Whatever would have induced Miss Dunbar to cease patronizing one of the finest seamstresses in Bath suddenly? Knowing my employer as I did, I was not at all surprised Madame Leeson didn’t look at all distressed at the loss of business. “But you shall carry on nonetheless.”
The woman’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Precisely. I’m pleased you understand my meaning.” She paused and then opened her mouth to say more, however, a trio of giggling young ladies entered behind me, and she moved her focus to them.
With my task completed, I left the shop and began the walk back to the Dunbar house. As I followed the street, the feeling of being watched crept over me. Pausing on the pretense of admiring the flowers at a cart, I glanced back the way I’d just come. Just as I expected, a raggedly dressed boy dodged to the side.
Who had hired him to follow me? The possibilities seemed endless with as many men who seemed interested in me: Mr. Harper, Mr. Ingram, Daniel Dunbar, and, of course, Mr. Bladen. It was enough to make a girl’s head spin. Indeed, it was a group miss Dunbar would enjoy.
Coming to a quick decision, I whirled around and started back the way I’d come. I’d only taken a few steps when the boy bolted. Though I wanted to chase after him, I knew it would just attract attention I did not need. The boy was fast, and no doubt knew his way around the streets far better than I did.
My mood was thoughtful as I returned to the Dunbar house and its prison-like atmosphere. There was something I needed to do, and I’d put it off far too long. I hurried up to my room and pulled the bundle of letters from where I’d hidden them away in my boots.
For a moment, I stared at them. I’d tested Mr. Ingram’s patience as far as I dared. Breathing out, I straightened my shoulders and went back downstairs. I paused at the ajar door to Mrs. Dobbs’ sitting room. Inside, the woman sat at her table, making notes in her account books. She glanced up when I tapped lightly on the doorframe.
“Has Miss Dunbar asked for me?”
Raising her eyebrow, Mrs. Dobbs shook her head. “Are you going out again, Miss Nelson?” she asked with a frown. “I thought you just returned.”
“Unfortunately. I have a message to deliver.”
To my surprise, relief spread across her face. “I knew you would not be daft enough to not submit your references to Lady Leith. But be quick about it. Miss Dunbar is not a patient woman, and she will not be happy if you are not here when she sends for you.”
Swallowing, I averted my eyes so that she wouldn’t see the guilt I knew would be on my face. “I shan’t be gone long, Mrs. Dobbs,” I said. I quickly retreated before she could say any more on the matter.
Keeping my steps quick, I made the journey to Mr. Ingram’s house without spotting my little shadow. Nor was I caught by one of the several individuals who seemed to desire my attention so frequently as of late. To my great relief, the butler who answered my knock informed me that Mr. Ingram was not at home. I handed over the bundle letters and made my escape.
There was nothing more Mr. Ingram could get from me.
Chapter Twelve
‘I understand your concerns for my future, Aunt Beth, but allow me to assure you that....’
Breathing out, I stared at the sentence I’d written, unsure how I would finish it. In five years, this was the most time I’d ever spent away from my beloved aunt, and I’d been kept so busy while in Bath that I hadn’t had as many opportunities to write to her as I would have liked.
Honestly, though, there was little I wished to tell her about everything I had been enduring. She would only worry more than she already had been, which would not be good for her health. Once I was finished, I could tell her. Maybe. If I had anything worth mentioning.
Once I dipped the tip of my quill into the ink, I continued to write. ‘...you do not need to worry. I have matters well in hand. When I return, we may discuss my future if you are still inclined to do so. If, at that time, Uncle Frederick has come to a better understanding of me, I will consent to include him in the discussion as well.’
Aunt Beth would be so inclined; I did not doubt that. Though she always declared herself fortunate to have me with her in the past five years, she’d repeatedly lamented the fact that I was not yet married and had no immediate prospects of marriage. It was the only criticism she had for my uncle Frederick, her only nephew, for not putting me in the way of making a match.
I finished the letter by telling her I’d discovered letters from my brother, had met the girl who would have been my sister if Jonathan had lived, and that I was enjoying the scenery around Bath. I made mention of Mr. Douglas’ death, so that if she did not know before, she would once she received my letter and would not have pinned all of her hopes on that quarter.
Though I wasn’t entirely satisfied with it, I sealed the letter. Two days had passed since I’d delivered Jonathan’s messages to Mr. Ingram, and I hadn’t heard a word from the man. Miss Dunbar was in such a foul mood; I guessed that she had received no word from him either.
Did this mean he was no longer interested in me? Or was he merely biding his time until I was once again useful to him? I hadn’t discovered anything that could be construed as proof of Daniel Dunbar’s indiscretions, not that I had put effort into learning the information.
To my great delight, I saw Miss Anderson in deep conversation with Mr. Melbourne when I followed my employer to the Lower Pump Rooms. Miss Dunbar was less than pleased when she noticed the situation and had a massive tantrum once she was in the privacy of her room. Several bottles met their demise as a result.
My life had returned to a kind of normalcy. I assisted Miss Dunbar and tried to avoid her anger to the best of my ability. In defiance of Mr. Ingram’s wishes, I had continued to seek another position but had yielded no results. It appeared not a single woman in Bath desired a new lady’s maid, or was it merely that more experienced maids had won out?
As I went about Bath, I found myself on many occasions searching for Mr. Harper’s familiar face. I tried to convince myself that I simply wanted to confront him with the contents of my brother’s note or that if I knew he was back in Bath, I would know he was not investing in London where I didn’t want him. Deep down, I rather missed matching wits with the man.
Pulling my thoughts from the past weeks, I shook my head and pulled out the copy I’d made of the strange series of numbers I had found among Jonathan’s letters. Several times I had attempted to study it, searching for some clue to deciphering it. All I’d been left with was a headache for my effort. I was sure it was somehow important, or at least, it had held some significance five years previously.
With a sigh, I sat back in my chair and rubbed the side of my head. I couldn’t help but feel as though I were experiencing the calm before the storm. I’d learned that feeling well enough in London to recognize it once again. Trouble was brewing, though I couldn't be sure of where.
As if to confirm it, there was a light knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, moving the paper with the numbers to hide it under my blank sheets of papers. I twisted in my seat to face the door when it opened to reveal the housemaid. “Yes, Sally?”
“Mr. Dunbar wishes to see you,” Sally said, her eyes wide and her face pale. She seemed frightened. “Right away, he said.”
“Mr. Dunbar?” She couldn’t possibly mean... “Mr. Daniel Dunbar?” Sally nodded once, looking more nervous as she did so. What had the man done to frighten her so? With the hope of learning more, I asked, “Did he say why he desired my presence?” She shook her head, and I sighed. “Where is he?”
“His room.”
His room? Besides the absurd idea that he thought he could summon me, he thought to order me to his bedchamber? Was he drunk?
“Thank you, Sally.”
The girl took my words as the dismissal that they were and she retreated from the room. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to my feet. If Mr. Dunbar expected me to obey such a summons, he was sorely mistaken. It was inappropriate, and I would not stand for it. And I kne
w who else would not allow it.
I hurried down to where I knew Bunker would be entering accounts into his ledger. He raised his eyebrow at me when I stepped into the office. “Is there a problem, Miss Nelson?” he asked, resignation in his tone. He undoubtedly had become accustomed to the troubles I brought him.
“I am unsure. Mr. Daniel Dunbar has requested my presence in his room.” I saw no point to not get straight to the heart of the matter. I felt vaguely guilty that I only approached him when I had some problem. He deserved much better than that. “You can understand why I hesitate to comply.”
Bunker’s face darkened. “Indeed. Thank you for bringing the matter to me. I shall send one of the footmen to inquire what Mr. Daniel is in need of and inform him that you are occupied with your duties at this time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With the matter settled, at least in my opinion, I retreated from the office. With Miss Dunbar fully occupied with visitors and with my duties completed for the moment, I hesitated with what to be truly occupied with. I didn’t want to be anywhere near where Mr. Dunbar could see me, but I couldn’t leave the house.
“Mrs. Dobbs is currently not in her sitting room,” Bunker said as he went past me. He kept walking, not even pausing to acknowledge my nod of gratitude.
Relieved, I made the few steps to the door of Mrs. Dobbs’ sitting room. The entire household was far more supportive of me than I’d ever dreamed they would be. Perhaps it was because we all suffered under Miss Dunbar who, quite literally it seemed, ruled the house with her temper and tantrums. I’d only seen her father a handful of times, and he seemed to have no idea of, or little care for, his children’s behavior.
With a sigh, I sat in front of the pianoforte and picked up the sheet music that was stacked next to it. Surprisingly, Mrs. Dobbs had an excellent selection of new music, and I settled in to enjoy myself for a few brief moments.
I knew to take my bits of relaxation whenever I could.
TO MY SURPRISE, MY refusal to obey Daniel Dunbar’s summons was not brought up by anyone. Miss Dunbar returned from the musical soiree she’d attended soon after I began to play the pianoforte. When I next saw Bunker, he said nothing of the matter. I could only wonder what excuse Mr. Dunbar had given when questioned about his reason for asking for me. I wasn’t about to ask.
A few days later was my next half-day, and I made the walk to my brother’s grave. Birds singing in the tree and the fresh air brushing against my face always managed to calm and relax me. When I arrived at the graveyard, I found that once again I was not the first one there.
“Oh, Miss Nelson, I was not expecting to see anyone here,” Miss Anderson said, rising from where she’d knelt at the gravestone. “You’re kind to come so often.”
If she only knew! “I am glad to do it as Miss Sinclair cannot.”
Would I ever be able to meet her as myself? No, she would surely recognize me. Would I be able to explain?
She looked back at the gravestone, and mixed emotions crossed her face. “Do you think it’s silly of me to talk as though Jonathan were here?” she asked. She continued speaking without giving me a moment to respond to the curious question. “Of course, I know he isn’t, and he cannot possibly hear me.”
Why was she asking me? Did she just need someone to talk to? Someone who didn't judge her for remaining true to a man who had died? “I think we all find it helpful to talk things out at times. Even when there is no one to answer us.”
With a sigh, Miss Anderson nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. You must be right.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
With a soft laugh, Miss Anderson faced me. “I can well believe that. You have to be the most forthright individual I’ve ever met, Miss Nelson.”
Smiling, I stepped closer. “I take that as a compliment.”
She shifted to stand by my side, and together we looked down at the grave. “I thought at first that Mr. Melbourne was one of those dandy gentlemen who go about without a care in the world,” Miss Anderson said after several long moments of silence. “But he is nothing like that at all. He...well, he reminds me of Jonathan at times.”
In my mind, they were nothing alike. How could they be? “Do you have much experience with dandies, then, Miss Anderson?” I asked, determined not to argue the matter.
“Oh, not really,” she replied, clasping her hands together. “But my mother used to warn me against a young man who laughs too much. She said such a man could not be depended on to consider necessary things with the seriousness they require. I suppose after time I thought such a man was the same type of person as a dandy.”
Memories of my brother, laughing at some jest, flitted through my mind. Of course, I understood then the similarity she saw between Jonathan and Mr. Melbourne. “I see. Does Mr. Melbourne meet your parents’ approval or is he too lighthearted for their taste?”
A becoming blush spread across her cheeks. “My parents do approve of him, though my mother thinks his constant gaiety is uncalled for. My mother is of a serious temperament, you understand.”
I could well believe a mother might think Mr. Melbourne’s constant merriment inappropriate, but I had seen him behave with gravity. Perhaps once Mrs. Anderson saw him take a matter seriously, her opinion of him would improve. Would it be possible to drop a word of warning in Mr. Melbourne’s ear, or let him work it out for himself?
“A husband who laughs will make the years pass by pleasantly.”
The blush on Miss Anderson’s cheeks deepened in color. “That’s what I have always thought.”
Silence fell between us for a long minute as we both studied the gravestone before us. “Miss Anderson, is there anything at all you can tell me about Jonathan Sinclair’s last days?” I asked impulsively. “I swear I shall never mention the matter to you after this day. Only, it would bring comfort to his sister to know everything she can. She knows nothing, you see.”
Miss Anderson reached out and caught my hand for a brief moment. “Oh, of course,” she said. She sent a glance at the sky, judging the hour. “Shall we walk together for a time? I must be returning home before I am missed.”
With a nod, I allowed her to set the pace and then fell into step beside her. “Jonathan was agitated, the last time I saw him, and very ill,” she said as we left the cemetery. “But when I expressed my concern, he assured me that all was well. I, of course, believed him. Why wouldn't I? We were to meet the next day, but he sent me a note saying he was unwell. It was the day after when the news reached me that he was dead.”
She spoke calmly and without any trace of emotion. “Then, he did die from a fever?” I asked, admiring her composure on what had to be a painful subject.
“The fever played a part, certainly.” Miss Anderson glanced at me with a frown. “Did Miss Sinclair not tell you the details of how her brother died?”
I hesitated, suddenly unsure. How much should I share? Would she think less of me that I knew so little? “At the time, Miss Sinclair was informed that her brother died from an illness, and Mr. Melbourne was of the same opinion when I mentioned the matter to him. However, Miss Sinclair recently was told that her brother’s death was not as natural as she had been lead to believe.”
“Oh, dear. Then, Miss Sinclair really doesn’t know?”
“She does not, and I would be grateful if you would tell me. So that I may pass the information on to her.” I added the last swiftly, catching myself before she could catch my slip. “Not knowing has been distressing.”
Miss Anderson went a few steps in silence. “I’m afraid she won’t find the news comforting at all. You see, Jonathan was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs. The fall is what killed him. The doctor who was called to the scene, who knew how ill Jonathan had been, guessed that the fever had made him dizzy and he lost his balance or was disoriented.”
“A fall?” Was this why I had been told illness had killed my brother?
The lady nodded earnestly. “Dr
. Timmins said Jonathan must have died instantly and did not suffer at all, so there is a small bit of comfort to be had. I do hope you will assure Miss Sinclair of that fact.”
“Yes.” I was aware of the distant note in my voice but unable to keep it at bay. Did she not realize that a fall could be called an accident, but it also could have been a deliberate attack? “Yes, I will tell her.”
“Miss Nelson, if I were to pen a letter, explaining what her brother meant to me, and you were to deliver it to her hands, do you think she would appreciate it?”
With an effort, I pulled myself from my thoughts. “I think she would find it comforting. You’re thoughtful to suggest it.”
“Then, I will do so,” Miss Anderson said with determination. “I have wanted to meet her after all these years. Good day, Miss Nelson.”
She hurried on ahead of me as my own steps slowed. On the surface, I could see how someone would believe Jonathan’s death from falling down a flight of stairs was an accident, but knowing everything that I did, I couldn’t help but see a more sinister scenario. I’d been told Jonathan’s death had been deliberate, and now I was sure it was true.
“But who? Who would have killed him?” I spun around, frustrated once again. Was it the mysterious H Jonathan’s note had mentioned? Or was it someone else and the matter with H being an unrelated matter? “I must discover the truth. I must!”
I’d sacrificed so much that to not know was simply unthinkable.
THE FOLLOWING DAY WHEN I observed Miss Anderson walking to some shop or other with Mr. Adam Melbourne by her side, I couldn’t help but smile. The pair seemed suited for each other, and I was delighted that they might find happiness together. Miss Anderson had waited long enough for that.
“You appear pleased, Miss Nelson.”
With a start, I glanced over to find Oswyn Harper standing by me. It could only be taken as a compliment that he did not view me as a lady as it meant I was still playing my part well. A gentleman would never address a lady unless she had first indicated he should. It was the most basic rule of etiquette.
The Debutante: A Regency Mystery (The Sinclair Society Book 2) Page 11