Page 32 of The Villain’s Fatal Plot (Gravesyde Village Mystery #1)
THIRTY-TWO: VERITY
That evening, Verity studied the inn guest chambers Rafe had attempted to make— habitable . That was the kindest word she could summon.
The bubbled glass in the windows had been scrubbed, revealing all the cracks and holes. The mullions had rotted and the glass threatened to fall out in places. The sills had been soaked where the roof leaked and most likely needed replacing. The lack of any privacy covering, much less one to keep out drafts...
It really wouldn’t do. There weren’t enough hours in the day. The sergeant had tried, but he was accustomed to sleeping rough. Even in her cellar rooms, she’d had more comfort than an empty bedframe and an old quilt. She most certainly couldn’t ask Mrs. Underhill to stay here.
Before she could find Rafe to tell him she’d rather risk arsonists than undress in a naked room, one without so much as a wash basin or chamber pot, she heard someone calling her name from below.
Relieved to hear a friendly, feminine voice, she hurried downstairs. She was using the cane less but her foot protested. She needed to sit down and put it up for a while .
“Miss Peniston,” she said in surprise at finding the busy librarian in the lobby. “How may I help you?”
“Let me count the ways...” The librarian gestured vaguely. “We need you at dinner tonight. We have ideas for the school, but we can do nothing without your agreement. And Arnaud needs your approval of his sketches. And Paul has been asking questions about the day you arrived and we need to discuss theories. It is likely to be a long evening, so you are welcome to stay the night. Oh, and Lavender says your Sunday gown is ready.”
Verity almost took a seat waiting for the petite lady to wind down. “Rafe wants you to lure me to the manor so I won’t return to the cottage?” she asked after the librarian stopped for breath.
“Something like that, most likely, but we really do need you. Hunt and Clare have left with his mother and won’t be back for days. Elsa and Jack are taking advantage of their absence to dine in the privacy of their suite. Arnaud and Thea will only argue without guests forcing them to mind their manners. We’ve asked Rafe as well. You will be doing me a favor.” She looked quite earnest.
Verity’s choices were few. She hated leaving her father’s books but Rafe had locked them in a windowless, dry room. She didn’t think they’d come to harm. “May I bring Marmie? I dislike leaving him alone.”
“Cats like being alone, but it’s your choice. Let’s pack your bags. We don’t know if the thief will come after them next.”
There was an alarming thought, even more alarming than formal dining at the manor with the nobility. Well, as she understood it, the only titled inhabitants, besides a former French count who looked like a penniless artist, were the dowagers who kept a suite to themselves. She tried not to be intimidated by the descendants of nobility.
Later, wearing the exquisite, high-waisted primrose muslin Lavender had trimmed with black ribbons, Verity pulled her second-hand shawl around her at the sound of the dinner bell. She hoped it was a dinner bell. The manor maid who had helped her dress had shooed her out, leastways.
The portly butler directed her to the elegant, high-ceilinged parlor where the family gathered. Feeling self-conscious, she waited until these formally dressed near-strangers were all engaged in argument before entering. But Rafe must have been watching.
Newly pressed, with gold buttons shining, his scarlet uniform coat fit him like a glove. Wearing gleaming white, starched linen, his usual scruff newly shaved, Sgt. Russell looked nothing like the shirt-sleeved man who had cooked for her. Well, except for the carrot-orange curls, and even they had been trimmed and pomaded.
Had her parents lived, she might have learned to be comfortable in formal surroundings. As it was, she longed to turn and flee.
Rafe prevented such cowardice. As if he were accustomed to playing host—of course, he was!—he placed her hand on his arm and led her into the company. “I am trying not to look too hard on your splendiferousness,” he murmured.
“Splendifer-what?” Amused at his nonsense, she allowed herself to relax in his large shadow. “And does the word apply to you as well?”
“Naturally.” He led her to the grouping of people whose names she was learning, although in evening clothes they were imposing strangers.
Before she could greet everyone properly, Henri’s tall, blond wife—who normally wore a leather apron and now appeared bounteously buxom in silk—leaned forward eagerly. “I have polled the apple pickers!”
In formal neckcloth and tailored frockcoat, his dark hair brushed back, looking more noble than a tavern owner should be, Arnaud’s brother, Henri, grinned. “Patience is becoming very brave. Once, she dared not speak to men she did not know.”
“One isn’t supposed to speak to men we don’t know,” Verity had to reply in defense of the lovely young gardener, who swatted her handsome husband with a fan. “How does one poll?”
“I ask if they live in Gravesyde, and if they say yes, I ask if they have children. And if they say yes again, I ask if any are ready for school.”
Taking the seat Rafe offered, Verity accepted a glass of whatever libation the maid served, if only to keep her hand occupied. “And how many potential students did you find?”
“A dozen,” Patience crowed triumphantly.
“I will mention our plans in church tomorrow,” the curate added. “I am sure we will find more. Even if you can only teach the rudiments, the benefit to the village of having inhabitants who can read and cipher will be enormous.”
The anticipation that had led her here returned. Verity had hoped for the aid of her governess, but here were complete strangers willing to stand in Miss Edgerton’s place. She had not had to make so many decisions at once in a long time, and then they hadn’t been so momentous. She didn’t know how to replicate their enthusiasm.
Before she could reply, the Prescotts entered. Several years older than the rest of the company, they appeared distinguished and comfortable with people they scarcely knew. Verity thought she’d like to learn their confidence. She sipped her drink and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the strong sweetness.
The Prescotts glanced at Verity and Rafe in surprise, then took seats next to Miss Talbot.
“Have you determined what pieces are staying and what is to be removed?” Minerva reached for an interesting plate of nibbles and passed it to Verity. “These are crackers,” she explained. “Hunt learned to like them in the army and Elsa has learned to bake them. They’re good with cheese.”
Verity timidly took one, terrified she’d drop crumbs down her cleavage. She’d never exposed so much flesh in her life.
“We’ve made a list.” Mrs. Prescott took a glass but didn’t drink .
“They’ll begin looking for more suitable pieces to replace our old ones. It shouldn’t cost us anything,” Miss Talbot said reassuringly. “The really old medieval pieces that the last earl dumped here should be preserved in castles.”
More comfortable with the younger people than the distinguished older couple, Verity attempted to not be a ghost any longer. “Might there be old, lesser pieces, which will suit the inn? Or a schoolroom?”
“Surely you are not planning on remaining, Mrs. Porter? We thought the cottage quite destroyed.” Mrs. Prescott raised her lovely arched brows.
“We have no intention of letting Verity go,” Patience announced cheerfully. “If we have a dozen students now, just think how many there will be in a few years! We might even need to build a real school.”
That was a startling, almost comforting, thought. Feeling useful apparently gave her courage. “The cottage’s garden is valuable. We are hoping the heirs will rebuild.”
The solicitor, who had been pouring his own drink at the sideboard, returned to hear this. “I have a good offer on the cottage. I doubt the heirs will refuse it. I’m sure Mr. Sullivan will be happy to have you dig up the plants and move them. A hardware store won’t need them.”
Appalled silence briefly enveloped the parlor, until Mrs. Prescott lifted her glass and toasted the room. “Perhaps the heirs will also be amenable to our offer of a substantial sum for the family sketches.”
Verity began to see how a murderer might want to kill someone.