Chapter Twenty-Seven
W hen Verda woke the next morning, the chamber was decidedly, and sadly, void of Sander. Well, not completely empty.
Lizzie bustled about. Most notably gathering the variety of Verda’s under garments over her arm. She laid them aside and picked up Verda’s dress that lay over the back of the settee. “You should have woken me last night, miss—”
Blazing heat seared Verda’s face at the activities that had transpired. She sent up a silent prayer for the miracle that Lizzie hadn’t woken last night. “ What ?”
Lizzie shook out the gray wool, held it up, studying the front and frowning. “To help with your gown. What are all these snags in your frock? I vow, the buttons are decidedly loose…” Her voice trailed and her narrowed eyes surveyed the chamber that started in Verda’s direction and ended at something hanging from the hearth.
Oh, dear.
The dress was thrown over Lizzie’s arm as she marched to the dried cloth hanging there. It was too much.
Verda threw herself back, yanking the coverlets over her head.
“Is this blood ?” Silence followed this denouncement, then, “Miss?” Her voice sounded much closer than it should have been.
With a defeated sigh, Verda peered over the edge of the bedclothes. “Yes. All right? I’m nine and twenty. I will not be chastised by my maid.”
“Chastised.” Astonishment etched her elfin features. “I-I never—” Her mobcap wobbled precariously with the vigorous shake of her head. “I’m envious , miss.”
Verda bolted upright. “Envious?”
“Oh, yes.” Lizzie nodded and the mobcap slid over her eyes. She shoved it back. “It’s been clear to me all along how besotted Mr. Oshea is.”
“Besotted,” Verda parroted. “I… He’s… I…” He wasn’t besotted. He’d as much said he would marry her because he’d ruined her. He was a second son and she a baron’s daughter. To society, such a match was entirely acceptable. “Besotted?” she said again. Well, she had agreed to marry the man. He really was tenacious.
“He’s most dashing.”
Verda groaned, then shook her head. She threw back the covers and crawled from her nice, warm bed. Right now was not the time to ruminate on that particular issue. “Help me dress, then inform the children they are to break their fast in the morning room.” Verda didn’t doubt all conversation in the castle would revolve around Mr. Colbert’s dead body. It was best to speak of it openly. “That goes for Olive, Miss Bash, and Master Julius as well,” she added brashly.” Speculation elevated fear, paranoia, and dark conjectures and she had every intention of nipping cabals before they could sprout wings and fly. “I want you there too.” There was already too much rumination going about regarding ‘the current haunting of Stonemare.’ Hmm. What an enticing title for a horrid novel.
“Me?” Lizzie asked, startled.
“Yes. And, I’ll wear the dark-green wool today.”
Lizzie muttered something incoherent.
“Pardon?”
“I said, you’ll never land the man with the wardrobe you packed.”
“I can dress myself, you know. You could be removed to the servants’ quarters with the other maids.” Verda hid a grin. “We are not attending a country house party. I’m here as a governess. The dress, please.” She went to the escritoire and drafted a note to Mrs. Knagg informing her of Verda’s unusual plans for breakfast that included all of the castle’s occupants.
“Deliver this to Mrs. Knagg, Lizzie. If she balks, you may tell her, I am quite firm in my decision.”
An hour later, Verda entered the morning room to a cacophony of chatter. With a sharp clap of her hands, the air cleared of excessive noise. “Thank you.” She slipped off a shawl and draped it over the back of the chair between Noah holding Julius—and Lord Perlsea, who wore his brood like a well-worn cloak—then sat.
Miss Docia strode in with Olive on her heels and took the seat across… as elegantly as a queen, of course.
Fletcher and his counterpart were filling water glasses and setting them at each place at the table, which had been set for the entire household. A flock of nervous birds had taken residence in Verda’s stomach. She couldn’t imagine the earl’s reaction when and if he appeared. She rather thought Sander might be highly amused by her outrageous edict.
A harried and worried Maura appeared, but the nursemaid caught sight of Julius and her lips compressed as if constraining a scold for Noah.
Verda narrowed her gaze, then turned to him. “Master Noah, did you happen to inform Miss Bash you’d absconded with Master Julius?”
“He was crying and she wasn’t in the room.” His sulky tone said much.
“Young sir,” she said sharply. “Miss Bash is Master Julius’s caretaker.”
His mouth opened.
She held up her hand, palm out, staying any refute. “No, Master Noah. I cannot stress how important it is for Miss Bash to know where your brother is at all times. I’m not saying you can’t take him with you. But henceforth, you will inform her when you do. Am I clear on this?”
The boy’s bottom lip pulled out in his stubborn mulishness he’d affected as well as his brother had with his brooding.
“Master Noah?” she said again, knowing every eye in the dining chamber rested on the two of them. “Am. I. Clear?”
His eyes fell away first. “Yes, ma’am.”
A collective breath seemed to release from those around her. She’d won this round.
Lizzie rushed in and went to stand by the windows next to Olive. Also there was Mrs. Knagg and the four house maids. Mr. Winfield and the only two footmen, Fletcher and—one other, she failed at remembering his name—moved to a set of doors that led to a terrace.
“Lizzie, you and Olive may take a seat at the table.”
Unified gasps hit Verda from all sides.
“Please,” she added.
Both lady’s maids made their timid way over as if they feared vipers coiled in the chairs they took.
Sander strolled in. “Did I miss a notice?”
Lizzie’s face turned as scarlet as Verda was certain hers had.
“You’ve a standing invitation,” she told Sander, taking her serviette and placing it across her lap since using it to cover her face would be worse and infinitely more noticeable.
“Well, hell.” Lord Pender stood in the door. “We’re eating with the servants now?”
Olive and Lizzie started to rise and Verda pierced them with a frown. “You are today, my lord. Take your seats, everyone. You, as well, Lord Pender.”
With an insolent glare, and to her surprise, he took his normal chair at the head of the table, at the opposite end from Sander, without further protest.
“Brava, Miss Fairclough,” Sander said, where indeed, amusement glittered in his eyes. “Coffee and tea for all, Winfield, Mrs. Knagg. Er, milk for Julius,” he corrected, then he aimed a knowing smile in her direction. “Now, what is the meeting of this intriguing rendezvous?”
Verda let out her own breath. “We all wish to know the particulars regarding Mr. Colbert.”
Sander’s grin disappeared. “There are children present, Miss Fairclough.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if unsure she comprehended the language.
The grin reappeared—on the earl’s face—and he lazed back against his chair. As if settling in for a show at Vauxhall.
That he didn’t rub his hands together was a great surprise.
Docia’s gaze flicked to Olive rising out of her chair, but Lizzie patted her hand and whispered something to her and she lowered back down. Docia’s attention moved to Lord Pender. “What killed him?” Sometimes, Verda failed to appreciate the girl’s forthrightness.
The earl looked as if he’d been whapped on the head.
Verda snuck a glance at Sander. His jaw appeared tight enough to crack.
“Perhaps that’s a question for Sander, my dear,” Lord Pender said. “He’s the one with experience when it comes to dead bodies.”
Annoyance nearly choked Verda. “That’s enough, my lord. Mr. Oshea did not murder his father and I would appreciate you not teasing him as if that were the case.”
Master Noah leaned forward until Julius’s bum hit the tabletop. Glasses teetered and Verda quickly righted the two nearest ones. Three others, however, toppled.
She stole another glance—Sander’s mouth hung open.
Noah patted Julius on the back. “Is that true, Uncle Sander? You murdered Grandfather?”
“That goes for you as well, Master Noah. It is certainly not true and I’ll hear no more about it.,” she said sharply.
He promptly sat back. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lord Pender did not help matters. Not with that gleam of mirth he exuded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lord Perlsea’s arms were crossed and his chin touched his chest. He had that brooding bit down, but Verda wanted to hug him. He raised his head and glared at his father. “I believe Father did the deed.” They were the first words out of his mouth since learning of Mr. Colbert’s unfortunate fate and being forced to remain home instead of accompanying the men to the parish constable, as he believed his due as heir apparent.
Thrilled as Verda was to hear him finally speak, she admonished him. “I said, that’s enough, Lord Pender, please. I would have you reassure the children.”
With a disdainful sniff, he said, “It’s true. My brother did not murder our sire. He died of exposure on the moors.”
Her gaze moved around the table. “There. You see?”
“It’s why the moors are haunted,” he added.
“Oh, for the sake of the dev—” Sander’s impatience had gotten the better of him. “Damien, quit provoking my betrothed. Or we’ll be here… for…”
The blaring silence was drowned out by the roaring in Verda’s ears while every pair of eyes bore holes through her.
Perhaps she would be the one committing an unlawful death, she thought as the cacophony she’d effectively quelled earlier, exploded into a barrage of unanswerable demands for explanations.
“I knew it!” Noah wriggled in his chair and Julius’s chubby legs kicked out, his toothless coos filling the air.
“Is it true?” Docia demanded, sounding as if it peeved her that her nuptials would not occur before Verda’s.
Lord Pender’s expression was something entirely different. “Interesting,” he said in that sardonic way he had. “I thought the two of you already wed.”
Shock held Verda immobile, an icy black fury edging her vision. How dare Sander make such an announcement without her… her… Heavens . She closed her eyes to garner her control, took in a deep breath through her nose, opened her eyes, and forced herself to meet his gaze head on.
The astonishment in his expression was enough to realize his words had not been intentional and softened her insides slightly.
She held up her hand to subdue the intemperate disorder. A minute later, the crowd quietened, where soon silence once more reigned. “I believe Mr. Oshea has spoken out of turn,” she said, stunned she could sound so calm. “We are here to learn of past incidences as much as we are for present ones and I am not referring to Mr. Oshea’s unexpected announcement.” She turned a pointed look at the earl then shifted to Sander. “We should like an accounting of Mr. Colbert’s circumstances. At least as much as you can tell us.”
“As much as I disagree with relaying such information with children present, I will honor Miss Fairclough’s request.” Sander proceeded to relay the facts, much as he had the night before, with the earl throwing in an inappropriate remark here and there that Verda allowed to pass. The important thing to her was everyone having the same information.
The meal passed in a tolerable silence with utensils clinking against china and Julius being passed from person to person so Verda, Noah, Olive, Miss Bash, and even Lord Perlsea taking a turn, could eat in relative peace.
Eventually, Verda stood putting them out of their misery and announced lessons would begin in ten minutes amongst a series of relieved sighs and groans.