once again and then we can be on our way downstairs.”

  Mrs. Adams and I did just that. We spent the next quarter of an hour getting Lady Wilson ready once more in her own dress.

  As I tucked her gown carefully back into the box to take it home, Lady Wilson called for her shawl.

  “Right away, ma’am,” the maid said and disappeared through a door into Lady Wilson’s sleeping chamber.

  “There we are,” Lady Wilson said when she had returned. “Come along, Miss Dickinson. The gentlemen will be quite impatient if we make them wait any longer for their meals.”

  She waved me toward the door and I hurried after her.

  As we walked down the hall, I could not help but contemplate how strange this day had turned out to be. In all my life, I never would have expected to be invited to stay for dinner with them, as if I was part of the family.

  If Nash and I ever marry, then I will be part of the family. Is this simply their way of acknowledging that possibility? Did Nash have some sort of say?

  How could he have? He had no idea I was to be here tonight…

  That meant Lady Wilson had asked me to stay of her own volition. Did she suspect Nash’s feelings for me? Was she aware of his advances toward me?

  “You are awfully quiet, Miss Dickinson,” Lady Wilson said as we descended the stairs. “I hope you do not find me to be displeasing company.”

  “Not at all, my Lady,” I said. “I am simply in awe at your kindness and your hospitality.”

  Lady Wilson gave me a small smile. “Well, thank you, dear girl. I do pride myself on my hospitality. George always tells me it was one of the many reasons why he chose me to marry.”

  We made a turn down a corridor and found ourselves standing just outside the dining room. It was a handsome space with a large table filled with glistening silver trays, plates, and bowls. The wall had been papered in a lovely emerald green and the high-backed chairs seated around were taller than Nash, who I could just see from where we stood.

  “Hornsby, tell Mr. Burns that we are to have one more for dinner,” Lady Wilson said to the butler standing outside the dining room. “Miss Dickinson shall be joining us.”

  Hornsby bowed low. “Certainly, my Lady.”

  He turned and walked away.

  “My dear, what is this I hear?” Lord Wilson asked from the head of the table, seated right in front of the roaring fireplace. “Miss Dickinson is staying for dinner?”

  “Indeed she is,” Lady Wilson said as two servants pulled out her chair at the opposite end of the table. “She is a dear friend of our Nash. And I could not very well send her home now. It is far too dark. I could not live with myself if something were to happen to her. Bandits or vagabonds. You never know.”

  Lord Wilson sighed impatiently. “Good heavens. Inviting your seamstress to dinner…I have given you great leeway as of late for your eccentricities but I am beginning to think that you are taking advantage of my concern.”

  “Taking advantage of you?” Lady Wilson asked, furrowing her brow. “My dear, I would never think of it.”

  “Yet you tell me over and over of your fears of being struck down in the corridors,” Lord Wilson said. “Then I come to find that you have forbidden anyone from being in the garden with you apart from Mrs. Adams during the morning. How is anyone to get their work done when you have prevented them from it? I do not pay them to sit around and play cards…” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  It surprised me how easily he had become annoyed with Lady Wilson. From the way he spoke to her, it seemed this was the sort of conversation they had regularly.

  Lady Wilson ignored him. “Calvin, please seat Miss Dickinson here, nearer to me,” she said. “I am certain that will make Nash quite happy, so they may speak with one another.”

  One of the servants approached and pulled out a chair just two down
from Lady Wilson. I did my best to lower myself into the seat in as poised a manner as I could, trying to keep as straight-backed and composed as possible.

  My sister and I, with the humble professions we had, were never invited to these sorts of dinners. There was never any cause for it.

  Nash caught my eye across the table and grinned at me.

  At once, all the nerves, all the anxiousness, seemed to melt away. For a moment, all I could think about was him.

  Would these sorts of events become more common if he and I were to be married? He visited his aunt and uncle often enough that it was highly likely we would come here for dinners.

  I looked down at my lap, suddenly embarrassed.

  “My dear, you will be pleased to see the results of the dress that Miss Dickinson has made for me,” Lady Wilson said as the first course was set before us all.

  “Will I?” her husband asked. “That rather gaudy red thing you showed me?”

  I felt my heart sink. Would he be put off by my work, then?

  “Uncle, you will certainly not think that way when you get a real look at it,” Nash said. “Miss Iris is an excellent seamstress. I am sure if there is anything you wish, she would be able to – ”

  “I am quite happy with my own tailor, thank you very much,” Lord Wilson said, cutting Nash off in midsentence.

  The pink that seemed to be permanently residing in my face only grew darker.

  “Come now, George, you have not even seen it,” Lady Wilson said. “It is a fine dress, most fetching, and – ”

  Her husband interrupted, his tone growing harsh. “I do not need to see Miss Dickinson’s work to realize that it was nothing more than a foolish errand on your part. I have had enough of these distractions, these – these escapades as you flit around looking for anything that might occupy your thoughts from something that you believe is chasing you.”

  Lady Wilson stared at Lord Wilson, her expression frigid.

  “Uncle, I believe that – ”

  “You are doing nothing to help her, Nash,” Lord Wilson said, shifting his gaze to his nephew. “If anything, I fear you have encouraged her to believe that something might actually be wrong.”

  “But Uncle – ”

  “No,” Lord Wilson said, getting to his feet. “No, I shall not hear of this. There is not a thing wrong with your aunt. Nothing at all. She has allowed this – this fear to consume her. And frankly, I am tired of it. I shall hear nothing more of it. Do I make myself clear?”

  Lady Wilson did not have to speak in order for everyone in the room to understand perfectly what it was she meant to say. The daggers in her gaze were burning hot.

  “Uncle, I – ”

  “Do I make myself clear?” Lord Wilson bellowed.

  Silence fell over the room.

  I bent my head, my chin touching my chest. I would have liked nothing more than for the chair in which I sat to swallow me whole. I did not wish to make eye contact with anyone else. Not even Nash, who I knew must have been most distressed in that moment.

  Did Lord Wilson truly care so little for his own wife? The poor woman, terrified that someone might be looking to harm her, was dismissed without so much as a word of concern.

  “I was only going to say, my dear,” Lady Wilson said in a restrained voice a few minutes later. “That I might do well to go see Doctor Webb once more, for this trouble sleeping – ”

  “What did I say?” Lord Wilson demanded. “I said that you are not to speak of this anymore. It is done. You are not to worry about it any longer.”

  “George, this is preposterous,” Lady Wilson said. “If I speak of nothing else, it is because I can think of nothing else. You must put yourself in my position. What might you think if you felt eyes watching you around every corner? If it seemed that no matter what you did, you could not feel well enough to carry out your normal activities throughout the day? If you felt faint, the room spinning every time you stood to your feet? And it only gets worse as the days pass?”

  Lord Wilson rose to his feet and glared down the length of the table.

  “My Lord?”

  The tension in room broke as Hornsby appeared in the doorway. He seemed unperturbed by the clear antagonism in the room.

  “What is it, Hornsby?” Lord Wilson snapped, his eyes narrow slits.

  “Mr. Carter has arrived.”

  At once, Lord Wilson’s demeanor changed. He stood straighter, the anger dissolved from his face.

  “Thank heaven for that,” he said. “It is about time. Show him in, Hornsby.”

  Hornsby bowed and then withdrew from the room.

  “Mr. Carter?” Lady Wilson asked. “Who is this Mr. Carter?”

  My own thoughts raced. I know that name from somewhere. But how?

  Lord Wilson resumed his seat. The blotchiness of his cheeks still remained but his expression had smoothed as he pulled his chair in toward the table.

  “Mr. Carter…” Nash said. “I have heard you mention him before.”

  “Indeed,” Lord Wilson said. “He is a man of great reputation. I knew that his services would be up to my standards.”

  Services?

  I searched my mind for the name. I had heard it recently. And only in passing, it seemed –

  My eyes widened. Lily! Lily mentioned meeting a Mr. Carter!

  Hornsby returned a moment later with a man trailing in behind him.

  “Lord Wilson, Lady Wilson, Mr. Greenwood…Miss Dickinson,” he said. “May I present Mr. Carter?”

  Hornsby gestured to the man beside him, who stepped out to bow to the room.

  “How do you do?” the man asked.

  Rather handsome, he stood nearly as tall as Nash but with dark hair and vibrantly green eyes. The coat he wore seemed to match his eyes. His hair and the closely trimmed beard he sported were dark.

  “Welcome, Mr. Carter,” Lord Wilson said, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to my home.”

  11

  “George, who is this man?” Lady Wilson asked from her seat at the table. The high spots of color still glowed in her cheeks, the anger still knitting wrinkles in her forehead. “Why have you invited him and not told me anything about it?”

  Lord Wilson rose from his seat and crossed the room in a few, quick strides to shake Mr. Carter’s hand. “Thank you for coming. And on such short notice.”

  “It was my pleasure, Lord Wilson,” Mr. Carter said.

  I like his smile. It seems warm.

  I remembered Lily speaking of him. She had met him here, at the Grangehurst estate, during her investigation into Mr. Shaw’s murder. I remembered the way she described him.

  She fancied him, though she would never have admitted it. I could tell.

  He had been a guest at a party that Lord and Lady Wilson had thrown. Was he a friend? Perhaps a new acquaintance? Why is he here? Why does Lord Wilson seem so utterly relieved now that he has arrived?

  I glanced over at Nash, who watched Mr. Carter with great care, looking back to his aunt on occasion. He seemed as confused as she. He caught my eye and the question in his gaze sent nervousness through my veins. I realized that Nash was not privy to every aspect of his aunt and uncle’s lives but he seemed troubled not to be any more aware of what was occurring than his aunt.

  “My dear, this is Mr. Carter,” Lord Wilson said. “Do you not remember him from our luncheon some weeks back?”

  Lady Wilson squinted at Mr. Carter. “No,” she said sharply, returning her attention to the soup before her. “I do not recognize or remember him.”

  Lord Wilson’s face briefly betrayed his frustration but soon a mask of cool calm replaced it. “Worry not, Mr. Carter. She will be pleased to learn the reason I have asked you here. Now, Hornsby, if you would have another place set at the table?”

  “You become angry when I invite a guest to join us for dinner and yet you have gone and done the very same?” Lady Wilson muttered, clearly aghast. “Unbelievable…”

  She set her napkin down upon the t
able and rose from her seat, the chair making a terrible sound as it skidded across the wooden floorboards. “I am going to retire for the evening. If you will excuse me – ”

  “You will not be going anywhere,” Lord Wilson said, his tone flat and final.

  I looked nervously over at Lady Wilson. She had puffed up like a bird, much like she had in our shop after the injured bat had frightened her so, as well as after she had been told she had to remain at the Shield and Thistle inn during the investigation of Mr. Ingram’s death. “Is that so?” she challenged.

  “You will sit down and listen to why I have invited Mr. Carter here in the first place,” Lord Wilson said. “You have put me through enough nonsense that you should be more than able to sit for a few minutes and allow me to explain.”

  Lady Wilson glowered at him across the table, but after a hard moment, she begrudgingly sat and allowed the servants waiting anxiously behind the chairs to push her in once more.

  “There,” Lord Wilson said, buttoning up the front of his jacket, puffing out his chest in much the same way his wife had. “Now…Mr. Carter, would you allow me to introduce you properly to my wife?”

  “Indeed, I should be most pleased,” Mr. Carter said with a smile toward Lady Wilson.

  Lord Wilson cleared his throat. “My dear, Mr. Carter is a conductor of private inquiries. He discreetly investigates delicate matters for wealthy clients who do not wish to have their personal business becoming public gossip. I have hired him to help us sort out whatever this is that you are dealing with.”

  Lady Wilson’s mouth opened to argue but then her hard expression suddenly softened as his words sank in.

  “Uncle, I thought you believed my aunt to be perfectly well,” Nash said. “You have said so, time and time again. Yet you hire an investigator as if you have changed your mind?”

  “I have not changed my mind, lad,” Lord Wilson said. “I have done nothing of the sort.”

  He looked across the long table to his wife, a sudden flicker of sympathy crossing his face.

  “My dear, hearing you suffer had become unbearable for me. For all of us. I could not stand to hear you in pain any longer.”