by Jennifer Joy
“I hope we are not interrupting,” said Mother, looking between Aunt Beatrice and Miss Mauvier.
Richard felt himself being watched. When he finally returned Miss Mauvier’s look, he was surprised to see a flicker of vulnerability in her defensive front— like a chink in her brave armor. She did not have the look of a hardened, ruthless spy. The tension in his face softened at the sight of her.
Mother gave Aunt Beatrice her basket of treats, much to the older woman’s delight.
“As you see, I now have company. You might have heard about what happened at Adélaïde’s shop last night?” asked Aunt Beatrice.
“Yes, we heard that you were robbed. What a dreadful thing to have happen. I am relieved to see you here, Miss Mauvier,” said Mother, her hand covering her heart.
Miss Mauvier smiled. “You are very kind, Lady Hannah. Nobody was harmed, and the only item of value affected was the stained glass my brother had made for the front door. It is odd that nothing else was taken, but it seems that the man— assuming that it was a man— was looking for something specific.”
Richard asked, more in an attempt to confirm his innocence than extract information, “What would he look for? You are not involved in some sort of clandestine operation, are you?”
“As always, Colonel, you think the worst of me. I can assure you that I have no idea what this person could have been searching for. All I know is that the most recent page in my accounts ledger stuck together from a bit of wax that had fallen on it, and a couple of my more delicate fabrics had creases in them.”
Richard breathed out slowly, controlling his face. He thought he had been so careful with the candle. As for the fabric, try as he might to smooth them out, his fingers were simply too rough to allow it.
“I apologize, Miss Mauvier. The comment was made in jest. I have always used humor to diffuse tense situations, and I can appreciate how it may at times be misconstrued. What happened to you and your helpers is no laughing manner.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” replied Miss Mauvier, her eyes narrowing at him.
Her look was disconcerting. Did she suspect him? Remembering the figure standing in the doorway, he asked, “Did anybody see anything? I mean, other than the wax and creased fabric. Your seamstresses sleep downstairs, do they not? Perhaps one of them saw the intruder?” He forced himself to breathe.
“Sadly, no. However, it was not only one man. It was two. One came in the workroom door. It was unlocked. The other destroyed my glass in the front door.”
Relief that he had not been seen, that the figure in the doorway was a figment of his own paranoia, was overshadowed by worry that he had been followed.
“Will you be staying here, Miss Mauvier, until things calm down?” asked Mother.
“I will keep Maman company until my circumstances change. My girls would have it no other way.” She clasped her hands and sighed in resignation.
“A wise decision, indeed. It is for the best.” Richard heard the satisfaction in Mother’s voice. She would not have to insist at all.
“Your girls, as you call them, admire you. I daresay that is not common between a mistress and her seamstresses. It is shockingly uncommon among the ranks,” said Richard, in an attempt to soothe Miss Mauvier.
“They are a good bunch. I could not wish for better.” The tenderness she felt for her odd assortment of ladies softened her voice, and her eyes. The emptiness Richard felt at Anne’s wedding gripped his insides. He longed for a lady to look at him with such tenderness. His mind told him to be patient, that he would have his chance all in good time. His heart rebelled, angry at the thought that his time might already have passed.
Interrupting the war clashing inside him, Aunt Beatrice said, “It is fortuitous that you called today. I had every intention of inviting you for tea very soon. You see,” she said to Richard, “Adélaïde is like a daughter to me. My concern for her safety is great. If I had my way, she would have a muscled footman follow her everywhere.” She paused, looking expectantly at Richard.
“You want me to follow Miss Mauvier?” he asked incredulously.
“Maman! You cannot mean that. It would be highly improper,” protested Miss Mauvier— a little too dramatically, thought Richard.
Aunt Beatrice pursed her lips together. “Let me finish. I was only gathering my thoughts. When you get to be as old as I am, they stray off in any which direction, and it becomes increasingly difficult to keep them in order.”
Richard doubted Aunt Beatrice suffered as much as she would have them believe. Thus far, he had found her as smart as a whip.
She continued, “I only wanted to ask if perhaps, since the distance is not too great and the colonel seems to be on leave, if he might consider walking by the shop every so often. That is all. He does not even need to go inside, unless he is immune to the tongues it would set wagging.” She said it like a challenge.
“You are very clever, Aunt Beatrice. I can see that I will need to be careful whilst in your company.” Her comment was a brilliant maneuver. A request in the form of a challenge would be difficult for any man to refuse. She was well aware of how he would react. She sat, perfectly poised, with one eyebrow arched to accentuate her request.
Miss Mauvier looked displeased, but she kept silent.
“It is not an unreasonable request, and,” he added for Miss Mauvier’s benefit, “I will do my best not to give cause for gossip.” He racked his brain for reasons why a gentleman would frequent a dressmaker’s shop.
Mother said, “I think I can help with that.” She smiled as if she had discovered a secret. Aunt Beatrice acknowledged her look and nodded in return.
Richard did not understand this secret language of women. He preferred plain speech any day of the week. Their gestures and insinuations made him nervous. What were they up to?
The purpose of their call accomplished, they bid farewell, and returned home.
Mother’s big plan was a simple one. She would require more fittings, and she would seek out Miss Mauvier’s help more than she needed for her front parlor. Now that Mother had decided on which colors to decorate with, she had proceeded with confidence. However, she would develop a sudden case of indecision and, therefore, visit the shop more frequently for advice.
When they arrived home, a note on white paper, with a common wax seal, awaited Richard. Knowing who it was from, he tucked it into his pocket, so that he might read it in his room.
“Who is that from?” asked Mother.
“Oh, just a fellow from the barracks. I will read it later, as I doubt it is of import.” To add to his argument, he asked the butler, “The messenger did not wait for a reply?”
“No, sir. He left immediately upon delivery.”
Satisfied, Lady Hannah returned to her upper rooms, leaving Richard free to go to his room. Truth be told, his fingers itched to unfold the note in his pocket, and read it.
Giving Mother a head start, he took the steps two at a time once she reached the top of the landing.
Once he was certain he was alone, he ripped the wax off the enclosure and read in one glance the written line.
September 21st. Stick to her.
Four weeks. In four weeks, the shipment would leave England for the continent. He had four weeks to find out if Miss Mauvier was innocent or guilty.
It was more time than he had expected, but he grew increasing uncomfortable with each passing hour of his investigation. Miss Mauvier’s fate was in his hands. In four weeks, he could free her, or he would be the death of her.
Chapter 16
Over the next two weeks, Adélaïde saw more of Colonel Fitzwilliam than she had previously cared to see. Not only her girls, but the entire household staff, had been won over by his charm, which only made Adélaïde want to dislike him all the more. There was only one sizable problem with that plan. She found herself warming to him despite her best efforts not to. The way he attended to Lady Hannah; the respect he displayed toward her girls in the shop, as well as the servants; the sincere interest
he took in her own welfare, all conspired against her inclination to overlook him as yet another hotheaded, second son of an earl with superior airs. She had to recognize that if she had known him before their carriage trip, she would not have been so easily offended at his comments.
It was at the end of the second week since the colonel and Lady Hannah had called at Maman’s that an invitation came for them to join their family for tea at Matlock House on Brook Street. Maman, contrary to her solitary habits, showed her excitement by wearing her best dress for the occasion. Even Adélaïde had to admit that she was curious to see Matlock House, the place Colonel Fitzwilliam called home. Much could be learned about people by seeing the way they lived and the things they chose to surround themselves with.
The apartment she shared with Luc was filled with paintings, sculptures, and book shelves full of poetry. She liked the space, but it was decidedly Luc’s. Her space was downstairs in the shop where everything had a place, and the riot of colors and textures were kept in order so that it resembled a well-arranged flower garden.
Even Maman’s home gave a peek into her true character. Her sparsely furnished, unused rooms betrayed the antisocial behaviors which fed her loneliness, while her sitting room felt like an inviting spring day in a field of buttercups. The constant baking in her kitchen emitted a warmth and sweetness to the otherwise drab dwelling.
As the carriage pulled up to Matlock House, Adélaïde felt the butterflies flurry in her stomach. She reminded herself that she was the daughter of a French comtesse. She had nothing to be nervous about.
She and Maman were admitted into a lovely entry hall. From the elaborate plaster ceiling, down the paneled walls covered in bold tapestries, to the gray-veined marble floor with red streamers of carpet on either side, the house exhumed masculinity. The grand staircase, with its strip of fire red carpet running up the center, drew her eye with its thick beams of polished wood adding to the solidity of the stairwell. Adélaïde took in all the details she could as the butler led them to the sitting room.
In contrast to the entry hall, the sitting room had more of a feminine touch. An Axminster carpet in a blue the color of a summer sky softened their steps. Accents of rouge created pops of color in the pillows and chairs about the room, and the addition of cream prevented the bright colors from overwhelming the space.
Lady Hannah, dressed in an ivory colored gown with green trim, laid her book aside, and stood to receive them. To Adélaïde’s surprise, Lord Matlock was present as well. His waistcoat matched the green trim on Lady Hannah’s gown.
Adélaïde had not seen him since the wedding and did not know the gentleman very well. His appearance, with his graying, blond sideburns and smile lines on the corners of his eyes, was what Adélaïde imagined Colonel Fitzwilliam would have twenty years hence. Lord Matlock stood beside his wife, so closely that their elbows touched.
The colonel was nowhere in sight.
“Please, have a seat. We are pleased you could join us,” said Lord Matlock, directing them to a circular table in a nook surrounded by windows.
Sunlight bathed the room, casting an angelic glow over Colonel Fitzwilliam as he entered the room, and joined them. Adélaïde had to stifle a laugh. She would never categorize the colonel as an angelic man. A good man, yes. But, certainly not an angel— she would not like him so much if he were.
Lord Matlock said, “Ah, Richard, finally you have returned. Have a seat, son.”
“Pardon me for arriving late,” he bowed, taking his seat between Lady Hannah and Maman. “It seems that you have reserved the best seat for me, and I thank you,” he said with a smile.
Maman chuckled at the compliment. “You do know how to make a lady blush, nephew.”
A roguish smile not fully intended for Maman spread over his face, which now looked at her. “Miss Mauvier, how good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to join us. Miss Mary tells me that you have slept very little of late due to a special project on which she would shed no further light. Is there a reason for her secrecy?” he asked in good humor.
“Mary speaks very freely with you, I see.” It spoke well of the colonel that Mary liked him so much. She was an excellent judge of character. “I have been working on a project particularly special to me— so much so that I even gave it a special allowance and title in my books. It is silly, I know, but the gown will go to a lady who is much admired in Society for her sense of all things fashionable. If it becomes known that she wears a dress of my making, the ones who seek to imitate her will flood to my door.”
“Battles are given names all the time. Why not a gown?” chuckled Richard.
“I wish you success. What a clever idea to foster trade,” said Lord Matlock.
“Just out of curiosity… what did you name the gown?” asked Richard.
“Nothing too clever. Simply, ‘Paris Gown’.”
“Paris?” he pressed.
“Paris will always be where one looks for the best fashion. It seemed fitting at the time.” She shrugged her shoulders, uneasy with how much she had shared of her life. Talking with the colonel and his parents came so naturally, but she became nervous that perhaps, she had shared too much.
The tea poured, and treats served, Adélaïde’s nerves melted away with each bite and sip. The conversation at the table reminded her so much of better times, times that with each passing year grew more difficult to recall.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed happier than normal, smiling often, and filling the table with his merriment.
Lord Matlock reminded her very much of her memory of her own father. He was a large man, with a big voice, and a commanding presence— much like the colonel. However, the tenderness and delicacy he displayed toward his wife softened the unpolished edges of his bold character.
Lady Hannah was a woman confident of her husband’s love. She, too, had a strong personality. Adélaïde had seen her decisiveness in action multiple times as they discussed the decor of the front parlor, as well as the cut of her dress at her fittings— of which she seemed to require an unusually great amount.
“Have you heard from your brother and Anne?” asked Lady Hannah, looking at her.
“I received word when they arrived at Brighton, but I have not heard from them since.” She would have liked more frequent correspondence, but understood that a wedding holiday was not an occasion spent catching up on writing letters.
“I am confident that they are enjoying themselves. Outside of Bath, Anne has not traveled much of England, and even when she could leave Rosings, it was with a trunk full of the awful concoctions my sister insisted she take.” Lord Matlock shook his head grimly at the mention of his sister, Lady Catherine.
Adélaïde tapped Maman’s foot with the toe of her shoe. Lady Catherine was the earl’s sister, and she did not want Maman to say anything offensive against the lady, as she was prone to do.
Colonel Fitzwilliam must have had a similar thought. He, too, looked intently at Maman.
Before Adélaïde could look away, the colonel smiled at her.
“As I have nothing nice to say about your sister, I shall bite my tongue,” said Maman.
Adélaïde smiled back at Colonel Fitzwilliam. If she did not take care, she would break out in laughter. The way his eyes danced in merriment suggested that he was very close to doing the same.
Lord Matlock, unabashed, said, “There are few people acquainted with my sister who would not agree with you.” He paused. Under his breath, he added, “Myself included.”
Maman cackled. “I knew there was something special about your family. I have determined to like you all exceedingly well.”
What a relief it was to have an excuse to laugh. Adélaïde had thought she would burst. She decided not to look at the colonel, lest she be tempted again.
“And we are pleased to call you family. You are a welcome addition, and I am only sorry that we have lost so many years.” He looked between Maman and herself.
Surely, he did not mean to i
nclude her in the welcome to the family. She was, after all, only the sister of the man his niece had married. Yet, he had looked at her as he spoke.
Warmth spread over her body— the kind of warmth one feels on a cold day, snuggled in a soft blanket, reading a deliciously romantic novel, and sipping a chocolate. She felt like she was home. Knowing the rarity of such sentiments, she cherished the feeling, striving to remember the details that had caused it. She could not remember the last time she had felt so… content— so like she belonged.
From across the table, Lady Hannah said, “Miss Mauvier, I am almost finished with my parlor. Would you like to see it?”
Adélaïde excused herself from the table to follow Lady Hannah into the first room one saw on entering the front door. She had expected Maman to join them, but she had stayed behind to converse with the gentlemen.
The door opened into the most elegant room Adélaïde could recall seeing. The upholstery matched the shimmery wallpaper the color of a robin’s egg. The combination of pale blue, with the velvet cerulean curtains and cushions, bright red roses in vases about the room, and ivory wool rugs with the bold blue and red woven in, was the perfect mix of sophistication and luxury. It was a room a lady could feel comfortable in as easily as a gentleman.
“You have captured your essence in this room, my lady. It is both soft and bold, refined and daring,” she said through her breath.
Lady Hannah smiled. “Those are the same words I would use to describe you. Thank you for your assistance. I am pleased with this room, and now wish to spend much more time in here.”
“As would I, but please do not give me too much of the credit. I only asked how you wanted the room to feel.”
“And that was something I had never considered before you asked. I feel as if I have a secret weapon which I intend to use in future renovations. Is that how you fashion dresses to suit your ladies so well?”
“Pray do not tell my competition, but, yes, that is what I do. From looking at a woman, her skin, the color of her eyes and hair, I know which colors compliment her the best. From our conversation and a few strategic questions, I ascertain what qualities she wants to emit, and that helps me with the intensity of the color and cut of the gown.” Adélaïde stopped herself before she could bore Lady Hannah with all the details.