“Yes,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “I thought I noticed something different about you. Your smiles are back.”
“Sir Phillip makes you happy,” Miss Wood said. “That speaks mightily in his favor.”
“Phillip may not be so happy with our arrangement for a long engagement,” Rose said. Neither was she too thrilled at having to forgo his kisses.
“Then that is the best part, far as I am concerned,” Daniel said. “Teach him not to take advantage of you.”
“He did no such thing.”
“You, my lady, are a bad liar,” he said.
Rose ignored Daniel’s comment. “There is a way to circumvent Phillip’s objections. I wish to tell him about the Rue Alliance. About our ability to shift.”
“No!” Daniel’s answer resounded in the room as both Miss Wood and Mrs. Weatheringham echoed it.
“I do not wish to betray any confidence,” Rose said, “but he is investigating a crime, and solving it will require uncovering that the killer can shift her features. And already he has begun to suspect this might be possible, for he heard talk from a sailor who said he saw a man change his appearance.”
“That is unfortunate,” Mrs. Weatheringham said in concern. “Miss Wood, we must spread the word among the alliance members to be extra careful of where each one shifts. There can be no witnesses.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will pass the caution around after this meeting.”
“Sir Phillip can suspect all he wants,” Daniel said, “but he has no proof. Nor will he have any, if we find this shifter first.”
“Then what will you do with the killer?” Rose asked. “How are we to ensure that justice is served? To involve the law, we need Phillip’s assistance.”
“There are ways of dealing with such people,” he replied in an ominous tone.
“And those are methods we will not be using,” Mrs. Weatheringham said in a firm tone and a strict gaze aimed at Daniel. “Lady Roselyn is correct. Sooner or later, we must confide in Sir Phillip. However, that time is not now.”
“I cannot lie to him any longer.”
“And you need not,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “Merely withhold the truth.”
“I have to at least disclose to him that I am Ben. Fooling him into thinking I am his friend is not merely withholding information, it is deception plain and simple.”
“Then stop meeting him as Ben,” Daniel added.
Rose gave him a cross look. “How else can I assist him with this investigation?”
“That was a daft idea to begin with.” He sat back, arms folded. “Whether you wear men’s clothing or not, he must be blind not to see you are a woman.”
“Well he has not. And he has grown to care a great deal about that lad.” About me!
“I suppose now that the alliance is officially on the case,” Daniel said in a thoughtful tone, “he could liaise with me instead of Ben.”
Rose had to admit the idea had merit. It would dispel any reason for her to lie to Phillip anymore and allow the alliance to work with him to solve Helen’s murder. A part of her, Ben perhaps, cried out at having to end the charade.
“Good,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “But before we go that course, I have a worry I must bring up. I know this will be difficult for you to accept, Lady Roselyn, but is there any possibility that Sir Phillip Jones could be the killer?”
“What?” Rose said, stunned anyone would even pose such a question.
“By his own admission, he was there the night Helen died. You were not. What if he is lying to implicate you? He could have planted those letters in Helen’s rooms.”
“He was not with you when you were attacked tonight, was he?” Miss Wood asked with a concerned look. “You said he had gone outside to search for Ben. Could he have slipped back inside through a window?”
“Phillip would never harm me!”
“I do not know where he was the night Helen died,” Daniel said, “but I can confirm Sir Phillip did not steal back inside the Lockharts’ house tonight. I watched him walking up and down the street calling out for Ben Turner.”
Rose breathed a sigh of relief. Phillip was no heartless killer, but these people did not know him well enough to trust him. Surprisingly, Daniel, who obviously despised Phillip, had exonerated him. She mouthed to him the words, Thank you.
He answered in kind with, Not welcome. Then he added aloud, “We still have no way to identify the real killer.”
“If she is a shifter,” Miss Wood said, “then we must consider that the killer could be one of us. Perhaps what we should ask is, how are we to identify her among us?”
Rose raised a hand to her chest, then remembered the Cimaruta was not there. She wanted these people to expose their secrets to Phillip, yet she had not shared hers with them. It was time she laid open all her cards. “I have a way to uncover this shape-shifting murderer.”
Chapter Eleven
ROSE ARRIVED at her home in the company of Mrs. Weatheringham, her granddaughter Hope, and Miss Wood. She suspected the change in living arrangements would be as difficult for her as it would for her guests. She determined, however, to put aside her unease in order to ensure that her guests settled in as smoothly and comfortably as possible. Hannah would have to ready a few guestrooms.
Daniel and Stony, who had ridden on the outside of the hired hackney, jumped down first and helped the rest of the party to disembark and unload the luggage.
The street was busy this afternoon. Their arrival garnered much interest from pedestrians, and neighbors peering out open windows. Small groups gathered down the street, gesturing at them.
Her guests exclaimed in pleasure. Surprised at their interest, Rose took another look at her home. She used to tease her sister that the nameplate on the house should say Evelyn Ravenstock’s residence, since Eve had adored this place situated in the fashionable heart of London. A crisscross pattern of dark blue faced the rose-red brick townhouse. Further up, twisted chimneys rose from the roof, identifying its distinctive construction.
“It is a Tudor.” Mrs. Weatheringham sounded shocked. “I thought most of those homes had burned centuries ago?”
“This one escaped major damage.” Rose was suddenly proud of her old family home. Perhaps Eve was not the only one who loved it. “It still has most of its wooden foundation.”
“That makes this a most fortunate and blessed residence then,” the old lady said.
Bemused by such an optimistic proclamation of a home that had witnessed so many tragedies, Rose handed her key ring to Stony.
He raced up the stairs. When he swung the door wide, he startled Hannah on the other side. She let out an ear-splitting scream.
Hope hid behind her grandmother. Her covered ears and pouting lips suggested tears would be imminent.
Rose hurried up the steps and into the house. “Hannah, calm yourself!”
The young maid quieted but she continued to stare, open-mouthed, at the seven-foot tall brawny intruder.
“This young man is Stony, Hannah,” Rose said. “He is our new footman. And these people are my friends.”
Hannah shuffled aside to make room as everyone else came inside.
Mrs. Weatheringham sent Stony out to fetch the luggage. His exit had a good effect on Hannah, who finally closed her mouth.
Rose closed the door, shrouding the entryway in darkness. She hurried over to a tall window beside the front door and swished open the curtain. The windows were so grimy, only stray shafts pierced the gloom, but that was enough light to see by. Embarrassed, she avoided her new friends’ surprised gazes and ran over to open the matching window covering on the door’s other side.
She turned back to explain about the state of the house and found Daniel gazing intently toward the ceiling.
Rose followed his glance and for the fir
st time, noted cobwebs clinging to the entryway’s large chandelier. In the brighter light, the absence of décor on the walls and lack of seating was also starkly apparent. Chairs normally positioned against the wall were packed away upstairs. Even the once opulent gold and red carpet appeared dusty and dull. The scarcity of furniture, however, left plenty of room for them to spread out.
“I am unused to visitors,” she said in defense. “The drawing room will be more comfortable. There are chairs in there.” They were covered in Holland covers, but there were chairs.
“We are not your guests, my dear.” Mrs. Weatheringham patted Rose’s arm before she addressed the maid. “Hannah, is it?”
The maid curtsied. “Yes, ma’am.”
The door opened and Stony entered with a large trunk. He dropped it beside the front doors and went out for more.
Rose and her friends shifted closer to the stairs to give him room. Mrs. Weatheringham began introductions. “Hannah, I am Lady Roselyn’s new companion. This is my grandchild, Hope.”
Hope smiled and waved with nary a tear in sight. Rose breathed a sigh of relief to see the little girl already settling in.
“To my right is Miss Wood, who is here to put your mistress’s library in order.”
That was news. All of her grandmother’s volumes were packed in the attic. It seemed a lot of unnecessary work to unpack them for the short time the house would be open.
When Stony returned with his next load, he was duly presented to Hannah. She even shook his hand.
A knock interrupted them.
Stony snapped to attention and faced Rose.
At her bemused nod, he marched over to the door and opened it a sliver. Peering round the edge, he boomed, “Who be knocking at our door?”
Rose covered her mouth to hold back a laugh.
“Mrs. Pollard,” a woman boomed back. “Stony, let me pass. I knocked and knocked at the servant’s entrance, but no one answered.”
“That would be the housekeeper,” Mrs. Weatheringham said to Rose.
“What do you want?” Stony said.
“I want to come in, you dolt.”
“I will see if my mistress wants you to come in.” Stony shut the door.
Immediately, the woman started banging again on the solid oak panel.
Calmly, Stony glanced over his shoulder at Rose. “Shall I let her in, milady?”
“Stony,” Mrs. Weatheringham said, “That would be wise. Before your mother bores a hole in the wood.”
A wicked grin spread across his face. “May I not make her wait a bit longer?”
“Mother?” Rose whispered to Mrs. Weatheringham.
She nodded. “Stony, let her in. We have much to do and she is a vital part of our plans.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He opened the door and stood aside.
A large woman, almost as tall as Stony, strode inside. She wore a dyed-black cambric gown and carried a large parasol . . . which she promptly used to whack Stony’s rear end.
Beside Rose, Hannah gasped.
She took the girl’s hand before Hannah set to screaming again. The comforting gesture quieted her, but the girl’s fingers trembled within Rose’s hold. She turned towards her new houseguest. “Good morning. I am Lady Roselyn Ravenstock.”
“I am Pollard, my lady. Mrs. Weatheringham has requested that I act as your housekeeper.”
“Gad you could join us, Pollard.” She introduced Hannah. “She is my only servant, so it will take a few moments to ready all the rooms that will be needed.”
“No need to worry,” Mrs. Weatheringham said. “More help is on the way.”
More alliance members were coming? At this rate, she would have to open up the entire second floor.
Pollard looked around the dusty entryway. “Just as well. Else all of you would be pitching in to clean up.” Her gaze settled on Hannah. “Come closer, child, so I can see you proper.”
Hannah timidly stepped forward.
Behind Rose, something crackled. She glanced back. Daniel was tossing a ball of fire from hand to hand. Then he tossed it straight up.
Her heart leapt, imagining her timber-framed house, after having escaped the deadly fire of 1666, going up in flames now. But Daniel’s fireball split into smaller bits that nimbly landed on the tips of the chandelier’s candles. She used her hand to cover her gasp as the entryway grew brighter and burning cobwebs set off an astringent scent in the confined space.
She quickly checked on Hannah and was relieved to see Pollard had her safely distracted as the housekeeper walked around her in inspection.
She had to speak to the young girl soon, to explain about the alliance, of what she might witness in the coming days. Was she permitted to reveal their secrets to her maid? Rose would not countenance sending her away. She had been her lifeline this last year.
“You will have to do,” Pollard said. “Now pay attention, girl. As you are most familiar with the house, you will act as the upper housemaid. Every morning you will report to me for instructions. Your day will begin at six sharp and end after the mistress has retired for the night. You will, of course, be a live-in maid. Do you have any objections?”
Hannah’s eyes were wide as she shook her head. “Oh no, ma’am. I would be ever so grateful to stay here at night.”
Pollard faced Mrs. Weatheringham. “She will need an undermaid to assist her. And Lady Roselyn will require a lady’s maid. We must, of course, have a decent cook and laundry, kitchen and scullery maids. As for the men . . .”
Rose’s ears rang with the list of servants. Her home had never been this full, even when she was a little girl. The press of the world trying to regain entry into her quiet life was oppressive. The walls closed in, and Rose fought the urge to shoo everyone back out the front door, as she had done the day she dismissed all her servants.
Was she ready to join life again? Looking at her friends gathered in her entryway, and remembering Phillip snuggling her close last night, joy bubbled in her chest. Her answer welled up from deep within and erupted like a trumpet call. Yes!
Rose took a deep breath to calm her hammering heart. She extended her fingers wide and, with an exhale, released her grip on her lonely existence. It was time to let people back in.
“We already have a footman,” Mrs. Weatheringham said, indicating Stony.
His mother gave him a dubious look.
“I have also arranged for another footman, a coachman, and a groom.” With a satisfied sigh, the old woman added, “And Daniel Trenton will be Lady Roselyn’s new butler.”
Pollard sent him a respectful nod of acceptance.
Hannah’s gaze skittered from Rose to Mrs. Weatheringham and settled on Daniel. “He looks more like a footpad than a butler.” She slapped her hand across her mouth. Lowering her hand, she quickly added, “Not that you are one of them rogues, sir. I meant nothing by that comment.”
It was time she talked to the girl. “Hannah.”
“I am so sorry, my lady. I am sure Mr. Trenton is a fine upstanding gentleman.”
Rose was uncertain about that. Now she thought of it, she, too, found it easier to take him for a footpad than a servant. In fact, considering Daniel’s arrogant attitude, she could picture him as a duke easier than as a footman. She smiled at that far-fetched notion, and turned to Mrs. Weatheringham. She whispered her request to tell Hannah about the alliance.
The older lady’s attention shifted to the young maid.
Rose’s heartbeat sped with rising anxiety. Mrs. Weatheringham’s response portended much more than just Hannah’s inclusion in their secret. If she agreed to this small concession, the next person invited into the alliance’s fold could be Phillip. Rose held her breath.
After several moments, the older lady’s shoulders drooped as if in defeat, and she nodded her
acceptance.
Rose could have shouted with joy. She put her arm around the young girl’s shoulder and led her to the drawing room. “Come with me, Hannah. I wish to speak with you privately.”
“Oh, please, my lady, do not send me away.”
“I have no intention of doing so, Hannah. I value you too highly. But we must speak of some delicate matters.” She shut the door separating them from the others and faced the girl with determination. “Hannah, I trust these people. They are here to assist me. The only people I trust more are you and Sir Phillip. So, will you be a good girl and promise to help them settle in?”
“Oh yes, my lady,” Hannah said, looking highly relieved. “I was so worried when I came in this morning and you were not here. I am so glad you are all right.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out the Cimaruta. “Here, my lady, I kept it safe with me all night.”
Rose felt immeasurably better now that the amulet was back in her possession. She hugged Hannah fiercely. “Thank you.” Finally, she pulled back and, putting on the necklace, said, “Now, there is something about me that you are unaware.”
“That you dress like a man sometimes, my lady?”
That was a shock. “How do you know that?”
“I found the clothes hidden in your father’s room. I did not mean to pry. I was just cleaning there. I check every week to make sure no vermin have made nests in the unused rooms. Though why you would want to dress as a man is beyond me.”
“I am trying to find out who murdered Mrs. Helen Beaumont. In such investigations, people respond better to a man.”
“Oh, but that is dangerous, my lady.”
“Hence the need for a disguise. And it involves more than dressing the part. I also make myself look like a man.”
Hannah looked at her closely. Then she shook her head. “No, my lady, I cannot see it. Not even if you cut off all your beautiful hair, which would be a right shame.”
Time for a demonstration. It was difficult to change without a looking glass but she had done so once before after being ill near the harbor. She focused on the sensations the shift evoked. The twitching of her nose, her scalp itching as her hair shortened, her chest tightening and her vision blurring. The change happened swiftly. In one fell swoop, her long hair shot up to cup her head and her bosom flattened.
A Devilish Slumber Page 18