Page 24 of The Villain’s Fatal Plot (Gravesyde Village Mystery #1)

TWENTY-FOUR: VERITY

As she tried on gowns, Verity decided she’d told Rafe all he needed to know. He had every right to be angry at her for concealing Miss Edgerton’s last words, but he didn’t have any right to her past. Whatever had happened to her father, they couldn’t prove. She might dislike her uncle for his parsimoniousness, but he’d had no reason to harm her father. And he had no particular reason to harm her.

Except... she’d stolen from him. So hiding her identity was necessary and had utterly nothing to do with Miss Edgerton’s death.

Except that painting. . .

The carriage had to be the clue, but she’d been too young to notice carriages or her father’s visitors. He had been a tough businessman. He could easily have made enemies.

Could someone else identify that carriage?

And what good would it do if they did? Which must have been what Miss Edgerton had concluded. She’d drawn a dreadful scene that had haunted her, but there had been no point in telling the grieving adolescent Verity had been back then.

Believing her father may have been murdered... Verity wished she had never seen that painting. Miss Edgerton would have understood that murder might turn her bitter and suspicious. Grief had been hard enough for the protected child she had been.

In a fog of uncertainty, Verity smiled at the lovely blond—rather young—Lavender and her sewing ladies, thanked them for the lovely gowns, and agreed on all their suggestions. The clothes were second-hand, like the ones she’d bought after the fire, but Lavender had a gift for making them stylish. They might not be her mother’s silks, but she’d feel like a lady nonetheless.

Only her stolen hat had been almost new, with fresh lace and ribbons. She described it to the ladies, and they promised to watch out for it. She didn’t tell them the thief had a pistol. Was that bad of her too? She didn’t have a lot of practice in conversing.

In the meantime, Lavender offered her a simple buff muslin bonnet with black ribbons and a small black ruffled edging. Verity thought she might add a little trim to match her new gowns and was grateful to have a hat again, even if it lacked a veil and wasn’t as grandiose as the stolen one.

Now, if only she had good shoes...

A handsome blond lady of about Verity’s age, Clare Huntley stopped in to ask about a gown she was having made up and admired the only slightly faded primrose muslin Verity was trying on. “That color is very fetching. I’m glad you’re coming out of blacks.”

“They were all I had,” Verity admitted. They were all she’d had before the fire, so she’d simply bought more. “I suppose I didn’t feel very colorful.”

“I understand,” the captain’s wife said with feeling. “I lost my mother and sister within a year of each other and not long after losing my father. I didn’t think I’d ever leave mourning either. You should come to dinner when Lavender finishes that one. Minerva says we must discuss schoolrooms and chalkboards.”

“And reading primers,” Verity suggested. “Miss Edgerton’s books are a bit advanced for beginners.” The ancient primers she’d once used to teach with had been in her cellar home. They were gone now. They’d been in tatters anyway.

“Mr. Birdwhistle might help with primers,” Lavender suggested, removing a pin from her mouth to hold up a ruffle. “He is helping me to read and has ordered a few.”

Mrs. Huntley seemed surprised to learn that. Who was Mr. Birdwhistle? Verity wanted to know more of the manor’s inhabitants. She’d never had much opportunity to make friends and had often wondered about the people behind the windows she passed on her trips to the bank.

But if she was a danger to these people...

She simply could not understand how. Or why.

“I’d love that,” was all she knew to answer. She’d never been to a formal dinner. The thought terrified her, but she wanted to live as other people did.

Mrs. Huntley blithely sailed on to the construction in the far corner of the immense gallery. Verity’s home had been comfortably large, but she had never seen the inside of a grand manor. She thought the gallery’s two-story windows and chandeliers indicated this might once have been a ballroom instead of a hive of industrious activity. She’d once dreamed of waltzing around a chamber such as this. Now, she rather approved of the more practical activity. Besides, she couldn’t waltz.

“I promised Sergeant Russell two new shirts to replace the one damaged by ruffians,” she told Lavender as she tugged on her old gown in the dressing room. “Is that possible?”

“New would be easier than making over an old one,” the girl admitted. “He’s rather large and finding anything his size might be difficult. I have Henri looking out for a nice large coat I can make over, but shirts are simple to sew. I just need him to stand still long enough to measure.”

Verity had no notion of where Rafe had wandered off to. He’d merely deposited her here and gone off on his own errands. That was perfectly understandable. She was simply back to feeling like a fish out of water again. She may as well become used to it.

“Where might I find this Mr. Birdwhistle?” she asked once she was dressed in her drab gown again.

Lavender brightened. “I believe he is teaching the boys mathematics by measuring the tower. Let us see how the renovation commences.” She led the way past her sewing ladies toward the corner where lengths of Holland linen hung from ropes to contain the dust. Behind the curtains, stacks of lumber and tools lay scattered about. “This floor of the tower will be Sofia’s perfumery, we hope. We need more flowers and gardens but there is not much profit in them until the perfumery is ready.”

“Miss Edgerton’s yard brims with all sorts of flowers. I am not a gardener, but I’ve read books. I believe flowering plants are produced by seeds and spread by roots, so when it’s time to plant more gardens, you’ll have at least one source.”

“Is there lavender? Sofia thinks we should start with lavender. Since that’s my name, I’m thinking it ought to be on the label.” The little seamstress grinned at her own absurdity.

“Well, if it is a lavender scent, then your name will be on the label, won’t it? Lavender’s Lavender eau de cologne?” Verity studied the activity in the rather dark and gloomy stone tower.

On the far side of the large, circular room, workmen were in the process of removing a wall concealing a stairway. A very tall man with dark hair who resembled Captain Huntley—a French count, Verity thought she’d been told—consulted with a delicate blond lady, their heads bending together in a manner indicating familiarity. After arguing over a piece of paper the lady held, the muscular gentleman in shirtsleeves hauled some of the stones down the stairs, presumably to the cellar.

My word . Verity hoped her eyebrows didn’t reach her hairline. She didn’t often see gentlemen without their coats... She’d no idea how much she had missed while hiding behind books! Would Rafe look like that if he removed his coat ?

“I’ll ask Thea if the boys have gone back to the schoolroom. Come along, you should meet her.” Distracting Verity from her reverie, Lavender made her way across a floor coated in sawdust, holding her hem from the grime. “Thea communes with ghosts.”

With little concern for her worn hem, Verity followed. Ghosts ? And broad-shouldered aristocrats who hauled heavy blocks of stone. What else had she missed while living in a cellar?

Following Lavender, she saw Rafe speaking with construction workers. By the time they reached the blond lady, she was consulting with a fashionably dressed couple in garments much too nice for this filthy workplace. Verity searched faces uneasily, hoping she wouldn’t be imagining any more of her past in these strangers.

Relieved that she recognized no one, she bobbed a curtsy at her introduction to a Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, collectors of fine furniture. All her father’s fine furniture had gone up in flames, so they didn’t hold her interest.

“Mrs. Porter?” The fashionable lady became more animated at the name. “I understand your former governess left some interesting art portfolios. We know a publisher who might be interested. Might we stop by and visit?”

Verity’s disinterest immediately converted to suspicion. “The portfolios are not mine to display or sell. You will need to consult with Miss Edgerton’s solicitor and heirs.”

The lady introduced as Miss Thea Talbot intervened. “I believe Mr. Culliver, her solicitor, is still here. I will introduce you later. Lavender, are you looking for someone?”

Visibly unconcerned with the adults, the young seamstress gestured at the stairs. “Have Mr. Birdwhistle and the boys returned to the schoolroom? We need to ask about schoolbooks.”

“I believe they’ve moved their activities to the next floor. Arnaud says these stairs are not safe for them to use until a stair rail is installed. They’ve opened up the door into the attic, so they’re running up and down.” Miss Talbott turned her attention to Verity. “My little brother might benefit from having a larger circle of playmates. I will gladly help should you choose to set up a schoolroom.”

“I would love to be useful. Might we climb the stairs to see if the tutor is still there?” Verity’s curiosity ate at her. How many people did the manor hold and were all of them this helpful? She hoped they followed through on their promises. She was growing excited by the possibilities—if she were allowed to stay.

“If you cling to the wall, I suppose.” Miss Talbott glanced dubiously at the smooth stones. “I cannot imagine how they’ll add rails.”

The broad gentleman in shirtsleeves returned up the stairs to catch this last. “They’re all hoping to find more pirate treasure in the walls, so they’ll pound all day to cut through stone.” He bowed before Verity. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced?”

He was amazingly handsome, more so than scarred and half-blind Captain Huntley. But even in his graciousness, this gentleman didn’t leave her as breathless as Rafe, who was now taking the dangerous stairs upward two at a time. My goodness, the air in the tower must be affecting her. She feared she was having heart palpitations watching Rafe’s... She dragged her attention back to the company.

Lavender hastily performed the necessary. “Mrs. Verity Porter, Arnaud Lavigne. Arnaud is a French count but says titles are meaningless. Let’s go upstairs. I want to see what they’ve done up there.”

Verity could have lingered longer talking with these fascinating people—and avoiding Rafe—but she obediently followed in Lavender’s wake, aware that they were taking time from her work. She didn’t wish to be a hindrance.

“Pirate’s treasure?” she asked as they climbed, one hand lifting her overlong hem to keep from tripping and leaning on her cane with the other. She didn’t have a spare hand for gripping walls.

“One of the earls was said to be a pirate, but we’ve already found his treasure. He left doubloons in the wall. It’s the last earl who hid the family jewels, or sold them, we don’t know. Stories grow into legends, Mr. Birdwhistle says. I think he came here looking for treasure too. Minerva says he isn’t really a tutor, but she won’t say more.” Lavender reached the top of the stairs and surveyed another scene of construction clutter. “There he is.”

Verity saw Rafe first, talking with the stoop-shouldered Blackwells. Rafe raised his head when she appeared. He still wasn’t smiling at her, and her heart sank. She had come to depend on him too much. She hurriedly glanced to the young man with his students.

The tutor who wasn’t a tutor smiled in delight at Lavender’s call. Verity could certainly understand why. They were two handsome young people, and in any ordinary circumstance, should be courting, she suspected. She wasn’t certain what prospects a tutor and seamstress might have, though.

“This is Mrs. Porter, who is interested in starting a village school.” Lavender made an improper introduction. “She will need primers to go with the other books Miss Edgerton left. And Thea thinks Davey might attend to widen his circle of friends.”

Verity noted that the young boys paid little attention to the conversation. One was using a measuring string on top of a ladder and calling numbers down to the other, who was drawing lines on a large piece of paper. Despite not looking much older than beginning students, they appeared to be working at a more advanced level than she could teach.

Slender, not over tall, the handsome tutor appeared interested. “That might be beneficial for Oliver as well as Davy, for a short time each day. Perhaps I could tutor a more advanced class during those hours?”

Verity thought she must have died and gone to heaven. She had never met so many kind and helpful people in her life. “I would be honored,” was all she knew to say. “We still have a lot of organizing to do, and I’m not certain how to gather the supplies needed. Mr. Upton has offered the chapel until we come up with something better. ”

“The chapel has no chimney. You will freeze in winter. I’ve been thinking about uses for the attic storage.” Mr. Birdwhistle gestured at the area where workmen were repairing a staircase. “Miss Talbot is removing the old furniture. It has windows for light, and I believe they’re opening up a connecting chimney. We should speak to the captain.”

“I’m going back to work. I’ll leave you to schoolrooms. I never want to see the inside of one again.” Lavender abandoned them to return downstairs.

“Your bailiff friend is speaking with the men in charge of the construction. I’ll tell them what we we’re thinking.” Impervious to Lavender’s dismissal, Mr. Birdwhistle offered his arm.

Verity didn’t think the tutor was so very much younger than she. Wouldn’t it be fun to dance around a ballroom on his arm? Well, it would be entertaining to dance anywhere, with anyone, she supposed. She’d missed out on so much...

Rafe was practically glaring at her, so she ignored him and turned her attention to the workmen who had returned to hammering doors. Apparently, they were too busy to talk to a tutor. Or to be polite.

“We’re discussing opening a schoolroom in the attic. Do you think we might disturb the workmen so I may show Mrs. Porter? Once the stairs in the tower are safe, students should be able to use them, shouldn’t they?” Utterly oblivious to Rafe’s glare, the tutor studied the work progressing on the doorway.

“I was discussing inn repairs with the Blackwells,” Rafe grudgingly admitted. “We’ve probably disturbed their work enough. You should look for Arnaud. He appears to be directing the plans.”

Mr. Birdwhistle sighed. “This is the problem with community projects. One must spend a lot of time looking for the right people to do the right thing. I can’t abandon my students, Mrs. Porter. You’ll most likely find Arnaud wherever you find Miss Talbot.” He returned to assisting the boys in their measurements.

Leaving Verity with Rafe .

Stiffly, she informed him, “The furniture couple want to see Miss Edgerton’s portfolio, and I believe the merchant wishing to open the hardware brought Mr. Culliver in to offer for the cottage. I do not know any of them, but they were here when Miss Edgerton died. Should we check Mrs. Prescott’s wardrobe for a black bonnet and old-fashioned skirts?”