Page 39 of Murder in Matrimony (A Lady of Letters Mystery #4)

TWENTY-SEVEN

Dear Lady Agony,

A good many women are taking up a habit reserved for men: the after-dinner drink. I’ve seen two women in as many months opt for a glass of port after a large meal. What is the reason behind it, and what if it continues? I cannot imagine the men want us drinking with them.

Devotedly,

Tea for Me

Dear Tea for Me,

Two women in two months? That is not many.

From the tone of your letter, one would think women everywhere are assaulting the liquor cabinet.

But to answer your questions, the reason is enjoyment, and the consequence is happiness.

A drink after dinner hurts no one, only your sensibilities.

Rid yourself of them, and all will be well.

Yours in Secret,

Lady Agony

Amelia returned from Baker Biscuits to find Captain Fitz and Madge in a tête-à-tête in the drawing room.

It was music to her ears to hear them conversing like civilized adults.

After finding Captain Fitz in the gooseberry bush and Madge upstairs shut away in her room yesterday, Amelia wondered if the couple would ever reconcile.

Now it appeared the wedding would take place after all.

Thank heavens! The tormenting hours had come to nothing.

“It’s a good omen, isn’t it?” whispered Mrs. Scott behind her shoulder.

“Gracious.” Amelia jumped. “You startled me.”

“You’re not the only one who listens at closed doors.

” Her mother tweaked her arm. “I would scold you if I weren’t doing likewise, but desperate times require desperate measures, as they say, and the situation is as desperate as any I’ve known.

What would have happened if she called off the wedding? ”

Amelia cringed. “I do not even want to consider the possibility.”

“Lady Tabitha would have disowned you, and the Fitz family would have cut you.” Mrs. Scott’s face turned as white as the hand she brought to her mouth.

“I said I did not want to consider the possibility.” Amelia heard a small laugh from behind the closed door and paused, listening. Her shoulders relaxed with the noise. “Did you talk to Madge today?”

“I did,” confirmed Mrs. Scott. “When you left with Mrs. Hamsted, she finally came out of her room, completely ravenous. It was as if she had overcome an illness. She ate an entire plate of cold chicken, three biscuits, and two cherry tartlets. I asked her if she shouldn’t resist, for the sake of the wedding dress, but she said Captain Fitz didn’t care a fig about the wedding dress, and neither did she.

As you can imagine, I went quite silent at the comment, but she continued by saying she’d had a fine letter from the captain, who would be calling upon her later.

” She pointed to the closed door. “They have been in there for half an hour, and I have heard only happy murmurings.”

“And Lettie? Is she in there also?” Amelia hoped someone was present who could report back the generalities of the conversation. She needed assurance that the wedding would take place as planned and that the couple felt assured of their direction.

Mrs. Scott shook her head. “Lady Tabitha said it wasn’t necessary.

She said they are engaged and could enjoy a few moments of privacy.

” She looked over her shoulder. “As you know, she didn’t witness the commotion yesterday, and perhaps Mrs. Addington did not tell her of it.

Lady Tabitha has been so pleased with Aunt Gertrude’s cookery that the two women have been exalting each other’s recipes for the better part of an hour. ”

Amelia smiled. “Aunt Tabitha will miss Gertrude when she leaves.”

“Don’t worry your head about that, dear.

” Mrs. Scott had the ability to make Amelia feel seven years old again and did so now with a simple tilt of her face.

“Madge tells me that she and the captain will be living in London until a property becomes available. Aunt Gertrude plans to visit frequently.”

Amelia squeezed the bridge of her nose briefly, convincing herself that having family nearby was good.

She and Madge would be able to visit all the time.

Every day, even. Aunt Gertrude would have an excuse to come to town.

They all would. Amelia swallowed. She couldn’t think about that now.

She needed to think about the wedding. Once they were married, all else would fall into place.

“Did she say that today? They will be married?”

Mrs. Scott put an arm around Amelia. “Of course they’ll be married.

Believe it or not, Madge’s behavior is not unnatural.

Certainly, she has been more vocal than most brides, but that’s her way.

You worry too much. In fact.” Here, she pulled back, studying Amelia.

“You look thin. What else is bothering you?”

“It’s nothing, Mama.” Amelia smiled. She was not thin.

Many more catastrophes would have to befall her before she’d be considered thin.

But her mother was right about her anxieties.

While she felt closer than ever to finding justice for Miss Rothschild, she did not feel any closer to solving Mr. Cross’s murder.

She tried to tell herself that he would be happy.

After all, it was news of Rose Rothschild that he sent through the curate.

But what of him and his work? She’d never had a priest for a friend before, and she felt as if she’d let him down.

If only she could find a connection between the two, she might bring them both justice.

Suddenly, the drawing room door opened, and Madge greeted Amelia.

Her face was flushed so prettily that it reminded Amelia of the afternoons Madge spent behind the inn, chasing dragonflies.

Amelia was often tasked with watching her, but she never minded the responsibility.

Seeing her auburn curls bounce over her shoulders while attempting something so silly and futile was often the highlight of Amelia’s day.

Most times, Madge convinced her to play also, and Amelia would lose whatever maturity she’d gained, feeling the same age as her sister in a matter of minutes. It was good to be a child.

Her sister looked almost childlike in her happiness now—delighted.

Madge could be herself with Captain Fitz, and he could be likewise with her.

She didn’t need an elaborate wedding gown to make him think she was pretty, nor did she need decorative words to understand how he felt.

It was the same feelings she and Simon shared, a giving of oneself to another without pretense.

The idea made her want to run to Simon and declare her feelings for him.

But they were aware of their feelings for one another.

Even Aunt Tabitha had come to terms with them.

It was now up to them to decide what to do with them.

“Amelia!” Madge declared. “I was looking all over for you.”

“Good afternoon, Madge. Captain Fitz.” Amelia bobbed her head. “I was at Baker Biscuits, placing an order for the wedding breakfast.”

“I’m not sure if you know this, but Lady Tabitha despises factory-baked goods. I overheard her tell Aunt Gert the most important aspect of a pastry is its freshness.” This she said with a deepness and vibrato intended to match Tabitha’s voice.

“Yes, well. Time restraints and all. Is there anything else you need before the … day?” asked Amelia, avoiding the word wedding.

“We don’t require anything.” Madge raised her eyes in Captain Fitz’s direction. “Do we, love?”

“The clothes on our backs would suffice for me.” He chuckled.

Amelia could detect no lingering turmoil or hesitation between the couple, and she was thankful the difficulty had passed. Once they were at the altar, she would be able to release the last of her concerns. Until then, she would remain vigilant.

Her mother, beaming at the couple, appeared to have no such concern.

She believed in her children with her whole heart.

Nothing could dissuade her that they were the most wonderful people in the world.

Everything they did was expected and celebrated.

Amelia sighed. If only she could have the same confidence.

Alas, she did not.

When Captain Fitz joined them for dinner, the long looks and soft whispers between him and Madge increased.

Most of the company felt as her mother did about the interactions: amused and charmed by the young couple.

They were lenient of their indulgences, ignoring them altogether when necessary.

Even Simon, who joined the party, seemed unaffected.

But to Amelia, their activities betrayed a notion she could not put her finger on.

Madge had been upset by her wedding dress.

How could she completely forget her reservations in twenty-four hours?

Madge was temperamental, certainly, but she must also suffer from amnesia to resolve the problem so quickly.

After dinner, Amelia forestalled going into the drawing room with the women, instead asking Uncle Henry for a glass of his sherry.

Uncle Henry blinked innocently. “Why do you ask me, dear niece?”

She leveled a look at him. “Because I was present when Lord Bainbridge told you the address of his favorite liquor establishment.”

He laughed, placing his hands on his stomach. “Quite so. Quite so.”

Then he motioned to Bailey, whom Amelia had made certain would accommodate her family. Apparently, this was one of the accommodations. He reappeared with the sherry and glasses on a tray.

Uncle Henry took the proffered glass and drank it down immediately. “I say, good man. Don’t make yourself scarce just yet.” Bailey poured him a second glass.

Amelia refrained from doing the same. Instead, she took a small sip and said to Captain Fitz, “I am pleased you and my sister are on better terms.”

“I am pleased as well.” The captain took a long drink. “I believe it was the wedding arrangements that had her out of sorts. Once we got those out of the way, she was her happy self again.”

Amelia frowned. She had been the one to toil over the arrangements—she and Tabitha, to be honest. All Madge had to do was show up. But she understood how much Madge disliked formal gatherings. The idea of being the center of attention must have been unbearable to her.

“The dress, to be sure, the company, the breakfast,” Captain Fitz continued. “They were overwhelming. Her wants are few and simple. I’m sure you understand, Lady Amesbury, being her sister.”

“Indeed.” Amelia opted for another sip of sherry, this one longer.

“A second glass, Amelia?” prompted Uncle Henry, only too glad to have a fellow imbiber at his side.

Simon raised his eyebrows at her. He was thinking about their upcoming midnight break-in at Baker Biscuits. She knew he was. “No, thank you, Uncle. The women are waiting for me. It was very good though.”

“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” Uncle Henry winked, and the action transformed his craggy face to one of mirth and happiness. He signaled for a third glass of liquor.

Simon followed her into the hallway. “I understand your hiding the sherry now.”

“I thought you might.”

Simon cast a glance at the dining room door. “He is an old man. What can it hurt?”

“Stay until he takes to the pianoforte, and you’ll find out.” Amelia crossed her arms.

“The drink will be conducive to sleep at the very least.” His green eyes flickered with mischief. “No one will hear you slip down the servants’ staircase and into my carriage.”

Slipping anywhere with Simon sounded heavenly, and Amelia’s shoulders automatically relaxed.

But Baker Biscuits wasn’t just anywhere.

It was a stone’s throw from danger and violence.

She must keep her wits about her if they were to be successful.

Tomorrow was Sunday. They had a single opportunity to uncover the information.

If they didn’t, they’d have to wait an entire week to try again.

“Did Mr. Hamsted tell you he and Kitty are meeting us there?”

“He did. You’ve formed your own merry band of misfits to do your bidding, haven’t you, Amelia?” The words held no malice. They were tinged with excitement and anticipation and, dare she say, admiration?

“You are no misfit, Simon.” She smiled. “You are one person who suits me completely.”

He touched her chin. “And you me.”

The next thirty seconds passed in a stolen kiss that proclaimed everything they hadn’t.

Love, passion, respect. All was conveyed by the warmth of his lips and the pressure of his hand on her back.

He was her freedom and security, and if anyone had told her she could have both, she wouldn’t have believed them until this very moment.

She had never known this feeling. Not with Edgar, not with anyone.

She was drunk on it, desiring another taste of him as a drinker did another taste of spirits.

Knowing that her family and Aunt Tabitha sat only a staircase away, however, forced her to pull back.

Now was not the time for admissions, but someday, and perhaps someday soon, it would be.

“Until tonight.” Simon’s voice was husky, and he held her for a moment longer, his hand snaking around her waist.

She whispered, “Until then.”

He inhaled the scent of her before releasing her. Then she raced up the stairs, counting the steps so as not to fall down, back into his arms.