Page 32 of Murder in Matrimony (A Lady of Letters Mystery #4)
TWENTY-THREE
Dear Lady Agony,
Are all brides doomed to wear white? My skin looks dreadful in the pale color, yet the dressmaker says it is all she sews. What is a woman to do? I’m to be married next June.
Devotedly,
I Prefer Colors
Dear I Prefer Colors,
I’m afraid brides continue to wear white for the time being. Although at one time, brides wore red, pink, blue, brown, or black, since the wedding of our great Queen Victoria, brides have shunned colors altogether. I’m sorry white does not agree with your skin tone. Perhaps ivory will agree better.
Yours in Secret,
Lady Agony
The first several minutes in the house, Amelia’s attention was divided in multiple directions.
Madge asked about her wedding dress, their mother wondered about tea, and her sisters demanded a tour of the garden immediately.
It was her father, however, who drew her attention with his calm presence, and Amelia held out her arms to him.
His quietness was a comfort to her, and she took in his warm brown eyes, so much like her own, and steady deportment with gratitude and relief.
The entire house might be in a whirlwind, but with her father at her side, she could weather any maelstrom.
“First your rooms, then tea, then a tour.” Amelia’s eyes flicked to Madge. “Your dress will be fitted tomorrow, as well as ours.”
“And where shall I put the duck?” Aunt Gertrude was a tall woman, as tall as Aunt Tabitha, and her loud voice carried above Amelia’s head, filling the hallway.
“Follow me, please.” The timbre of Aunt Tabitha’s words determined her authority, and the two women set off in the direction of the kitchen while Mrs. Tipping showed the rest of the family to their rooms.
Meanwhile, Amelia prepared for tea in the formal drawing room, a large space that could accommodate everyone and more.
Winifred trailed behind her, giddy with excitement.
As her family trickled in, the room grew louder, and Amelia’s heart grew full.
Family would always mean noise to her, a cheerful din that couldn’t be replicated in any of London’s ballrooms. This was a different kind of noise, a happy noise among people who loved one another.
“How are the wedding preparations coming?” Mrs. Scott asked as soon as the tea was poured.
“I’m afraid I have sad news to report from the church.” Amelia took a sip of her tea, knowing it was going to be a long afternoon with much conversation. “Mr. Cross was murdered after Madge left for Somerset. Mr. Penroy will be the new officiant.”
“Murdered,” repeated Amelia’s sister Sarah with a gasp.
Sarah looked the most like their mother, with fair brown hair and blue eyes that might be described as wistful.
She was sensitive with a delicate constitution and preferred music to conversation.
Amelia had seen her play the pianoforte for hours without speaking a word to anyone, living in the blithe music of her own making.
“There are lots of murders here.” Unbothered by the information, Madge selected three lemon cakes. “Believe me. I’ve seen them—personally.”
“London is a large city.” Mr. Scott sought to soothe his daughter Sarah’s nerves. “Much more happens here, good and bad, than our little village in Somerset.”
“Mr. Penroy has a request of you and the captain.” Amelia hid the next statement behind her teacup. “To meet at the vicarage before the wedding.”
Madge almost tipped her plate. “What? Why?”
“It doesn’t surprise me that the church thinks you need more instruction,” put in Amelia’s sister Penelope, winking at Amelia.
Penelope was the eldest Scott sister, and she and Amelia understood each other without saying a word.
Penelope knew all her sisters intuitively.
Having her present was as welcome now as ever.
To survive the next week would take patience and empathy, and Amelia could count on her sister for both.
Like everyone in the Scott family, Penelope was hard working, but she lacked the dramatic reactions some of the family fell prey to.
If something must be done, she set about doing it without hesitation or fuss.
Amelia appreciated the quality she sometimes lacked in herself.
“I don’t need instruction.” Madge pouted. “The captain and I love one another, and that’s all the vicar needs to know.”
“If only it were that easy, Madge.” Amelia sighed. “Mr. Penroy is a young priest, and he has certain ideas that must be entertained. Not being known to you personally, and All Saints not being your home parish, he’d like time to acquaint himself with you and the captain. I’m sure that’s all it is.”
“I think it’s a fine idea. What could be more natural?” Sarah was more inclined toward religion than the rest of the family, and it did not astonish Amelia that she would enjoy getting to know a priest. While the family was faithful, Sarah might be described as devout.
Madge sniffed at the idea, not bothering to hide her feelings. “How was the old priest killed anyhow?”
“He was murdered by a thief after the poor box. At least that is what they say …” Amelia allowed the sentiment to trail off, but her family, keen to her emotions, sensed a difficulty.
Madge put down her plate of cake. “You do not think so?”
Amelia noted Winifred’s rapt attention and avoided an answer. “I don’t know what to think. What I do know is that the meeting is to take place before the wedding, and I’m positive it will be easy enough to arrange between fittings and flowers and food arrangements.”
“Of course it will be,” said Mrs. Scott magnanimously.
At that point, Uncle Henry, Aunt Gert, and Aunt Tabitha joined them in the drawing room, and Amelia was happy to see the duck no longer accompanied them.
Uncle Henry was every bit as tall as the two women but differed in his round stomach and jolly face.
He laughed easily and often, and it did not take much to entice a chuckle from his lips.
He was her mother’s brother, and their single resemblance was a divot in the chin which couldn’t be mistaken for another’s in a thousand years.
“Nothing stronger than tea, I suppose?” Uncle Henry said with a chortle. “But that’s to be expected in Mayfair. Fine houses, fine manners—but where is the fine sherry, I ask you?”
That was put away days ago, thought Amelia. It was one of the first tasks she completed when she heard Uncle Henry was arriving with her parents.
“Satisfy yourself with a warm cup and a piece of cake, Henry.” These instructions were given by Aunt Gertrude, who pointed to an empty chair. “Do not make yourself a nuisance.”
Tabitha was pleased with the instructions, or at least her shoulders relaxed as she selected her own chair.
The subject of murder was dropped and not brought up again, and Amelia internally thanked her family.
If Uncle Henry got ahold of the subject of murder, she wasn’t sure how she’d get him off it.
Instead, they talked of the wedding breakfast, and upon discussion, Aunt Tabitha came to realize Aunt Gertrude was an authority on food, menus, and gastric pleasures of every kind.
She had someone to talk to who loved food as much as she did, and soon, they drew into a side conversation that couldn’t be disturbed.
Meanwhile, Amelia and her sisters talked of dresses, and the men talked of horses.
The women made plans to leave early the next day for the fittings.
The dressmaker was scurrying to finish the final details and could not make the trip out to Mayfair.
Amelia’s mother and sisters were glad to go to the shop, for they had not been to Regent Street and looked forward to seeing the famous street on their excursion.
Glancing into their eager faces, Amelia looked forward to the trip too.
They were much like herself, she imagined, encountering the variety that was London a little more than two years ago.
So much had changed since then. She’d become a wife to Edgar, a mother to Winifred, and a pain in the side to Aunt Tabitha.
She smiled. Yet so much remained the same: the unconditional love of her parents, the unwavering support of her sisters, and the comfort of having family in the house. Tomorrow would be a delightful day.
As good as their promise, the women were up with the sun the next day. The Scott family were early risers naturally, and staying in town could not change that. Instead of her morning walk, Amelia went directly to the breakfast table, where footmen were scurrying to finish laying the sideboard.
After they breakfasted heartily (all the Scotts were fine eaters), the women, along with Winifred, who wouldn’t miss it for the world, set off for the dressmakers.
Anita Hernandez was recently installed in London from Mexico and had a keen eye for fashion, which Kitty discovered immediately.
After Kitty sang her praises to influential friends, the dress shop flourished, and Miss Hernandez relocated to Regent Street.
Amelia felt fortunate she had committed to the order under a reduced timeline.
The small shop smelled of fresh starch and linen, and two front windows allowed ample light, even in the grayness of the early day.
Later, sunlight would pour into those same windows, allowing for a genial warmth that couldn’t be replicated in larger stores.
Miss Hernandez cared for her customers the way some mothers cared for their children.
Her first and last thought of the day was how to best serve them.
“Lady Amesbury, I’ve been expecting you and your family.
” Miss Hernandez rushed to greet her as soon as the door opened.
Her dress was perfection, a light blue in Isabeau style with dark blue rosettes down the front.
The color brought out the rich hues of her skin, not to mention her silky brown hair, which was parted down the middle and pulled away from her face in a severe chignon.