by Blythe Baker
Before the day was through, Charles and Vivian Barry arrived at the estate, as well. When their car stopped at the top of the driveway, I thought Lady Ashton would cry.
“We are only here because we could no longer avoid the excitement,” Vivian Barry said, pulling Catherine into a tight hug. “I remember romping together in the woods as children, and now you are engaged. It is such an exciting time.”
“Thrilling,” Catherine said, though her hands were fisted tightly at her sides.
Lady Ashton had apparently reached her breaking point and sagged, her head shaking. “I’m sorry, Charles, but we do not have any rooms available. We would love nothing more than to have you stay with us, but—”
“Oh, we have not come to stay,” Charles said, his bright blond hair sparkling in the afternoon light. He turned to Catherine, nearly devouring her with his eyes. “We will return to our own home this evening. We just had to come and wish our dear friend Catherine the best of everything.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said curtly, avoiding his gaze.
“Funny that you are marrying another man named Charles, isn’t it?” he asked.
Color rose in Catherine’s neck. “It is a very common name.”
“I suppose it is. Though, before her death, my mother swore the two of us would marry one day. Isn’t that funny?” he asked.
“You must be a very jolly man to find so many things so funny,” Catherine said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.
Lady Ashton looked between her daughter and their guest, her brow knotted quizzically, and then reached for Vivian’s arm. “You two are just in time for afternoon tea. All the other guests are in the back garden. Won’t you join us?”
“We would be delighted,” Charles answered. “Vivian has been anxious to meet Catherine’s intended. We want to make sure he is good enough for our dear Catherine.”
Lady Ashton and Vivian took up the lead with Catherine and Charles Barry following behind. Catherine stayed to the far left of the pathway, doing her utmost to keep space between her and the male Barry, but Charles paid no mind to her efforts and stayed close to her side. I could not hear what they were saying, but he had his head turned towards her the entire time he spoke, staring at her face. Catherine, instead, looked straight ahead, never once meeting his eyes.
“Mr. Barry does not seem to be taking the news of Catherine’s engagement well,” Alice whispered, the sour mood she’d been in since learning of our new room arrangements momentarily lifted. “I believe he has come with the sole purpose of trying to stop the wedding.”
“Surely not,” I said as Charles pressed himself so closely to Catherine that she was forced to step off of the path and into the grass.
“He has been in love with her since they were children,” Alice said.
“They’ve known one another that long?” I asked absently.
Alice turned to me, eyes narrowed. “You knew that, Rose. I was too young to pay much attention, but you were here during many of our weeks here when Charles would come over every day to see Catherine. He would always claim Vivian wanted to play, but everyone knew he was the one who wanted Catherine’s company.”
“Of course,” I said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “It slipped my mind.”
Alice nodded, though I felt her gaze on me as we walked inside. Luckily, the men were returning from their hunting excursion just as we arrived inside, and Nicholas Whitlock stole her attention away.
7
Charles and Vivian left that evening after dinner just as they promised, but they returned early the next morning as breakfast was being brought out. Aunt Ruth was warm and friendly to Charles—a side of her I’d never seen before—and it quickly became apparent why.
“Margaret, tell Charles about your summer spent with the ballet,” Aunt Ruth said.
Charles turned towards Ruth Blake’s three daughters, searching for which one was Margaret despite the fact he had been introduced to them only the day before and reminded of their names again that morning. The three women, as they had every day since I’d made their acquaintance, were wearing similar drop-waist dresses in the same shade of green, their dark hair twisted into identical knots at the back of their thick necks.
“You were in the ballet?” Charles asked indirectly, still not sure which sister to look at.
The woman in the middle—the shortest and broadest of the bunch—shook her head. “I assisted backstage. Lights and costumes.”
“Important work,” Charles said. “Without lights and costumes there would be no show.”
Margaret smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, and returned to her breakfast. The sister on her right, either Ann or Helen, I couldn’t be certain, perked up.
“It was an important job, which is why Margaret was relieved of her duties after she sent three of the ballerinas on stage without their skirts.” She snickered.
“That was not my doing,” Margaret argued, her already heavy brow lowered even further. “The dancers did not return their costumes after the previous performance.”
“But it was your job to collect them,” the other sister argued. “A job you failed to do that led to three dancers being half-naked on stage.”
Charles’ face flushed and his sister turned away from the three Blake sisters who were all beginning to turn on one another, whispering in hushed voices. “So, Charles,” she said, addressing Catherine’s future husband. She laughed. “It feels so strange to say that name and not be talking to my brother.”
“Not that strange,” Catherine mumbled. She said something else about the name being very common, though Vivian did not pay her any attention.
“We hear you are taking our Catherine back to America,” she said, her lower lip pouting out. “We did hope she would return to this country. Everyone understood the desire to leave temporarily, of course. I mean, after what happened.”
Her voice trailed off and the table fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lady Ashton’s eyes were wide and lowered to her plate and Lord Ashton sipped his tea with a stiff upper lip and rigid posture.
“I would go anywhere in the world to be with Catherine,” Charles Cresswell said, squeezing his fiancée’s hand. “It just so happens she loves New York as much as I do, which works out well for me.”
“New York City is so crowded,” Charles Barry said, nose wrinkled. “And dirty.”
“Oh, have you been?” Alice asked, turning away from watching Nicholas Whitlock eat long enough to join the conversation.
Charles licked his lips and adjusted his posture. “No, but I know many people who have been. Very few have had good things to say.”
“The same could be said of London,” Catherine pointed out.
Charles Barry opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Miss Brown hurried into the room. Everyone turned towards her, and she visibly shrank under the attention and leaned down to whisper something to Lady Ashton. My aunt’s face creased in concern, and she turned to her nephew.
“Nicholas, it appears your grandmother requires your assistance.”
“Oh?” he asked, instantly removing his napkin from his lap and pushing away from the table. “Is she refusing to leave her room?”
Miss Brown looked around at the table as if she didn’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone and then lowered her head and nodded. “Yes. She insisted that I could not be the one to bring her down. I tried to convince her, but she was becoming upset, and I—”
“I’m sure you did nothing wrong, Miss Brown,” Nicholas said, his voice soft and gentle. “My grandmother can be a stubborn woman when she wants to be. I will tend to her.”
He left the room and Miss Brown moved to the corner to quietly await the old woman’s arrival. She looked distressed, her eyes glistening as though she was near tears, but no one paid her any attention. Lady Harwood was at the far end of the table counting out a mountain of pills handed to her by Dr. Shaw, and Aunt Ruth was trying to convince Charles Barry of the pe
digree of each of her three daughters. None of the girls, however, showed any interest in Charles at all, but rather were more concerned with reminiscing about things that brought the two others some level of shame. Vivian took the opportunity brought about by Nicholas’ absence to ask about his relation to the family. It was obvious immediately that she had some level of interest in him, which put Alice on guard immediately.
“He lives full-time with his grandmother,” Alice said before anyone else could answer Vivian’s question. “She never leaves the house, so he is holed up in her mansion all the time.”
“Mansion?” Vivian asked, eyes wide with interest.
“I suppose you could call it that,” Alice shrugged. “Though, I’ve heard it is very run down. Barely a mansion at all.”
“That isn’t true,” Catherine said, wrinkling her forehead at her younger sister. “Aunt Augusta is quite wealthy. She is a widow, and most people suspect Nicholas, as her favorite grandson, will inherit most of her estate.”
“He truly seems to care for her,” Vivian said with a smile. “It is very sweet.”
“I suppose,” Alice said, not sounding at all convinced. “If you want to share him with an old woman.”
“Alice,” Lady Ashton whispered harshly. Lady Harwood, who likely would have taken the most offense at her words, was too busy drinking water and swallowing her many pills to notice.
“Well, it is the truth,” Alice said, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms. “Until Aunt Augusta dies, Nicholas will spend much of his time caring for her. She is very ill.”
Catherine took a deep breath, and I saw Charles reach across and lay a hand on his wife-to-be’s leg. She smiled up at him, and I could see her physically relax. Lady Ashton turned to Lord Ashton, hoping for some assistance in wrangling their youngest daughter, but he was engrossed in the newspaper and showed no signs of having heard the current conversation at all.
Alice may have continued talking had Aunt Augusta’s voice not drifted down the stairs and into the sitting room.
“I know what happened,” she said, her frail voice filling the otherwise quiet house.
“It isn’t that I do not believe you, Grandmother,” Nicholas said softly. “It is just that there is no proof to support your accusation.”
“Everyone always wants proof. As if criminal masterminds leave any proof behind,” Aunt Augusta said, walking into the dining room on shaky legs, her arm wrapped around Nicholas’.
“What is this about a criminal mastermind?” Charles Barry asked, turning in his seat.
“It is nothing,” Nicholas said, trying to hurry his grandmother towards her seat.
“It is not nothing,” Aunt Augusta argued. She let go of her grandson’s arm, and I worried for a moment she would topple over. If possible, she looked paler than she had the day before. As though the color was slowly draining out of her with each minute she was alive. She had on a thick velvet dress that covered her from neck to ankles paired with white gloves. Still, despite the warm morning air rolling through the open terrace doors, she seemed to be shivering.
“I have been robbed.”
There was a quiet, collective groan from the table. Aunt Augusta had mentioned the robbery of her London home to everyone who would listen. Just yesterday, she’d told me twice, each time complaining about the lack of interest from the police and even her own grandson.
“He is a lovely boy,” she’d said. “But he does not believe I was actually robbed. A person knows when they’ve been stolen from.”
“Lord Ashton told you he would talk to the police once we’ve returned to London,” Lady Ashton said. “Why don’t you sit and take some breakfast?”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to be able to ask them to do,” Lord Ashton said.
My aunt looked at her husband and flared her nostrils in annoyance, but his attention had already returned to the newspaper.
“The London police cannot help me. We need to call the local police,” she said. “Someone should send for them now.”
“Grandmother,” Nicholas said more sharply than I’d ever heard him speak. “Please, sit and eat something. You’ll feel better.”
“I will not feel better until my belongings have been returned to me.” Aunt Augusta’s chest was rising and falling quickly, and she was out of breath. Speaking seemed to tax her greatly, and I wondered how much Nicholas had to do for her. She seemed frailer than most. Certainly frailer than Lady Harwood, yet she’d had Dr. Shaw as her personal physician for years. I couldn’t understand why Aunt Augusta wouldn’t use her vast fortune to hire adequate help.
Lady Ashton stood up and moved to Aunt Augusta’s other side, trying to urge her forward. The old woman remained resolute. “There is nothing we can do about what was stolen from you now. I know it is upsetting, but you should really try to forget about it until you are back in London.”
“I cannot wait until I’m back in London,” she said, tongue darting out to wet her thin lips. “This matter must be resolved now, while the thief is still here among us.”
At this, the entire table, which had moments before been doing their best to ignore Aunt Augusta’s outburst, turned. Aunt Ruth leaned around Charles Barry. “What do you mean the thief is among us?”
“Certainly you are not suggesting one of us stole from you?” Vivian Barry asked, a superior smile on her face.
“We’ve all heard of your vast wealth, Mrs. Whitlock,” Charles Barry said, leaning forward with an expression identical to his sister’s spread across his face. “But no one in this room is bad enough off to stoop to stealing.” He stopped and turned to the other Charles. “At least, as far as I am aware.”
Catherine glared at the male Barry, but Charles Cresswell laid a comforting hand on his fiancée’s elbow and did not respond. Charles Barry, unable to get a rise out of his target, turned back to Aunt Augusta.
“I would never insult your guests,” Aunt Augusta said to Lady Ashton, who bowed her head in gratitude. “Your staff, however, I cannot speak as highly of.”
Lady Ashton’s gratitude turned to suspicion. “Are you accusing my servants of stealing from you? Because I can assure you they have all worked for me for years without incident. I will vouch for every single one of them.”
“Please, Grandmother,” Nicholas said, his cheeks growing red. “Let’s not do this now.”
“It must be done now,” Aunt Augusta said, stepping backwards, momentarily losing her balance and having to catch herself on the door frame. She slowly turned away from the table to look directly at Miss Brown.
Lady Ashton’s personal attendant had been silent throughout the entire ordeal, and she remained still enough that I almost forgot she was in the room at all. However, as soon as Aunt Augusta turned her attention to her, Miss Brown seemed to glow from head to toe. Her brown eyes widened until a circle of white haloed around her irises. She looked to Lady Ashton and then to the rest of the table as though looking for someone to help her, but everyone at the table was as stricken as she was, unsure what to do.
“This woman took advantage of me,” Aunt Augusta said, lifting a trembling arm to point at Miss Brown. “She thought I was too old to notice when my things go missing. She thought I wouldn’t be aware enough to catch her in the act, but I have done it, and I will not rest until she has been brought to justice.”
Lady Ashton’s mouth was hanging open. She turned to her husband for help, and finally, Lord Ashton had lowered his paper, but he did not seem particularly ready to take any action. Lady Ashton laid a hand on Aunt Augusta’s shoulder.
“Aunt Augusta, I do not at all want to diminish your claim, but Miss Brown has been in my home for the better part of a year. She has always been a helpful, willing employee, and I have every faith in her.”
Miss Brown sagged with relief, but her back went rigid again when Aunt Augusta pulled away from Lady Ashton and took a step towards her.
“I cannot say whether this woman has served you well or not,” she sa
id, pausing to cough, her chest rattling violently. “I can only speak to her performance while assisting me. I arrived yesterday with a small box of jewelry that is important to me. Important enough that I did not want to leave it behind in London in case the thieves who robbed me before should return. This morning, however, when I opened the box, a cherished necklace was missing. I searched my room, but there was no trace of it. And the last person to have opened the box was your Miss Brown when she replaced my earrings there last night before I retired for the evening.”
“Perhaps, you did not bring it with you,” Nicholas said. “Which necklace was it? It may very well be in your bedroom in London.”
Aunt Augusta shook her head. “It was the necklace given to me by my mother the day of my wedding. It is not an item I would misplace or forget.”
Nicholas bit his lower lip, and I could tell he knew the necklace at once. Lady Ashton looked to him, hoping he would continue trying to calm his grandmother, but it appeared he was giving up. My aunt looked helplessly once more to her husband before turning back to her guests, her eyes eventually landing on me. I could see the plea in her eyes, so with no idea what I would do, I stepped away from the table and crossed the room.
“I’m sure this can be settled,” I said.
“It will be settled when my property is returned to me,” the old woman said, eyes narrowed at me. “And I would appreciate it if you would keep out of it. This is a family matter.”
“Rose is family,” Lady Ashton said sternly, moving to lay an arm around my shoulder.
There was enough going on that Lady Ashton did not need to worry about defending me, as well, but I appreciated it nonetheless.
“Regardless,” Aunt Augusta said only slightly less haughty. “The matter will not be resolved happily until my necklace is returned.”
Finally, Miss Brown stepped forward, and Lady Ashton gestured for her to speak. “Yes, Miss Brown. Please come forward and tell us your side of the story.”