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

by Blythe Baker

  Crimson began to pool beneath her and she would not move again.

  I took another step backward and my foot fell into the void.

  I tumbled into the blackness, the light of the small room shrinking above me as the sounds of my own screams filled my ears.

  I sat straight up, gasping for breath.

  I grabbed at my chest, fearing my heart would beat straight out of it. A moment later, I swiped my hands over my mattress, my quilt, my pillows.

  I let out a shaking breath.

  I was in my own bed. I had not left my room.

  It was a dream. Nothing but a dream.

  A terrible dream…but nothing more.

  7

  “Are you certain that you are all right? You have been almost entirely silent all morning.”

  I looked up from the intricate stitching I had been hard at work on since the shop had opened that morning. I huffed, arching a brow at my sister. “Yes, I am fine,” I said. “As I said, I would very much like to complete this order for Mrs. Minford before she comes in here and starts to snoop around, wondering what I have been doing for the last two weeks.”

  A shadow appeared over my shoulder and I looked over to see Lily peering down at the kerchief in my hand. “Yes, well, she is certain to be pleased with your work, Iris. Those roses are beautiful. Look at the way you used the different shades of red to create a sense of depth. Lovely, as always.”

  I sighed, setting the kerchief down and turning to her. “Lily, I have already told you. I am fine. It was only a dream.”

  “A dream that you have had every night for the past week,” Lily said, stomping away from me, her hands on her hips. “A dream that I only found out about because I happened to be up for a drink of water.”

  I pursed my lips, turning away. She was right, of course. The same dream of our mother, falling dead at my feet, had haunted my dreams for six nights now. I was quite afraid of my chances for a seventh night.

  “I still think you should see Doctor Webb,” Lily said, walking over to our book of orders, flipping it open. “Perhaps he has something he could give you that would help you to sleep more soundly.”

  “Perhaps he does,” I said. “But I do not wish to explain the reason for wanting to sleep better.”

  “Sleep better? How about sleep at all?” Lily asked. She stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. “I am sorry, my dear, but I am asking selfishly for myself, as well. If you aren’t sleeping, then it makes it difficult for me to sleep.”

  I sighed, picking up the stitching once more. “Yes…I suppose you are right. I shall go see the doctor this afternoon.”

  “Very good,” Lily said.

  I heard the pages turning in the order book behind me.

  “Oh, that is today, is it?” Lily asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Lady Wilson,” Lily said. “Today is her final fitting. I thought she had one more?”

  “No,” I said. “When she came in on Wednesday, the dress was nearly finished. I just needed to check the length of the sleeves after I added the filigree detail she wanted on the cuffs.”

  “I see,” Lily said. “Well, she should be here…Hmm. That is strange.”

  I looked up from my work once more. “What is strange?” I asked, a small chill passing over me.

  “Her appointment is written down here in the book for half past ten,” Lily said. “But it is very nearly noon, now.”

  I turned to look at the clock nearby, as if she might have been mistaken. “That is strange…isn’t it?”

  “I’m sure everything is perfectly all right,” Lily said, though the hitch in her words told me she was not certain of what she said. At least not entirely.

  I did my best to ignore the clock for the next two hours, trying not to allow my eyes to wander to the front door of the shop like they so desperately continued to try and do. Customers came in and Lily and I saw to them. But I could not shake the thought of Lady Wilson…and the chance that something terrible had happened to her.

  It was nearing three in the afternoon when I thought I could not take it anymore. “Lily, what would you think of me taking Lady Wilson’s dress to her at the estate?”

  Lily, who stood beside a mannequin with a pair of pins between her teeth, a length of blue velvet draped over the frame, looked across the room at me through eyes that were like narrow slits. “You wish to take the dress to her?” she asked, her lips pressed tightly together. She pulled and tucked the velvet into place. She stuck the mannequin with one of the pins, tilted her head, and then plunged the other pin into the fabric. She then turned to me, planting her hands on her hips. “Well, I suppose it is not a terrible idea. Though I know the reason why you are mentioning such a thing in the first place.”

  My face turned pink. “Why do you say that?”

  “You are worried about her, as you said you would be,” Lily said. “You are afraid that something has happened to her like what occurred during her first visit here. Or worse. Am I correct?”

  The pink in my face deepened. “Well…yes,” I said. “It will allow me to ease my worries if I can see that she is all right and perhaps simply forgot her appointment.”

  Lily nodded. “She does not strike me as the sort of woman to forget an obligation but it does seem more likely than anything else. Very well, I shall help you package up the dress. This will certainly make a good impression on her. And, if you are quite fortunate, then you might even find her entertaining friends, who will be very impressed at the service from such a humble shop as ours.” She gave me a broad smile and nodded enthusiastically.

  I sighed but I laughed, too. “Yes, sister. I shall do my best to make all of Lady Wilson’s friends, if present, desire to shop at no other establishment apart from ours.”

  We boxed up Lady Wilson’s dress as immaculately as we could. We tucked it inside a perfectly sized box for it and tied it in a thick, red ribbon that matched the color of her dress. Pleased with our work, I lifted it to see if I would be able to carry it all the way to the estate.

  “It will be no trouble,” I said, glancing up at the clock. It was half past four. “Though I should go, if I am to make it in good time. I do not imagine that she will be too pleased if I arrive very late.”

  “Quite,” Lily said. “Then off you go. I shall make sure to leave enough dinner for you, if you are held up.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Lily fetched my coat for me, my gloves, and my boots. After bundling up enough to ward off some of the late autumn air, I started toward the door.

  “My only advice, dear sister, is that you be discreet,” Lily said, folding her hands delicately in front of herself.

  “Discreet?” I asked.

  She arched a brow. “I know you well enough to know that you go not only to check on Lady Wilson but to see what strange things have been occurring there that have the poor woman frightened.”

  My face flooded with color and I looked away.

  “I thought so,” Lily said. “As I said, remain discreet, lest Lady Wilson become angry or think that you and I are ‘putting our noses where they do not belong.’”

  I nodded. “Yes, Lily, I will. I promise. And I will not dawdle. I shall come straight home.”

  Lily nodded but I could see the slight disbelief behind her eyes as she waved goodbye to me.

  I set out down the street toward the old Grangehurst estate, now called Billborough Hall.

  She does know me well, doesn’t she? Saw straight through my ruse.

  I supposed it was not that much of a surprise. She had known how much Lady Wilson’s bout of illness had troubled me when she had visited us. I had thought of it a great deal over the past six or seven days. I began to feel as the Lady did, as my own dreams had become so troubled. The less sleep I managed to get, the more frightened I found myself becoming. It became all too easy to believe that she was in great danger…especially when the darkness of night fell.

  The clouds overh
ead grew darker and so I picked up my pace.

  The box, quite sizable, did not trouble me at first. The further I walked, however, the heavier it seemed to become. I shifted it back and forth in my grasp but became utterly relieved when the stone wall surrounding the estate came into view along the road ahead.

  I passed by a few carriages as I walked. Each made me wonder if they contained Lady Wilson on her way to the shop with an apology, ready to tell us that she had simply forgotten or been caught up in some ordinary matters at the estate. There would be no way for me to know, however, until I reached her home.

  I stared up at the sky over my head, the clouds pressing against the earth like a thick, grey blanket.

  Those clouds mean snow…

  It certainly would not be too terribly strange, given the fact that the first of December was mere days away.

  I did my best to hurry even faster, not wanting to take my time so as not to be traveling back to town in a storm. If I did that, then I was sure to catch cold. I would never hear the end of it from Lily.

  The bright lights glowing from the windows of the estate filled me with great joy as I approached, following the winding drive all the way toward the front of the manor house. It was a magnificent sight, as always.

  I knocked on the large front doors, standing back a moment later. I looked about as a gust of wind slammed against me.

  I clutched the dress box, careful not to drop it onto the ground, despite the strength of the wind.

  The door opened and Hornsby stuck his head outside. “Oh, Miss Dickinson, yes?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  I held out the box. “I have come to give Lady Wilson her last dress fitting,” I said. “I thought, as she was feeling under the weather earlier this week, that she might appreciate not having to travel all the way into town for her appointment.”

  Hornsby eyed the box momentarily but stepped aside. “Come inside, Miss Dickinson. I am certain she will be pleasantly surprised to see you.”

  I stepped in through the doors, the warmth of the indoors washing over me. I let out a sigh, basking in it. “Good heavens, I had not realized how cold it has become,” I said. “It is a wonder I did not freeze on my way here.”

  “Indeed,” Hornsby said with great indifference, closing the door behind me.

  “Mr. Hornsby, who has come to call? My Lady would like to know.”

  The voice of a woman carried down the stairs. Soon after, she appeared herself, a tall, slender woman with prominent front teeth, large brown eyes, and auburn hair tied in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. She wore an apron of deep blue over her taupe dress and reminded me a great deal of a frightened mouse the way that she came down the stairs, her gaze darting back and forth between Hornsby and I.

  “Miss Dickinson,” Hornsby said with a gesture toward me. He started down the hall, clasping his hands behind his back. “I shall leave you to tend to her, Mrs. Adams.”

  Mrs. Adams?

  She looked at me as he walked away, taking a deep breath, her chest puffing out. “Miss Dickinson, eh? And why have you come to see my Lady?”

  “I have brought her the dress she ordered from my sister and me,” I said, nodding down toward the large, awkward package in my arms. “We are the owners of the Golden Spool.”

  Mrs. Adams squinted, her brow wrinkling. “Oh, the seamstresses. Of course.” She smiled slightly, rocking back and forth on her feet like an anxious bird, about ready to take flight. “My apologies, Miss. I am new here, you see. There is still a great deal about this place that I do not know.”

  Understanding lit up my face. “You must be the new housekeeper.”

  Mrs. Adams beamed. “Yes, that I am,” she said. “I take it you must be a frequent guest of my Lady if you recognize such a change in her staff.”

  The color returned to my cheeks. “I…am acquainted with Lady Wilson but only very slightly.”

  Mrs. Adams eyed the box. “You say you have brought a dress for her?”

  I nodded. “She did not arrive for her final fitting earlier today, so I thought it might be better for her to try the dress on within the comforts of her own home.”

  A look of concern passed over Mrs. Adams’ face. “I am terribly sorry. I suppose I should have mentioned this sooner…”

  My heart sank at the look on her face. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, well…” Mrs. Adams said, her smile fading. “Lady Wilson…she – ”

  She knit her hands in her apron, her boney fingers turning white. Looking up the stairs behind her, she paused for a moment and then turned back to me.

  “Allow me to go and speak with her maid,” Mrs. Adams said. “Perhaps the Lady had a chance to lie down and is feeling better.”

  She scurried up the stairs, my heart falling with each frantic step she took.

  Not feeling well? Again?

  My fears had been reality, it seemed.

  It was not more than a minute or two before Mrs. Adams reappeared at the top of the stairs.

  The worry in her expression had not changed. In fact…it appeared worse.

  “Miss?” she said, peering over the banister. “I am sorry but her maid says…my Lady is – she is – ”

  It was as if I had swallowed a stone. Out with it, woman!

  “She is…gone.”

  8

  “She…she’s gone?” I repeated. “As in she – ”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Adams said solemnly, walking down the stairs, nodding her head. “Yes, indeed. She has left the land of the waking and has, Lord bless her, finally entered the world of dreams.”

  She came to a stop on the bottom step and sighed with great relief.

  I stared at her, my mind racing to catch up with what I had just heard.

  “She…she isn’t…?”

  Mrs. Adams gave me a rather formidable look. “What did you think I was going to say, dear?” she asked, hiking up her hem and making her way across the foyer. “That my Lady had somehow perished? Heavens, no. She has fallen asleep, I am told. And it is fine news that she has, for she has not slept in nary a week now. Well, perhaps not a week. Three days, I believe. Nevertheless, she needed her rest. My Lady thanks you, or at least, I am certain would thank you if she knew you had arrived.” Mrs. Adams walked over to me, shuffling me back toward the door. “But she dearly needs her rest, as she has been feeling unwell as of late – ”

  “Has she been feeling faint?” I asked. “Or nauseous?”

  Mrs. Adams stopped her ushering and regarded me like a raven, her gaze suddenly sharp and focused. “Why, yes…” she said, some of her enthusiasm diminishing. “How did you know?”

  I pursed my lips. “She came into our shop almost a week ago. She wanted us to make this dress for her, you see. I have done nothing else since she placed her order. When she was being measured, she…well, she became quite faint. She needed a rest, to sit. My sister brought her something to drink but she told me how – ” I hesitated. How much has she told others? Especially her staff? “She told me how she had been feeling. She seemed worried.”

  “Worried, indeed,” Mrs. Adams said. “Though my Lady’s worries are simple to diagnose. She must rest, of course, any chance she gets. She hardly sleeps through the night any longer. From what I am told, this all started just before I arrived here.”

  Does she know what happened with Mr. Shaw? Or who she has replaced?

  Mrs. Adams folded her hands politely in front of herself. “Truth be told, I have taken it upon myself to encourage my Lady in her health. Long walks through the gardens at half past ten, followed soon after by tea beside the pond…with her favorite book, of course. I do it all with the hopes that, by the time she lays her head down at night, her body will be so tired, her mind filled with such pleasant thoughts that she will be unable to think of anything else.”

  Some of the delight faded from her eyes. It struck me that this new housekeeper was a woman whose moods changed often.

  She continued. “It has yet
to work, as my Lady is still struggling to sleep well…but I am determined that if she is to feel better and if these fainting spells are to pass, then she needs to sleep.”

  “I see,” I said.

  It troubled me that Lady Wilson had yet to grow any better. If anything, it sounded as if she might have been growing worse.

  “Has Doctor Webb come to see her within the past few days?” I asked.

  “Oh, heavens, no,” Mrs. Adams said. “My Lady has been quite insistent that she is all right. I am inclined to believe her, of course. She just needs to find some rest.”

  “Yes, well…I am certain that she will feel better soon,” I said. “She made a very rapid recovery when she came to visit our shop. Rapid, indeed. By the time she left, she was right as rain.”

  Mrs. Adams’s already large eyes grew even wider. “Yes…” she said, eyes frantically searching around. “Yes, that must be it. Perhaps I am putting too much pressure on my Lady. Perhaps all she needs is patience. I am sure that is it. We must be patient with her, and if she is patient with herself, this shall pass, just as it did in your shop. Don’t you agree?”

  I nodded.

  “Very good,” Mrs. Adams said. “Well, thank you very much for your kindness, Miss Dickinson, was it?”

  “Yes,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder at the door. “Well…if you say that Lady Wilson is too unwell to see me, then I suppose I should take her dress back to my shop. Please tell her to send us a message when she is feeling well, so that we may reschedule her final fitting – ”

  “Just one moment,” Mrs. Adams said, holding a hand aloft.

  After a hesitant glance up the stairs, she seemed to make her mind up about something.

  “If you wait a moment, perhaps I might go and see for myself whether Lady Wilson is able to see you,” she said. “It is possible that her maid was mistaken about her being asleep. You traveled all this way with the dress and I would feel simply terrible to turn you away now, before she even has the chance to see it. Perhaps she would like that and then we could schedule her final fitting for…next week?”