Page 27 of The Tart’s Final Noel (Gravesyde Village Mysteries #3)

Twenty-four

Verity

“Rafe believes Mr. Elton broke into the parsonage, since the thief used the same method to steal from his cash box. Mr. Parsons says he slept through the robbery, but he has no witnesses until Rafe checked on him at noon. We can’t know Elton is the killer, but the men.

. .” Trying to explain to Verity, Brydie shrugged.

“They’re behaving as if this is war and have turned all medieval on us. They’ll be building drawbridges next.”

“I am glad of the company, for whatever reason,” Verity admitted. “I love children but I miss adult conversation. Mr. Birdwhistle is pleasant, but he has two excessively active boys to mind, plus Rob and Daniel. That’s more than a handful and doesn’t leave him time to converse.”

“Rob hasn’t been naughty, has he?” Brydie sounded appalled, as if little boys never misbehaved. Sitting at one of the school desks, she was showing her niece how to embroider a stitch for her quilt edging.

“They’re building forts.” Lynly spoke up cheerfully. Despite the difference in ages, she was nearly as small as her fairy-blond companion. “They put me and Daphne in the dungeon.”

The solemn five-year-old, her hair in beribboned pigtails, looked up at the sound of her name and nodded with a cherubic smile, indicating she enjoyed the game. That small smile nearly broke Verity’s soft heart. The children were adapting.

“The Reid heirs have created a maze of the furniture,” Verity murmured. “I suspect the attic may now contain as many snares and pitfalls as any medieval castle. They do not trust locks and have taken it into their heads that it is their duty to protect the weak.”

“Meaning you and Daphne?” Brydie asked in amusement. “That’s thoughtful. Did they learn that from the men? They start young, if so. Although if I remember correctly, as heirs to a few fortunes, the boys are in more danger than us.”

Verity wrinkled her nose. “I would disabuse them of their beliefs that women are weak, but it keeps them occupied. I am beginning to understand that males need goals and targets to direct all their energy.”

Brydie appeared to digest that observation. Having spent half her life quietly watching, Verity thought her friend needed to apply that understanding to Damien so she did not stand—or gallop into—his path.

“Will you and Damien be eating dinner downstairs tonight?” she asked, changing the subject.

Brydie glanced down at her woolen gown. “Lavender has promised that she can make over the bodice of one of Patience’s dinner gowns to fit me, but I lack finery and finesse. I would be more comfortable here with you.”

“You cannot uncover evildoers while lurking up here. Do you know what color the gown is? Rafe packed a trunk for me, but I can’t leave the children unattended. Paul and the blacksmith are still working on the locks.” Verity rose from the desk where she’d been scribbling lesson plans.

Wearing a dubious expression, Brydie pushed out of her too-small chair. “Lynly, will you be all right here for a little bit?”

“Oliver and Davey are hiding in the wardrobes.” Lynly nodded at two massive cabinets guarding the tower entrance. “We are princesses in the tower.”

“And where are Rob and Daniel?” Verity asked, knowing she’d left all four boys with Mr. Birdwhistle.

“They are planning an attack on the castle. We are to be rescued before dinner.” Lynly shook out her almost-finished quilt.

Smothering a grin, Verity steered her reluctant friend from the chilly schoolroom toward the warmer interior. “Come along. You’ll turn blue if we don’t get you somewhere warm. Lynly is wearing mittens and coat. You aren’t.”

“Who thought to cut the ends off her mittens so she could sew? You?” Brydie stopped to study the layout of the narrow hall between the stairs and the new schoolroom, before taking the wide corridor down the middle of the attic.

Through the open door of the old schoolroom, they could see Mr. Birdwhistle drawing at an easel, from which position he supposedly kept track of his charges.

“They are old mittens we found in one of the trunks, already moth-eaten. I know the two of you have thin skin and need extra warmth. I will watch over Lynly, Brydie, I promise. You need to help Rafe catch a killer so those poor orphans can be safe and happy again.” Verity led her into the small cubicle she’d claimed as her own.

She hoped Rafe might join her here tonight, but he was busy wearing himself ragged setting up protection for the entire manor.

Seeing Rafe’s wolfhound emerging from the maze of trunks and furniture the boys had created of the storage area, Verity snapped her fingers and set Wolfie to guard the new schoolroom. The patient dog allowed a head scratch before settling in front of the door.

“I heard the captain’s hounds earlier. Did Rafe set them loose?” Brydie peered into the miniature nursery Verity had set up for the orphans.

“They’re not as well trained as Wolfie, but he’s taught several of the former soldiers how to walk them around the grounds.

Hunt says he can justify paying the soldiers from the trust if he calls them grounds men.

The earl apparently left a very large trust for maintaining the manor, if not its inhabitants. ”

“Has the family questioned the servants about your intruder yet?” Brydie rubbed her hands and studied her surroundings nervously. She seldom visited the manor.

Verity could appreciate her friend’s discomfort, but Brydie was a squire’s daughter and about to marry—someday—a respected solicitor. She needed to learn she was not just a farm girl.

“The ladies are making lists of all the servants and checking it twice. The manor has any number of guests for the holiday, and their servants are all strangers to Rafe. That’s why we’re locked up here.” Verity opened her trunk and rummaged. “Color?”

“Green. Rafe is quite confident the soldiers aren’t dangerous?” Brydie peered over her shoulder.

“They drink too much. They aren’t always reliable.

But they’re loyal to the captain, Rafe says.

Patrolling, they know how to do, but it won’t help if the killer is among the guests or their servants.

For them, we have Mrs. Upton, Paul, and Minerva snooping.

” Verity understood that, knew she was the last line of defense, and prayed her friends would root out the villain before he tried again.

Once upon a time, she would have found it impossible to believe that fashionably dressed society contained killers. She had since been disabused of such innocence.

Brydie offered a sigh of awe at the jewel-toned Kashmir shawl Verity produced from her trunk.

“My mother once wore gorgeous pieces like this, when I was very young. Kate and I did not appreciate them until too late, after the moths and old age destroyed them. It’s not as if we wear silk to feed the chickens. ”

“Meera gave me that one. You should see her collection! But the colors are much too vivid for me and lovely with your auburn hair.” Verity handed over the shawl and rummaged for her jewelry box.

“I lived in a cellar and had no chickens to feed, so I wore my mother’s gowns.

I spent years adapting her wardrobe to suit me and fashion.

In a way, it allowed me to feel closer to her.

I lost most of it in the fire, but I’d hidden some of her jewelry and finery with my books thinking I’d one day run away. ”

“You’re the lady and should be the one going to dinner.” Brydie swung the shawl around her shoulders and admired the fringe. “Kate and I tried to keep a formal table after mother died, but father wasn’t interested. We were young and gave it up.”

“He was the local squire, wasn’t he?” Opening her jewel box, Verity found a choker of seed pearls and showed them to Brydie.

“You have every right to sit with gentry. My father was merely a sea captain. My mother was gentry and aspired for me, but she died, and I was never presented to society. These days, I’d far rather be with the children and Rafe. ”

“There may be dukes and earls at the table,” Brydie whispered in horror, admiring the pearls but not touching them. “Look at my hands.” She held out fingers red and roughened from hard work. “I won’t be able to take off my gloves.”

“Then leave them on, if you wish. Tell everyone you’re subject to chilblains, which is the honest truth. Arm yourself and catch a killer.” She shoved the pearls at Brydie. “I’m relying on you.”

“My suit of armor.” Reluctantly, Brydie accepted the necklace.

“I need to go down for a fitting. Kate’s doing most of the sewing.

I’ll send her up here to keep you company when she’s done.

She says she’s still in mourning and has no escort and would rather be with Rob and Lynly.

You have time to change your mind. If Kate’s here, you could go down with Rafe. ”

Verity shook her head vehemently. “I am an innkeeper’s wife now. But there might be interesting single men down there for Kate. How long has it been since her husband died?”

“Just before last Christmas. It’s been over a year, but she’s.

. . shy of men. Just having her here at the manor where she can watch gentlemen come and go, while she’s surrounded by Lavender’s sewing ladies, is helping.

She’s spent far too long alone on the farm, with only me and the children for company. Once I’m wed, I’ll work on her.”

Brydie left, holding her treasures as if they were real jewels.

Rafe arrived a little later and hugged Verity, offering her the strength she needed.

He’d brought Arthur with him. “The boy says he’d rather eat in the schoolroom than downstairs.

And he can take Wolfie outside and feed him,” he murmured while the younger boys crowded around Kate’s eldest son, sweeping him away to excitedly point out their castle’s traps.

Verity showed Rafe the newly installed locks. “Arthur is good with the boys. But if he’s off to school in a few weeks, he ought to be downstairs, gaining a little polish.”

Following the boys, Rafe peered into the dark storage area next to her closet room. “Kate did a good job with him. And he’s a fast learner. Damien’s teaching him how to use a sword and fists. It can’t hurt to have one more layer of protection up here.”

“You really believe Daniel’s bad man is in the manor?” Verity whispered, keeping an eye on the boys as they balanced an ugly marble bust in the seat of a rocking chair on top of a three-legged washstand.

“Elton may have come to Gravesyde with kidnapping in mind, but whoever broke into the parsonage was most likely after the birth records Upton asked the Stratford curate to send. Fortunately, they haven’t arrived yet.

Whether Elton knew about those remains to be seen, but it does appear the parsonage thief would need to read. ” Rafe hugged her reassuringly.

Which did limit them to mostly gentry.

Verity buried her face in his shoulder and drank in his masculine scent, before straightening her spine and pushing away. “Catch the scoundrels so we may have the merriest Christmas anyone has ever known.”

“That’s my ferocious Verity.” He kissed her again and strode off, every bit the confident soldier she loved and adored.

Rafe would go after killers and thieves with fists and swords.

Verity suspected the boys had a better notion—defeat the sneaky snakes with deviousness.