A Dreadful Splendor (26)

The servants’ whispers of a curse have grown bolder. They fear it so much, I think they are eager for Father to die. Mrs. Donovan oversaw the conversation between the doctor and me without an ounce of sympathy. I find myself wondering about the soothing teas she brings Father.

William has offered to stay with Father when the need to rest my eyes becomes too great. He has been a dear, so different from that reckless, troublemaking boy I once knew. I overheard Mr. Lockhart saying to Dr. Mayhew that sometimes moments of great stress can bring out the best in a man. I hope this means William is becoming a gentleman, someone whom I can truly rely on. Someone I can trust with my heart.





Chapter Sixteen




I rushed down the grand staircase. The chill was long gone from my bones and replaced with fury. I made my way to Mr. Pemberton’s study and lifted my hand to knock. There was a shift from the other side; I imagined him working at his desk.

“May I be of service?” Mrs. Donovan asked. She slunk out of the shadows as if she was made from the very darkness.

“I believe someone has been in my room and tampering with my belongings,” I said.

Her face remained stoic. “I was in your room earlier, Miss Timmons, and I can assure you I have not tampered with any of your belongings. I placed several gowns in your wardrobe and items in the dresser. Did you find them? I hope they’re to your liking.” She looked down her nose at my dress. “It was my impression that you would be quite eager for a change of clothes.”

An unexpected blush burned my cheeks. Even though a servant, I sensed Mrs. Donovan had the entire household under her control. I worked to keep my voice level. “I would like a key to my room, so I may safeguard my belongings.”

“I’m the person responsible for all the keys of the house,” she replied coolly. “It’s unnecessary for you to have your own. Is there something of value you would like to put in the safe? I’ll ask the lord myself.” Then she stepped in front of me and rapped three quick knocks on the door.

“I have nothing worth stealing,” I told her. “But I would like my belongings to remain untouched. And I would like to lock my door.”

Her unflinching gaze held mine. It was like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Mr. Lockhart promised I would have all my needs met. I shall have a key to lock my room or I will leave tonight.” The last bit was much louder than I intended, but my nerves were raw, and I was close to tears.

The lines in Mrs. Donovan’s face smoothed out. There was a hint of a cruel smile under the veil of servitude, something I had no doubt she had perfected over her many years of running Somerset Park.

The door opened. Mr. Pemberton stood there, glancing back and forth between me and Mrs. Donovan. I automatically dropped my gaze, remembering how awkward I had been the last time we’d spoken. He was wearing riding boots. “Is there a problem?” he asked. The impatient tone was hard to miss.

Mrs. Donovan showed no sign of docile submission. Instead, she raised her chin. “Your guest is demanding a key, my lord,” she said.

I finally looked at him, ready to plead my case. His hair was windblown, and there was a hint of fresh air on him. He fixed his stare on me and waited, but the words seemed to flee from my head. I imagined explaining finding the “help me” message in the ghost book—but he would only accuse me of more parlour tricks. To him, I was simply a fake whom he was blackmailing to service his own goals. What would he care if someone was snooping around my room? I decided to stay quiet.

He looked back at Mrs. Donovan, some exasperation draining from his expression. “Anyone in this house can have their own key if they desire,” he said. “I would think the past has taught us that much. If Miss Timmons wants a key to her room, she shall have one. Kindly fetch it from your office downstairs.”

“Of course, my lord.” Her head did the slightest nod as she reached for the large key ring on her belt. “I, in fact, have it on my person.” Meticulously, she chose a key and unfastened it from the ring. She held it an inch from her nose, inspecting it before passing it to me.

There was the vaguest of tugs from her as I took the key. “Thank you,” I replied.

Ignoring me, she turned to Mr. Pemberton. “Drinks will be served in an hour’s time. I believe Mr. Lockhart is resting. As per Dr. Barnaby’s suggestion, he’ll be having his evening meal in his room.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Has Bramwell told Mrs. Galloway that Dr. Barnaby is staying for dinner as well?”

She nodded dutifully. “All taken care of.”

“That’s fine,” he said, but he had already looked away from her, his attention shifting to me.

Either Mrs. Donovan was used to being treated so abruptly by Mr. Pemberton or she was eager to leave. She soundlessly slipped away like the half snake she was, making her disappearance through the servants’ door that led downstairs to the kitchen.

His eyes quickly glanced over my dress. “When you come down for drinks, Dr. Barnaby will be there. He’s under the same assumption as the rest of the manor, that you’re here to contact Audra and ease my suffering.”

“Have no reservations, my lord, easing your suffering is my paramount goal.”

He gave me a patronizing look, nearly rolling his eyes. Then he lowered his voice and said, “Be aware your every action and choice of word are being examined by those in this house, most of all the servants. I understand you were in the kitchen today. You would do well to keep a more appropriate distance with the staff. I suspect you’re not accustomed to the importance of such etiquette.”