A Dreadful Splendor (24)

I tilted my head and studied her. “There is a particular glow about you, Flora,” I said. “I noticed it earlier in the library. I don’t see it often, but when I do, I know that person has a special guardian angel close to them.”

Flora’s brows lifted and her mouth formed the smallest O.

“I wonder if you might let me do a conjuring with you?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “A private séance.”

Her eyes went wide, taking over her innocent expression. Still, I could sense her eager hope, and would use it to my advantage. Questions were piling up, and no one was giving me the right answers. Flora could be a valuable ally, and I was in desperate need of one. In the greenhouse, Mr. Lockhart had spoken of my future as an afterthought, so flippantly cool. I put my hand to my throat, imagining the rough edge of the noose starting to tighten.

“I suppose so,” Flora said hesitantly, but I could tell this was exactly what she’d come looking for. “If you think it’s safe, miss.”

“My name is Genevieve, but you can call me Jenny if you like. All my friends do.” Although I’d never liked the pet name Miss Crane had given me, I suspected Flora would be more likely to consider me a confidant if I insisted we drop the formalities between us.

She nodded. A soft rose bloomed in her cheeks. “What do the ghosts say?” she asked. “What do they think about?”

I smiled. Flora wanted something I could give her. “Ghosts usually stay with those they were closest to in life,” I said.

“And do ghosts know things . . . like people’s secrets?”

“I believe they tell me what they perceive to be true.” I found Flora’s particular question interesting.

But as Maman used to say, grief never leaves the soul.

Footsteps came from the open area below, followed by the soft jingle of keys. Mrs. Donovan crossed the foyer with her usual straight posture and soldier-like gait. She glided in her black dress like an omen. “Come,” I said to Flora, letting her into my room and quickly shutting the door.

I removed my gloves and untied the ribbon of my bonnet. “Let me gather my items,” I said. The ghost book was still on my bed. Opening my bag, I took out one candle and one chimney and placed them on the vanity in front of the mirror.

Flora went directly to the fireplace and tidied.

I casually asked, “How long have you worked here?”

“Three years now,” she said. “They needed an extra laundress, but then Mrs. Galloway was kind enough to take me on to help in the kitchen.”

“So you worked here when Lady Audra was alive.”

Her face lit up. “She was lovely and so kind too.”

“I see,” I said, recalling my earlier assumption of the spoiled girl. “Lord Chadwick told me the family has a history of unfortunate deaths.”

She stayed quiet, but I suspected she knew something.

“What do you think happened that night?” I asked.

Flora frowned like a battle was waging inside her. She tucked the duster into her apron pocket. When she spoke, her voice was hardly above a sigh. “Just like her father, and his father before him. The doctor said it was an illness, but it was more like a curse.”

“What makes you say the family is cursed?”

“Not just the family—Somerset itself! Me aunt says Audra’s great-grandfather built it with stolen money. I don’t know much about him, but I can tells ya it all started with his son, Audra’s grandfather.”

“The one whose portrait is in the library,” I confirmed.

She nodded and marked herself with the sign of the cross. “Ever since he leapt off the cliff all those years ago, nothin’ but misery has fallen on this family.”

I heard a faint scratching from the wardrobe. Evening, Mr. Mouse, I thought. Flora didn’t seem to hear, or perhaps she was used to the sounds the mice make in the walls at Somerset.

She moved about, lighting the candles on the bedside table, then the sconces on the mantel.

“What’s London like?” she asked. The change of subject caught me off guard. “It must be a frolic goin’ to all them shows and fancy restaurants.”

“I don’t know that side of London,” I answered truthfully. “What about Somerset Park? I imagine there have been some lovely parties.”

Her expression changed completely. “There was a ball planned, in celebration of Lady Audra’s upcoming wedding. They practically invited everyone in Wrendale. Maisie, me best friend, and I, we were so excited, we even had special dresses for the occasion.” Sadness lingered in her voice.

The scratching sound came again. I was getting tired of the interruption. I slipped off my boot and went to the wardrobe. I opened the door, ready to pounce. “Goodness,” I breathed.

No longer empty, the wardrobe contained at least half a dozen dresses, a pair of black shoes, and even a smart black cape with gold piping. They were simple and elegant, a perfect disguise for someone like me to appear she belonged here. My eyes found a black gown with lace on the cuffs and red satin underneath. It would make even the most stylish of Miss Crane’s girls look like oyster mongers in comparison.

I lifted a sleeve and rubbed the fine material between my fingers. It was lovelier than anything I had ever worn. But there must have been more buttons on this garment than stars in the sky. How was a young woman supposed to get herself into such a frock? I let out an embarrassed laugh, knowing I’d never be able to convince anyone I was a proper lady simply by putting on a new dress.