Page 15 of To Heal a Broken Earl (The Rakes of Mayhem #7)

“Stanhope pointed out the door to the attic, and I was hoping I could find time, later today, perhaps, to explore it. I would be interested in finding some of the original fabrics used in the house, and perhaps even original drawings of the house. Some of those fabrics, I think, are still hanging on windows, and I like them. I thought it might be useful, and you might favor the colors and fabrics. It would save on expenses—even though you’ve indicated there is plenty of money to work with, I like to economize where I can. ”

Michael smiled, feeling a real sense of relief.

“That’s a fine idea, and I agree to your request. For now, I’d like to finish walking through some of the rooms that need attention, so you can think of the order of their transition.

” He glanced at the clock on the mantel.

“I am expecting a messenger, but should have time later today to take a look in the attic.”

~*~

Chapter Nine

Later that afternoon

“Auntie, can Finn and me play with that stack of hats in the corner?” Katie asked, with the dog thumping his tail next to her in the attic.

“Finn and I ,” Emma said. She didn’t correct her niece’s grammar too often—Katie was a bright child, but sometimes in her excitement, she forgot.

Emma looked at Michael, who nodded in agreement.

“I think it should be fine, sweetie. Just remember to shake the dust off the hat before putting it on your head or Finn’s.

Dust can make you sneeze, and then you’d need another bath. ” She winked at her niece.

“Oh, not another bath. I’m clean !” Katie said.

“Well, be just as careful with Finn, or we’ll have to bathe him again, too.”

Finn seemed to make his objection known by getting down on his back legs and covering his eyes with his front paws, making them laugh.

“We’ll be careful, won’t we, Finn?” Katie looked at the dog, who gave a soft woof. “See, Auntie? He will be careful, too. I’ll be extra careful to shake the hats. I’ll even shake my hair after, and Finn will do the same. Right, Finn?”

Finn gave another woof.

“Well then, that should be fine,” Emma said. “We’ll be just over there, by the window, sorting through the trunks and the furniture.”

As she and Michael made their way to the other side of the large attic, Emma looked over her shoulder and noticed that Katie was, indeed, shaking the hats.

She bit her lip to keep from chuckling out loud.

She didn’t want to wash Katie’s hair again today.

Yesterday, Katie and Finn had been playing in the garden while Doris watched over them.

Katie came back into the house with a head full of yellow pollen from whatever flowers she had been playing in, which required a head-to-toe bath.

Even Finn required an additional cleaning.

“Why don’t we start with this?” Michael suggested, opening the lid of a large, domed trunk.

“Oh my, what a treasure trove,” Emma said, eyeing the many items wrapped carefully inside in thin muslin and tied with silk ribbon that had faded over time.

“I can ask one of the maids to do it for you if it’s too much,” Michael said.

“Don’t you dare,” Emma said in a mock-angry tone. “And take away my fun?” She gave him a cheeky smile.

Michael chuckled. “Well then, let’s go through some of this. If we find more than a few things we can use, I’ll ask several of the lads to carry everything outside so it can be properly cleaned and washed.”

“Good idea. Oh my! Look at this lovely gilt-bronze mantel clock,” Emma said, pulling back some tissue paper covering the clock.

“I could be mistaken, but I think that’s an Ormolu clock. I recall seeing one at my grandfather’s home when I was younger,” Michael said.

Emma turned to him. “Do you think this could be the same clock? It was packed with special care. Do you think it could have a special meaning, perhaps a wedding present?”

“I don’t know. They might have had several throughout their estates. But that’s an interesting idea,” Michael said as he unwrapped some matching candlesticks. “These must have been gifts—perhaps a birthday or another special occasion—to be packed so carefully.”

“Those would look lovely over the mantel in the parlor,” Emma said, fingering the finish on the clock. “What an amazing find.” She couldn’t wait to see what else the trunk held and carefully moved the clock aside before picking up another package.

This one felt light and delicate. When she finally removed the first layer of paper, she realized it was two glasses.

“These could be from a very special occasion—maybe a wedding!” exclaimed Emma, delicately unwrapping the tissue from two fluted champagne glasses, engraved with Michael’s family crest. “And they’re signed by Baccarat. ”

“I’m familiar with Baccarat from my time in France.

They do beautiful work, although I had no reason to purchase any,” Michael said.

“These probably belonged to my grandfather and grandmother. He never remarried after she died. Uncle Robert told my sister it was a love match—something rather unusual in ton marriages. I never gave it much thought, but perhaps this is the evidence of their love union.”

Emma gazed up at him and smiled. “We may have found their silverware,” she said, holding up a spoon, also with the family crest on it.

“One day, I’d like to travel to France,” she said longingly, re-placing the fluted glasses in the corner of the trunk.

“Look. There’s more.” She picked up a wooden box and opened it.

“This contains cutlery and silverware. I believe your grandmother may have packed this trunk. Several things in here are the types of things a mother would pass down to her daughter.”

“My mother,” Michael said solemnly. “She married a vicar, and my grandfather cut off communication with her. By the time he found my sister and me, Grandmama had died.”

“That’s so sad,” Emma said, carefully closing the trunk. She turned to him. “What about that large one over there?” she asked, pointing to a brass-and-black trunk behind the one they had just investigated. He nodded, and they opened it.

Emma unwrapped a package of artfully folded tissue paper that had been meticulously arranged to protect an exquisitely folded bridal veil.

“This must have belonged to the lady of the manor. It’s lovely, and such an unusual thing to find.

Many brides in my grandmother’s and mother’s days didn’t wear veils on their wedding day.

” She held the veil up to the light, lovingly fingering the fine muslin.

“Do you see the flower petals that are embroidered on it? The embroidery is so delicate and well-made.”

Michael cleared his throat. “I’m unfamiliar with bridal attire, but it is a lovely veil,” he said wryly.

“Nor am I,” she responded. “The only wedding I ever attended was my sister’s, and it was a tiny ceremony.

” Emma carefully re-wrapped the veil and set it aside as she combed through a box of handkerchiefs, a beautiful silver cake server, a small bundle of letters wrapped in ribbon, dried flowers, and various other items in the trunk.

“So many sweet keepsakes,” she said as she closed the lid with a wistful exhale.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she had hoped to find the wedding gown that went with the veil.

And when she didn’t, she felt disappointed about refolding the veil and tucking it back into the tissue paper, as if relegating it to a prison of timeless indifference.

She had never seen anything so lovely and wondered what the dress had looked like.

Perhaps it had been given to another family member who hadn’t needed the veil.

To her eye, the fabric showed no evidence of deterioration, thanks to the careful packing in the trunk and the lavender sachets that kept the moths away.

The only veils Emma recalled were drawings in clothing pattern books or descriptions in some of the novels she had read. Her father’s older sister, Aunt Zelda, had tutted when she asked about Evie wearing one for her wedding.

“It’s a lovely concept, and would look beautiful on you or Evie, but it’s generally not done, Emmie. We don’t want to draw negative attention to ourselves by being overly ostentatious,” her aunt had told her. “I certainly didn’t use one, and nor did your mother or anyone I can think of.”

While she acknowledged her aunt’s concerns, Emma saw the aristocracy as the epitome of extravagance, based on one of the few occasions she’d attended a ball.

She also judged, given the substantial number of hats Katie had been playing with, that the former lady of the manor might have felt similarly.

They were dusty and piled in the corner of the attic.

Yet, she thought, the veil had been lovingly and carefully packed away.

She blinked back a tear at the thought and hoped Michael had not seen it.

Beneath opulent chandeliers and polished marble floors, women of the ton paraded in extravagant attire.

Massive hats embellished with gaudy ostrich feathers—feathers that the birds themselves would have preferred to keep—adorned their heads, bobbing into pedestrians’ faces as the women sauntered through shops.

And she couldn’t begin to describe the fox pelts.

Emma was firmly against hunting and couldn’t stand looking at anyone wearing a pelt unless it was someone who genuinely needed the animal to fend off starvation to survive.

She couldn’t understand the reluctance about wearing a veil, especially a veil as lovely as this one. And she couldn’t help the way the veil seemed to call to her, even though she knew she would soon be considered firmly on the shelf.

“What about that trunk?” Emma asked, pointing to a large brown trunk against a far wall.

She watched as Michael limped over to it. “It’s got a lock on it,” he said. “But curiously, the key is still inserted in the lock.”