Baleful Godmother Historical Romance Series Volume One

by Emily Larkin

  The landlady hesitated, and then said, “A pair of earrings. Diamond earrings.”

  Letty looked at the weeping chambermaid. “Did you take them?”

  The girl shook her head frantically. “No, ma’am!”

  “Do you know who took them?”

  “No!”

  Letty transferred her gaze to the landlady. “Your maid is telling the truth. The earrings must have been misplaced.”

  “Lady Shipley’s room has been searched twice, top to toe,” the landlady said heavily, and Letty saw that the grimness was a mask. Beneath it, the woman was almost as upset as the chambermaid. “And her luggage has been searched, too. I saw to it myself.”

  “Then perhaps Lady Shipley is mistaken. Perhaps she never brought the earrings with her at all.”

  “She wore them yesterday,” the landlady said, even more heavily. “And Martha here is the only one who’s been in that room.”

  No wonder the poor girl was distraught. A maidservant’s words against a noblewoman’s. The girl could find herself transported.

  “Lady Shipley doesn’t have a maid?”

  “Not with her. She was taken ill.”

  As was my fictitious maid. Letty began to feel a strong interest in meeting Lady Shipley. “I’m not familiar with Lady Shipley. Where does she come from?”

  “Yorkshire.”

  Very far away.

  “Where is she now? I’d like to speak with her.”

  The landlady glanced up the staircase. Letty’s ears caught the sound of slow, measured footsteps descending. The landlady heard them, too. She looked at Letty.

  “I promise I shan’t make matters worse,” Letty said. “And I will very likely make them much better.”

  The landlady hesitated a moment, then towed the maid down the last two steps to the landing and thrust the girl behind her, so she was half-hidden. Then she composed her face and folded her hands at her waist.

  The footsteps grew more audible. Creak, creak, went the stair treads. The stiff black bombazine hem of a gown appeared, and then the gown itself, and then its wearer’s face.

  Lady Shipley was a stout woman, with graying hair and a square fleshy face. She had a small, displeased mouth and an imperious nose. A high-crowned black bonnet sat on her head, and in one black-gloved hand she carried a black reticule. She halted on the final step and looked down her beaked nose at them.

  “Lady Shipley?” Letty asked.

  Lady Shipley stared coldly at her for several seconds, and then inclined her head. “I am Lady Shipley.”

  Letty listened to the clang in her ears, and felt her heartbeat speed up. “My name is Reid. I understand that you’ve lost some earrings. Perhaps I can help find them?”

  “They are not lost; they’ve been stolen.” The words were spoken in an icy, affronted voice—and were wholly false. Lady Shipley transferred her arctic glare from Letty to the landlady. “And if you expect me to pay my bill, when one of your thieving servants has stolen earrings worth three thousand pounds, you are quite mistaken!”

  The landlady opened her mouth, but Letty lifted two fingers in a tiny gesture, silencing her.

  “I understand that your room has been searched twice, but are you quite certain that the earrings are missing?”

  “Of course I’m certain!”

  Clang.

  “Perhaps they’re in your reticule? Or in a pocket?”

  Lady Shipley drew herself up majestically. “They most certainly are not!”

  Clang.

  Letty tried to smile diffidently. “Are you certain they’re not in a pocket? I myself have misplaced items in pockets.”

  “They are not in a pocket!” A bell-tone of truth underlay the irate voice.

  Letty’s eyes caught movement: coming up the stairs were the landlord and a wide-eyed, anxious young waiter. The landlord looked as grim as his wife.

  “Then your reticule, perhaps?”

  Lady Shipley swelled with indignation. “Of course they’re not in my reticule! Do you think I’ve not looked there a dozen times already?”

  Clang.

  The landlord hurried forward, his hands clasped in petition. “Lady Shipley—”

  Lady Shipley swung to face him. “I demand to leave this thieves’ den of a hotel!” she said, in a carrying voice. “I have never been more shocked in my life. You may be certain I shall tell all my acquaintances in London!” She caught sight of the maidservant, cringing behind the landlady, and swelled with wrath. “There she is! That nasty little thief! Why is she not clapped in irons? Where is the constable?”

  The landlord gestured to the white-faced waiter. The lad turned and hurried down the stairs.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Letty said. “Lady Shipley’s earrings have not been stolen.”

  Everyone swung to face her. The waiter halted on the stairs, and looked back up at her.

  “Lady Shipley’s earrings are in her reticule.”

  Lady Shipley inhaled an outraged breath, her chest swelling majestically. “They most certainly are not!”

  Clang.

  Letty smiled politely. “They’re in your reticule, Lady Shipley. I suggest you take another look.”

  Lady Shipley clutched the reticule to her bosom. “I have never been so insulted in my life!”

  “On second thoughts,” Letty said. “Perhaps we should call for a constable, and he can look in your reticule?”

  Lady Shipley lifted her jowled chin even higher. Was that panic in the dark eyes? “I refuse to listen to any more of this nonsense.”

  Letty glanced down the staircase and met the waiter’s eyes. “Fetch the constable. And hurry!”

  A spasm of panic crossed Lady Shipley’s face. “No! Wait!”

  The waiter halted in mid-step.

  There was a long moment of silence, when no one moved. Letty saw Lady Shipley swallow convulsively, saw her eyes dart from side to side as if looking for an escape.

  “Would you like to check it now, while we’re all here? That way no mistakes can be made.” Letty caught the landlord’s eye and tried to convey a message.

  The man must have understood it. He stepped forward. “A good idea. Best to check, before the constable comes.” His voice was not quite neutral, and held a hint of steel.

  An occasional table stood in the corridor. The landlord took the vase from it and gave it to his wife, then opened his hand in a gesture. “You may empty your reticule here, Lady Shipley.”

  Lady Shipley clutched the reticule more tightly to her massive bosom. “I had rather do it in my room.”

  “I had rather you did it here.” The steel was unmistakable this time.

  Lady Shipley hesitated.

  The landlord glanced down the staircase. “Walter, the constable.”

  The waiter didn’t move; Lady Shipley did. She stalked forward and opened her reticule and began laying items on the little table: a handkerchief, a bottle of scent, a second handkerchief, hartshorn and sal volatile, a coin purse. “There! You see? No earrings.”

  “Tip it up,” Letty suggested. “They may have fallen to the bottom.”

  Lady Shipley glared at her.

  “Yes, tip it up,” the landlord said. “Or the constable can.”

  Lady Shipley pressed her lips together, and tipped the reticule upside down. A tiny object wrapped in black ribbon and fastened with a pin fell out.

  They all looked at it. Lady Shipley was breathing heavily through her nose.

  “Would you like to open it, Lady Shipley?” the landlord said, his tone barely cordial. “Or shall I?”

  Lady Shipley fumbled with the pin and unwrapped the black ribbon. Inside lay two diamond earrings.

  The waiter came up the stairs. He peered over his employer’s shoulder.

  “Fetch the constable, Walter,” the landlord said.

  “No!” cried Lady Shipley. “It was a mistake! I forgot!”

  Clang. Clang.

  The landlord glanced at his wife, who stood with tightly
folded lips holding the vase.

  “I would suggest that you do send for the constable,” Letty said quietly. “This woman isn’t who she claims to be. Her name is not Lady Shipley.”

  Lady Shipley drew a deep breath. “How dare you!” she said in a throbbing voice.

  The woman certainly looked the part of a dowager noblewoman—the black bombazine, the imperious nose, the haughty manner—but Letty rather thought she was an adventuress. “Have you done this before? To avoid paying your bill?”

  “How dare you insinuate such a thing!”

  “Have you?”

  Lady Shipley drew herself up even higher. “Of course not!”

  Clang.

  Letty met the landlord’s eyes. “Send for the constable. Tell him that this woman’s name isn’t Lady Shipley and that she’s played this trick before.” Her gaze shifted to the tear-stained chambermaid, half-hidden behind the landlady. “Some other poor girl may have been accused of theft.”

  The landlord nodded. “Walter,” he said, not looking at the waiter. “Fetch the constable.” He smiled tightly at the false Lady Shipley. “Madam, I suggest you wait here, in this parlor.” He took two steps sideways and opened a door. “My wife and I will wait with you.”

  Lady Shipley fumbled her belongings back into the reticule. Her face was blotched with color, her hands trembling. Letty felt no pity for her.

  The landlady placed the vase back on the little table. “Martha, go wash your face, dear,” she said in a low voice, and then she met Letty’s eyes and gave a nod. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Reid.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The echo of the waiter’s rapid footsteps died away. Lady Shipley reluctantly entered the parlor. The landlady followed, looking martial. The chambermaid departed down the stairs, wiping her face.

  The landlord paused in the parlor doorway, looking at Letty. “Madam? Will you wait for the constable with us?”

  Letty suddenly remembered that her own identity in Exeter was as false as Lady Shipley’s. She shook her head and tried to sound regretful: “We’re leaving shortly. I’m certain you won’t need my testimony; you and your wife witnessed everything I did.”

  The landlord nodded. “We’re very much obliged to you.” He stepped into the parlor and closed the door.

  Letty stood for a moment in the empty corridor. She blew out a breath.

  “That was masterful!”

  Letty jumped, and jerked round.

  Sir Barnaby’s wife stood in the half-open doorway of another private parlor, petite and pregnant, her bright blue eyes fixed intently on Letty’s face. “One might almost have thought it was magic, the way you could tell she was lying.”

  “Oh, no! Not magic!” Letty said, hearing the clang in her own words. “Just a knack.”

  Lady Ware shook her head. “I have a knack for seeing when people lie, but I couldn’t have done what you just did. To me, it looked like magic.”

  “It wasn’t,” Letty said, and felt herself color. If Lady Ware truly did have a knack, she’d know that for a lie.

  Lady Ware’s lips twitched in a smile. Her head cocked to one side. “I could almost believe you had a Faerie godmother,” she said, musingly. “You don’t, do you, by any chance?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Letty’s heart seemed to halt for an instant. What had Lady Ware just said?

  “I have a Faerie godmother,” Lady Ware said. “A terrifying creature! She has the blackest eyes and teeth like a fox. Her name’s Baletongue.”

  Letty stared at her, struck speechless.

  Lady Ware grinned. Dimples sprang to life in her cheeks. “You do have a Faerie godmother. I can tell from your face.”

  Letty swallowed, and found her voice. “Baletongue?”

  “That’s what my mother called her. No one knows her true name.”

  Letty swallowed again. She heard her heartbeat in her ears. “My mother called her Baletongue, too.”

  Lady Ware opened the door to the parlor wide. “Well, come in, then! Don’t stand out there in the corridor!”

  Letty obeyed, feeling dazed.

  Lady Ware gestured to a chair. “We must be cousins. How long are you here? Charlotte will want to meet you!”

  “Charlotte?”

  “Countess Cosgrove. She’s one of us, too.” Lady Ware sat and leaned forward, her gaze avid. “To think that we’re cousins!”

  Letty stared back. “You’re Sir Barnaby Ware’s wife?”

  Lady Ware promptly held out her hand. “Anne Ware, but you must call me Merry. Everyone does!”

  Charlotte shook hands with her. Lady Ware’s handclasp was firm. “My name’s Letitia. Letty.”

  “I know who you are. You were pointed out to me in London. But I didn’t know we were cousins.” Lady Ware’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Or that you’d married. I must have missed that announcement in the newspapers! Who is Mr. Reid?”

  Letty felt her face grow warm. She looked away from that bright, eager stare. “I’m not married. My relationship with Mr. Reid is purely business.” Clang. She hurried on: “He needed my knack, and it was easier to travel together if we pretended to be married, but we’re not.” She glanced back at Lady Ware. “No one knows I’ve come here, you see.”

  “You’re traveling incognito?” Lady Ware’s eyebrows lifted. She didn’t look outraged; she looked fascinated.

  Letty bit her lip, and nodded.

  “How thrilling!” From her expression, Lady Ware was bursting with questions.

  Letty hurried into speech: “You saw me in London? I’m afraid I don’t recall meeting you.”

  “Oh, we never met,” Lady Ware said, cheerfully. “I moved in different circles to you. But you were pointed out to me on several occasions.”

  Letty pulled a face. “The great heiress?”

  “The great heiress who wouldn’t marry.” Lady Ware’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Did you refuse them all because they were lying?”

  Letty nodded.

  “Then you’ve had your gift for a while?”

  Letty nodded again. “Since I was twenty-one.”

  “It was twenty-five with Charlotte and me.” Lady Ware jumped to her feet and crossed to the window and peered out. “Oh, how I wish Charlotte were here! She will so want to meet you!” She turned to face Letty. “Neither of us knows anyone else who has Baletongue for a godmother.”

  “I don’t know anyone else either,” Letty admitted. “I thought it was just me.”

  Lady Ware grinned. “No. There’s now three of us!” She came swiftly back to her chair and sat, graceful despite her rounded belly. “Did she terrify you, Baletongue?”

  Letty shivered in memory. “Yes.” Distantly, she heard a clock toll the quarter hour. She should go upstairs and check that the luggage had been carried down, but she couldn’t make herself move. She gazed at Lady Ware. This woman was family. Real, flesh-and-blood family. “Did she terrify you?”

  “I was in a panic at the time, otherwise I’m sure she would have scared me witless. And as for poor Charlotte, she didn’t know about Baletongue at all. It was a complete surprise to her!”

  Letty heard footsteps in the corridor outside, and the timbre of male voices. The waiter returning with a constable? Sir Barnaby and Cosgrove? “Does Sir Barnaby know?”

  “Yes. And Marcus knows, too. Cosgrove, I mean.”

  Letty nodded. More footsteps strode past. This time she recognized the voices: Reid and Houghton. She glanced at the door. Was Reid looking for her? “I must go. Mr. Reid is leaving in a few minutes.”

  “But we’ve only just met!”

  “I know. But Mr. Reid’s business is critical.” Letty stood. She felt almost agitated.

  “Of course it is!” Lady Ware rose and clasped Letty’s hands. “Else you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

  Letty shook her head. Foolishly, she felt close to tears.

  “When will the business be concluded? When can we meet again? Here, take my card.” La
dy Ware released Letty’s hands and rummaged hastily in her reticule. “You must come and stay just as soon as you can! We can all become acquainted. Charlotte and I live within sight of each other, you know.”

  Letty took the proffered card and clutched it tightly.

  “May I tell Charlotte about you? Please? She won’t breathe a word, I promise! Neither of us will. We know how to keep a secret.”

  Letty hesitated, and then nodded.

  “Oh! To meet you like this, and then have you vanish!” Lady Ware’s posture was eloquent with frustration—her face, her hands. Then she laughed ruefully. “But at least I did meet you. To think, we might never have known about each other!” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Letty’s cheek. “I’m so glad to have found you.”

  Letty’s tears were even closer to the surface. She blinked them back. “And I, you.”

  Lady Ware crossed to the door and opened it. “I hope your business with Mr. Reid is concluded swiftly,” she said, and then her expression became dismayed. “What have I said to make you look like that?”

  Letty tried to find a smile. “It is . . . unhappy business.”

  Lady Ware closed the door again. “Do you need help?”

  The concern on Lady Ware’s face, the seriousness in her voice, brought the tears closer to the surface. Letty gathered her composure. “No, thank you. Mr. Reid’s business is . . . is of a very private nature. It is best kept secret.”

  “Is this Mr. Reid bothering you?” Lady Ware asked bluntly. “Has he forced you to come here?”

  “Oh, no! He would never—! I chose to accompany him!”

  Lady Ware studied her for a moment, and gave a decisive nod. “Very well. But if you do need help, you must promise to ask for it. And if it’s not something I can help with, then Barnaby will. We live half a day’s ride from here.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  “Promise me!”

  Letty gave a shaky laugh. “I promise.”

  Lady Ware opened the door again. “I wish you . . .” She paused, frowning, choosing her words. “I wish you the best possible outcome to your business with Mr. Reid.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I wish to see you again soon.”

  “You will.” Letty hugged Lady Ware. “Thank you.”