To Write a Wrong

by Jen Turano

  Sheldon waited until Daphne took a seat on the stump before he narrowed his eyes on Herman.

  “Care to explain to me why you’ve hired a secretary who looks as if she should be spending her days shopping in Paris? Or better yet, why there seems to be a distinct lack of formality between the two of you?”

  “We, well, ah, decided to abandon formality because you and I, er, embrace an informal attitude.”

  “What could I possibly have to do with how you and your secretary address each other?”

  Herman forced a shrug. “You’re my assistant, which is on the same level as a secretary. I thought it was only fair to adopt an air of informality with Daphne so that she wouldn’t feel slighted. That’s also why I’ve invited her to attend all the festivities planned over the next week, because you’ll be attending those festivities as well.”

  “I’m your cousin. It would be curious if you called me anything other than Sheldon. And I’d definitely feel slighted, as your cousin, if I wasn’t invited to enjoy the festivities at your house party.”

  “Which is why I’d thought you’d understand my reasoning behind including Daphne. Feeling slighted is hardly something anyone enjoys.”

  Cooper took that moment to cough behind his hand before he jerked his head Sheldon’s way. “If you’d excuse us for just a moment, I forgot something of extreme importance I need to tell Mr. Henderson about his . . . horses.”

  Before Sheldon could voice a protest, Cooper took hold of Herman’s arm and hurried him away, not coming to a stop until they were out of Sheldon’s earshot.

  “You’re making a muddle of this” were the first words out of Cooper’s mouth.

  Herman raked a hand through his hair. “Too right I am, but if you’ll recall, I tried to tell Daphne that her explanation regarding why she was mingling with my guests was rather flimsy. She then sprung the whole abandoning of formality business at me as soon as she arrived. I’m afraid I’ve not been exactly eloquent with explaining that business to anyone, my grandmother included.”

  “Perhaps it would have been wiser if Daphne would have assumed the role of a journalist who had come to your estate to write up a piece on you. That would have been far easier to explain.”

  Herman frowned. “Why didn’t you mention that idea earlier? That would have been a brilliant disguise for her.”

  “It just came to me.”

  “Which is too bad because it’s not as if we can change course now and tell everyone she’s a journalist.”

  “Too right we can’t, but you’re going to have to try harder with sounding credible when you answer all these questions about Daphne. Just speak in a forceful tone and then try to change the subject as quickly as possible.”

  “That’s your advice?”

  “It’s the best I’ve got, and since I’m hardly going to benefit the situation by sticking around as your cousin badgers you with more questions, I’m going to take my leave. I won’t be far away, just out of sight behind some trees.” Sending Sheldon an inclination of his head, which Sheldon acknowledged with a frown, Cooper settled the axe he was still carrying over his shoulder and strode away, stopping to whisper something to Daphne before he disappeared into the forest.

  “A new secretary and a new coachman?” was the first question Sheldon asked after Herman rejoined him. “What happened to Jenkins?”

  “He’s taking some time off to visit friends.”

  “Jenkins doesn’t have any friends, a direct result of his surly nature.”

  Herman ran a hand over his face again, feeling quite as if he’d landed smack-dab into one of his more complicated plots, and one he had no idea how to get out of successfully.

  “Why does your coachman carry a pistol?” Sheldon shot at him next.

  “Ah, well . . .” Herman smiled when a perfectly reasonable explanation came to him from out of the blue. “Because I’m often traveling to Five Points on research outings these days, I needed someone qualified to protect the carriage while I’m visiting some of the more unsavory spots on the Lower East Side. Cooper is very proficient with a pistol, as well as with driving carriages.”

  “Why does your secretary carry a pistol?”

  “Ah . . .”

  “I carry a pistol because I’m often a woman alone, and women can’t be too careful these days,” Daphne said, strolling up to join them. She began fiddling with her stylish glove, revealing the face of a delicate watch through a discreet slit that Phillip had included with the design. “I thought I should point out to both of you that the afternoon is quickly getting away from us. That means we need to make haste back to the main house because there are more activities planned, mainly the dinner party Mildred has been looking forward to all day.” She settled a smile on Sheldon, which faded in a trice after her gaze traveled the length of him . . . twice. She turned to Herman. “I thought you said Sheldon’s smaller than you.”

  “He is smaller than me. Half an inch shorter to be exact.”

  Sheldon crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would you and your new secretary be discussing my size?”

  Not a single explanation sprang to mind. He smiled at Daphne. “Why don’t you tell Sheldon the story of how we were discussing the disparities between our sizes.”

  She sent him a wrinkle of a nose, as if she expected better of him, before she turned to Sheldon. “There’s nothing unusual about my discussing your size with Herman. Your cousin made a point of telling me about the state of Mildred’s nerves before he hired me so that I could be mindful of those nerves during the time we’re here on the Hudson. I believe I then asked him how he’s mindful of her nerves, and he went on to explain to me the many measures he puts into place when he’s participating in what his grandmother would see as dangerous activities, such as boxing. When I pointed out that even safety measures enacted while boxing can fail, he told me he always spars with you, which minimizes the danger level, given that you’re smaller than he is.”

  She looked Sheldon up and down again. “Having seen you up close, though, I’m not so certain Herman’s sparring with you can be considered safe. Frankly, I think the two of you are the exact same height, and I believe that you, Sheldon, are broader than Herman.”

  Sheldon took to standing a little straighter and, if Herman wasn’t mistaken, puffed out his rather impressive chest. “I’ve thought for some time now that I’m more muscular than my cousin.”

  “Which makes me wonder why Mildred accepts Herman’s explanation as to why it’s safe to box with you,” Daphne said.

  “That would be on account of the time Herman broke my nose and the damage I didn’t do to him after he did that breaking.” Sheldon shook his head. “I mean, I did punch him back, but unfortunately my aim was off, because I was distracted by all the blood pouring from my nose. I only managed to give his ear what amounted to nothing more than an aggressive tap, something his grandmother took as my inability to land good punches, which then seemingly convinced her once and for all that I’m a safe boxing companion for Herman.”

  Something interesting flashed through Daphne’s eyes. “I imagine it must have annoyed you that you didn’t cause Herman any harm after he broke your nose.”

  “Broken noses happen all the time in boxing. I’m certainly not holding a grudge about it, nor am I holding a grudge that there’s now a bump on it.” Sheldon smiled. “I’ve been told the ladies find it dashing.”

  Daphne leaned closer to Sheldon, her attention on his nose. “There is a bump—one you must notice every time you look in the mirror.”

  Sheldon shot a look to Herman. “Why does it seem as if your secretary is far too interested in the state of my nose?”

  “She’s odd that way?” was all Herman could think to respond.

  “I’m not odd,” Daphne said firmly. “Merely curious about how a gentleman really feels when he gets his nose broken by another gentleman, especially when that gentleman is one’s employer.”

  “Herman’s my cousin first, and cousins do
n’t let something as trifling as a broken nose damage their relationship,” Sheldon said, pulling out a pocket watch and taking note of the time. “But it looks as if the afternoon really is getting away from us, which means we should get back to the house.”

  Daphne nodded. “We should indeed, although I’m afraid I’m not finished speaking with Herman about the, ah, details of my work schedule. You won’t mind if we don’t walk back to the house with you, will you?”

  “What details do you need to work out with him about your schedule?” Sheldon asked.

  “Just the particulars about when you’ll be working with him.” She smiled. “I do my best typing in the afternoon because I’m not much of a morning person. That’s why I’ve suggested to him that you work with him in the mornings.”

  Sheldon’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think it’s rather presumptuous of you to tell me, the man who has been Herman’s assistant for years, what schedule I’m going to adhere to now? Perhaps I prefer working with Herman in the afternoon, which means you’re going to have to adjust your schedule, whether you’re a morning person or not.”

  Daphne considered Sheldon for a long moment before she shook her head. “That’s nonnegotiable. I don’t work in the morning.”

  Sheldon shifted his attention to Herman. “I have no idea why you’d hire a secretary who doesn’t work in the mornings, but I hope you’ll have a chat with her once I take my leave of you, to explain how seniority works. I have seniority; she doesn’t.” He narrowed his eyes on Daphne, considered her for all of a second, then spun around and strode away.

  He made it all of a few feet before he called over his shoulder to Herman. “Would you do me a favor and make certain that Miss Beekman isn’t seated next to me at dinner tonight? I fear I’m not feeling particularly charitable toward her right now. I would hate to have a delicious meal ruined simply because I’m seated next to a woman I’m apparently going to have to work with, even though I wasn’t given the courtesy of my opinion about that before you hired her.”

  “I’m not planning on attending the dinner, so you won’t need to worry about sitting beside me,” Daphne said before Herman could answer.

  “Wonderful,” Sheldon said before he strode into motion again.

  “Why do I get the distinct feeling you were deliberately baiting Sheldon—quite as if you wanted to set him against you?” Herman asked after his cousin disappeared from sight. “That kind of antagonistic attitude is quite out of character for you.”

  “How clever of you to pick up on that,” Daphne began, “and yes, I was trying to set him against me. It seemed to me that he may have a touch of a temper, given how quickly he reacted to the schedule I mentioned. Because of that, I decided to change strategies with him. I was, at first, thinking a collaboration might work well to get information out of him, but he’s far too inquisitive for his own good, which could mean trouble for the investigation. Now, with him at odds with me, he’ll stay out of my way, and if he is responsible for the attacks on you, his animosity may have him escalating whatever plans he has in motion.”

  “I really don’t believe Sheldon is behind the attempts on my life.”

  “And if that’s true, I’ll be sure to beg his pardon for my blatant rudeness once we solve this mystery.”

  “An apology he may very well refuse.” Herman offered Daphne his arm, and after they fetched her bag, they began strolling through the forest in the direction of the house.

  “Why did you tell Sheldon you weren’t attending the dinner tonight?” Herman asked.

  “I thought your grandmother would appreciate a respite from me, which will also allow her to enjoy a dinner party she obviously went to great lengths to plan.”

  “That’s very considerate of you, but how will that help the investigation?”

  The corners of her lips curved. “Ann can be chatty enough for both of us. Besides, I’ll still be moving forward with the investigation. I’ll just need you to show me how to access those secret passageways you mentioned.”

  The mere thought of Daphne traipsing alone through the secret passageways sent apprehension coursing through him. “Perhaps you should wait until we can explore those passageways together. I’d hate for you to become disoriented and get lost in one of them while I’m entertaining my guests and unlikely to find you for hours.”

  “I’m not going to get lost, and no, I’m not waiting. Stealing behind walls will allow me a marvelous way to eavesdrop. But there’s no need for you to worry. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  Even with Daphne having reassured him again, after he’d shown her how to access the secret passageways and given her a brief tour, that there was nothing to worry about, Herman couldn’t seem to help himself.

  Taking a sip of wine, he glanced around the table, nodding to Martha Mulvey, who was sitting beside Sheldon, smiling widely as she sent Herman a nod in return before she replied to whatever it was Sheldon had been saying to her.

  Sheldon was still looking a touch sulky, but there was nothing Herman could do about that, even though he was relatively certain Sheldon wasn’t behind the attempts on his life.

  His grandmother, on the other hand, was in rare form this evening, chatting it up with Mrs. Shoenburger, her eyes sparkling as she kept turning her attention to Finetta, then back to Finetta’s grandmother, leaning her head closer to Mrs. Shoenburger as she whispered furiously behind a fan she’d taken to waving enthusiastically about.

  A quick glance to Finetta showed that young lady doing her best to ignore her grandmother and Mildred, keeping her attention fixed squarely on Andrew. Andrew often sat beside Finetta at events because Mildred didn’t want to make it too obvious about whom she specifically had in mind to become Mrs. Herman Henderson, not wanting to incur the disappointment of other young ladies she had in her sights for Herman.

  “Someone mentioned that we might enjoy a spot of archery tomorrow,” Jay Storrow said, drawing Herman’s attention from across the table.

  Herman smiled. “I thought that might be amusing for many of the guests, although . . .” Whatever else he’d been about to say got stuck on the tip of his tongue when a large painting hanging over one of the buffet tables suddenly swung open.

  A second after that, Daphne plunged through the large opening that was behind the painting and tumbled head over heels through the air, landing right on top of the buffet table, sending china crashing to the floor as she released a less-than-sophisticated shriek.

  CHAPTER

  Eleven

  “I must admit, it took me by complete surprise when Mildred didn’t see you tossed on the first ferry leaving for the city this morning, Daphne. Granted, Herman did come up with a brilliant explanation about why you were skulking about in the secret passageways, but I’m not convinced Mildred actually believed him.”

  Daphne abandoned her typing and settled her attention on Ann, who was sitting underneath a large maple tree where Daphne had set up a makeshift desk. Ann was currently feigning interest in a passage she was intending to share later from her Montague Moreland book, doing so to distract from the fact she was actively engaged in a conversation with a woman who’d caused quite the ruckus the night before.

  “I’m surprised I’m still here, as well, since I completely disrupted Mildred’s dinner party,” Daphne said, releasing a sigh. “I really should have rethought removing my shoes and prowling about in my stockings. I didn’t take into consideration that stockings can turn slippery on wooden floors. If only I hadn’t leaned forward to peer through that peephole, I wouldn’t have slipped, nor would I have caught myself by grabbing hold of what turned out to be the latch that opened the concealed door.”

  “You’re fortunate you didn’t kill yourself by falling from such a height.”

  “I’m fortunate Phillip insisted on dressing me in enormous bustles. I credit the bustle I was wearing yesterday with saving my life because it cushioned my fall. It also saved me from getting cut with
all that china I shattered.” Daphne glanced down at the pages of Herman’s handwritten manuscript that she was currently typing out, tipping her spectacles down as she tried to decipher a word. “I’m fairly certain this is not the word Herman intended to use, if it is, indeed, incapacitated. Doesn’t seem like the right choice because it’s not allowing the sentence to flow. Rendered senseless might work better.”

  “Are secretaries supposed to change the words of their employers?”

  “Doubtful, but I’m not actually a secretary, and Herman will probably appreciate my editing skills, not that he’s aware I have those.”

  “I suspect there are relatively few people who believe you’re a great editor considering your fondness for sharing snippets of your poetry.”

  Daphne typed rendered senseless onto the page. “I do seem to have a knack for composing awful poetry.”

  “On purpose.”

  “I can’t deny that, although I’ve never really had an aptitude for composing credible poetry. But we’re getting distracted. You’ve been so busy of late that we’ve not had much time to exchange notes. I’m dying to hear if you’ve learned anything that will benefit our case.”

  “Being busy is an understatement, and I couldn’t very well have exchanged notes with you last night, not after Mildred asked me to keep her company while she calmed down after you literally crashed her dinner party. By the time she finally went to bed, it was after midnight, and you were already fast asleep when I repaired to our room.”

  “Which speaks to how much excitement I experienced yesterday. I rarely fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.” Daphne typed out another sentence. “Did Mildred have to resort to using her smelling salts after my unexpected fall through the painting?”

  “No, even though her physician kept suggesting she do so to help alleviate the anxiety he was convinced she was experiencing. Frankly, I don’t believe she was anxious in the least—more along the lines of infuriated.”