Emily narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by action?”
Shrugging, Hope replied, “I am not sure, but there must be some way to identify your writer friend in a more substantial way.”
“Hmm, now that’s an interesting idea,” Rose mused aloud.
“Uh oh,” Sarah said. “It appears Rose may be having another stroke of brilliance.”
Rose laughed. “I don’t know how brilliant it is, but I recently read a book about handwriting analysis. Did you know that everyone’s handwriting is unique and can be used as a way to identify themselves?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Hannah said. “I can certainly identify notes written for me by my mother and those written to me by William or David whether they sign the note or not.”
“Exactly,” Rose said. “Beyond that, however, some scientists believe certain shapes and patterns in a person’s handwriting can also be used to determine the personality and behavior of the writer.”
“Really?” Sarah asked. “That’s remarkable. I wonder what my penmanship says about me?”
“If I recall correctly,” Rose replied thoughtfully, “it would say you are intelligent and happy, but prone to loss of control both physically and in your thoughts.”
“Well, I would be hard-pressed to argue with that,” Sarah acknowledged.
“This is all very fascinating, Rose,” Emily sighed, “but I am not sure how this helps us. If we don’t know who he is, how are we supposed to get a sample of his writing?”
“We already have a sample of his writing. What we need is a collection of all the men’s handwriting here to which we can compare that sample.”
“How do you have a sample of his handwriting?” Emily asked.
Rose looked at Emily knowingly. “I am willing to bet you have one or more of his letters in your bag right now.”
Emily felt herself flush. “How did you know that?”
“Because you didn’t want to come tonight. And if I had not wanted to be here, I would have brought a book and found a nook to hide in and read. Hannah would likely do the same. Hope would have brought the paper. And you…well, this is new territory for you, but I think you would bring those letters.”
“Wait,” Sarah said, “what about me?”
“That’s easy,” Hope answered, “if you did not want to be here, Sarah, you simply would not have come.”
Sarah grinned. “I would be hard-pressed to argue with that, too.”
“Maybe now return to the matter at hand?” Rose asked with a raised eyebrow.
“By all means,” Sarah replied grandly.
“Thank you. Now then…how can we get samples of the men’s handwriting to compare to the letters?”
“I suppose we could go around and ask for them to sign something,” Hannah offered.
“For what purpose?” Hope asked. “We would have to have a reason for asking.”
“I have no idea. It was just a thought.”
“What about Emily’s dance card?” Sarah wondered, pointing at the paper dangling from her friend’s wrist. “She could ask them to sign up for a dance.”
Emily looked at Sarah aghast. “That is beyond improper, Sarah!”
Sarah shrugged. “It would work, however.”
“Actually, she’s right,” Rose said thoughtfully.
“What?” Emily gasped. “You want me to approach all these gentlemen and ask them to dance?”
Her friends had all lost their minds. Asking a gentleman to dance was the height of impropriety. What would they—no, the entire ton—think of such a brazen act? She would likely be deemed unmarriageable.
No, she would not do it.
“Of course not,” Rose assured her quickly, “but using the dance card is still a very good idea.”
Emily was both relieved and confused.
“If you don’t think I should ask for dances, then how else can we use the cards?”
“Well, it seems to me, most of the likely suspects would have signed someone’s dance card. All we need to do is get a good look at all of the cards.”
“All we have to do…” Emily repeated. “And how do you expect us to do that? Ask every girl here to see their card? Those of our acquaintance may show us, but they also will want to know why. And we have no recourse with those ladies we don’t even know.”
“Emily is right,” Hannah said. “If we are going to do this, we are going to have to be very stealthy.”
“How many letters did you bring?” Rose asked Emily.
Blushing, she replied, “All of them.”
“Good, give one to me and also one to Hannah. It will be more efficient to break up into pairs. One of us can distract the girl in question, while the other one looks at the card.”
“But there are five of us,” Hope pointed out.
“I think Emily should make herself available to receive dance requests. She can check the handwriting on her own card while we try to look at everyone else’s.”
Even Emily could admit it was a good idea for her to be on her own. Many of the men had already requested a dance, but she had turned them down, feigning a headache. If she were to position herself into one of acceptance, near the dancing area or with other ladies waiting for the next dance, she would garner interest once again.
“I’m willing to try it, if everyone else is amenable,” she said, pulling two notes from her reticule and handing one each to Rose and Hannah, “but please try not to cause a scene. I would be mortified if this were to come out.”
“Fair enough,” Rose replied. “Sarah, you and I will handle the south side of the room; Hannah and Hope, will you two take the north?”
“Yes,” Hannah agreed for herself and Hope. “Shall we take a minute to look at the handwriting in question?”
“Good idea.”
Hannah and Rose opened the notes and looked at the letters.
“Hmm, a few of these letters are very distinctive,” Rose said, “that should make our task a little easier.”
Emily thought Rose was quite correct. Her mystery writer did have a rather unique style of penmanship. She was about to point out one letter in particular when she looked over at Hannah and saw her frowning at her page.
“Hannah,” Emily asked, “is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Hannah repeated slowly. “No, not wrong precisely. I just feel like I have seen this writing before.”
“You have?” Emily said excitedly. Was she about to find out the identity of her anonymous friend?
“Yes, but I cannot place it,” Hannah replied, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “No, I just can’t remember. Perhaps it will come to me, though.”
“Could it be the writing of a previous suitor?” Rose suggested. “You had a number to choose from at one point.”
“It’s possible, but now is not the time to try to figure it out. Let’s get on with our search, and if I suddenly recall, you all will be the first to know.”
“Very well then,” Rose said, “let’s begin.”
Emily watched as her friends left her to go to their respective sides of the grand ballroom to begin their search. She hoped it wouldn’t be a fruitless effort, but at least she was no longer dreading being at the party. Having a task to do made all the difference.
Moving to a more prominent place in the room, Emily plastered on the most welcoming smile she could and then just waited. Within moments, she had a half dozen dance requests and more looked to be on the way. None of the signatures matched those of the letters, but she still held out hope. As she fulfilled the obligations of dancing, she could see her friends making their way around the perimeter of the dance area.
With Rose’s near perfect memory, she and Sarah were making fairly quick work of their half of the ladies. If there was one thing for which Sarah could be counted on, it would be to be a perfect distraction. Using her clumsiness to her advantage, Sarah had seemed to perfect knocking the cards off the owners’ wrists, thereby allowing Rose to pick them up and offering to re
attach them. Emily was sure that the tall gangly girl was not making any friends with her technique, but she was giving Rose plenty of time to get a peek at the targets’ dance cards.
Hope and Hannah appeared to be taking a more diplomatic approach. They were striking up a chatty conversation that would result in one or both of them finding a way to hold their victims’ hands. Emily wasn’t exactly sure what was being said, but she suspected her friends were complimenting the ladies’ gloves, bracelet, or what have you. Whatever they were saying, it gave them the opportunity to check the dance card as they were pretending to move it out of the way.
Both approaches were very clever, and Emily felt something akin to pride as she watched the Society in action.
After what felt like a hundred dances, Emily excused herself from the latest of her admirers. She needed something to drink almost as much as she wanted to find out what her friends had learned.
After garnering herself a much-needed glass of lemonade, she sank gratefully into a nearby chair. She was exhausted, and her feet were paining her greatly. Luckily, her four friends were coming to her.
“You are looking rather peaked, Emily.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Emily said wearily.
Sarah had the grace to redden slightly. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I am just wondering if you are overdoing it, considering your recent illness.”
Emily sighed. “I’m sorry. I knew what you meant. And you are probably correct. I am feeling a bit wretched after all the activity. Did we at least learn anything useful?”
“All I learned is that men, in general, have abominable penmanship,” Hannah declared, “but I didn’t see anything close to what is in the letters.”
“In general, I would have to agree with you,” Rose seconded, “and I also did not find a matching example.”
“Neither did I,” Emily said, running her hands over her face. “I guess that was a waste of time.”
“Not necessarily,” Sarah replied. “We now know that he is probably not one of the men here.”
Perking up, Emily looked at Sarah gratefully. “That’s true, isn’t it? We have narrowed it down a bit, haven’t we?”
Sarah smiled. “Absolutely.”
“Does that mean I can go home now?”
Rose laughed. “I think you have done more than enough, Emily. You go and get some rest.”
Emily stood up and hugged her friends. “I will see you all soon. Thanks for, well, everything.”
Once the farewells had been exchanged, Emily went in search of her maid. As much as she wanted to leave immediately, she couldn’t do so without her chaperone.
She had just caught sight of Harriet when she felt a hand on her arm. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Alexander.
“Good evening,” she said, trying to ignore the riot of fluttering in her belly.
“And to you,” Alex replied with a slight bow. “You look as if you are feeling better. I hope that is the case.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Thank you.”
“Excellent. Then would you do me the honor of a dance?”
“Oh, Alex, I would love to,” Emily replied, and to her surprise she was fairly sure she meant it, “but I am rather worn out. I was just leaving, actually. Why didn’t you ask me earlier?”
“I just got here,” Alexander said, looking sincerely disappointed. “I decided only at the last minute to attend.”
Emily was almost tempted to stay for just one more dance, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, and she had to cling to Alexander’s arm to retain her balance.
“Emily, are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I am fine. Just tired, I think.”
The concern on Alexander’s face was nearly her undoing. Why should it matter so much that he care for her? It had never mattered before, but now Emily’s heart nearly swelled from the knowledge. She must be more tired than she thought.
“I think you may have done too much, too soon, my dear,” Alex said, leading Emily to a nearby chair. “Allow me to fetch your maid. I think you should rest a moment.”
Emily nodded weakly. Truer words had never been uttered. She had nearly fainted when he had called her his “dear.” What was happening to her? Feeling his arms around her made her feel loved, for goodness sake. Loved, by Alexander Bredon.
Yes, she needed to leave immediately. She would go straight to bed. This cold was affecting her in very strange ways, and she did not like it.
She did not like it one bit.
When Alex returned with Harriet, Emily very gratefully allowed herself to be led to her carriage. She made sure to cling to Harriet and not Alexander, although it took considerable effort to make herself do so.
By the time she was settled in the vehicle and on her way home, all she could think about was how much she wished Alexander had been at the ball sooner. Dancing with him aside, if he had been there from the beginning, then his handwriting would have been one of those checked against the letters. And she was suddenly very curious to know about his penmanship.
What was most disturbing, however, was why she half hoped his writing would have been that of her mystery friend. Most disturbing indeed.
Chapter Fifteen
Nothing is scarier than the death of the illusion of safety.
~The Duke of Lancaster
“I thought you would like to know that the Youngs have safely relocated to another building closer to the parish. I have been checking in on her daily. You should see how much happier she is.”
“Oh, Eleanor,” Emily said with a smile. “That is great news. I do love it when everything works out the way it should.”
She and Eleanor were in a small, dank room located in the back of the Tavistock Arms Pub. They did not usually meet at the public house, where the young girl worked as a scullery maid, but Emily was showing her the correct way to lay a table, and the bar’s kitchen had all the tools she needed to do so. She was also wondering if her friend had seen the mysterious man who had met with Mr. Young. Since the break-in at her house, nobody had seen hide nor hair of him.
She was putting all the different utensils around a plate in as close a representation of fine china as possible so that she could teach Eleanor the appropriate information. Then next they were going to write up a simulated menu and shopping list, complete with expected costs and time constraints.
Keeping the household accounts often fell into the purview of a head housekeeper. They also carried the responsibility of the house linen—both repairing it and replacing it as necessary—as well as control of the china closet and the arrangement of bedrooms for visitors and their servants. The housekeeper’s daily routine usually included—but wasn’t limited to—overseeing the stillroom or pantry, determining what china and linen would be given out for meals, assisting in the washing of the china, and checking all the bedrooms and replacing supplies such as candles, writing paper, and soap while making sure the rooms were clean and in order. They were also solely in charge of all the other female servants and the household keys.
There was a lot for Eleanor to learn, but every day she spent with the girl convinced Emily she could do the job. She just needed the right teacher. Emily hoped and prayed she could do right by her new friend.
“It’s all thanks to you, my lady,” Eleanor said.
“Eleanor,” Emily shushed, as she looked around furtively. “Mind your tongue. It would not do for someone to find out who I really am.”
Blushing, Eleanor said, “Sorry. It is hard not to treat you with the respect you deserve.”
“My dear, you do not work for me. We are friends, and all my friends call me Emily.”
The smile she received was the best reward Emily could have received.
“Now then, friend, which spoon would you use for soup?”
Eleanor looked at the place setting. She pointed to the spoon on the farthest right.
“That one?”
“Very good,” Emily congratulated. “
Follow up question…what would it mean if there had been only one spoon to the right of the plate?”
Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I suppose it would mean soup was not being served?”
“Exactly! If there is not a soup course, one wouldn’t put a soup spoon in the setup.”
“I think I am starting to understand, but I still don’t know why you can’t just use the same fork and spoon for everything.”
Emily laughed. “To be honest, I never understood it, either. It seems an awfully complicated concept just for eating.”
“I am so glad you said that.” Eleanor sat on a nearby stool. “It’s nice to know I am not the only one who feels it is a silly custom.”
“Silly it may be, but when you see a table in all its ridiculous glory, it will take your breath away. Trust me.”
“Oh, I do, my lady—ah, Emily—really, I do. Frankly, I cannot thank you enough for everything you are doing for me.”
“It is I who should thank you,” Emily replied warmly. “Your help has proven invaluable, not only in my charitable endeavors but also in other ways.”
Eleanor looked at Emily curiously. “It’s these ‘other ways’ that I want to know more about. What do you do with all those things I tell you?”
Grinning, Emily wagged her finger playfully. “Ah, ah ah…you know I can’t tell you that.”
“Well, whatever you are doing, I am sure it is for the greater good.”
Touched, Emily said, “I appreciate your faith in me.”
“It has been earned,” Eleanor replied with such sincerity that Emily felt her eyes well up.
“Now, now,” she replied quickly, “enough of that. Come over here and tell me which fork is the dessert fork.”
Instead Eleanor stood and gave Emily a big hug. “Some day you are going to be the best mother, my lady.”
Emily couldn’t even bring herself to correct Eleanor’s form of address, she was so moved by the statement. The rest of the day with her friend went by quickly and successfully, and nothing seemed to be able to remove the smile from Emily’s face. Not even the knowledge that Eleanor had not seen the man in black since that one meeting so long ago.
A Rogue for Emily (Lady Lancaster Garden Society) Page 14