A Dreadful Splendor (29)

“Oh, come now,” the man said. “You make it sound as if you lead a dangerous life and I’m arriving in time to save you.”

“Just that one time.” Mr. Pemberton smiled as the men shared a hearty handshake.

“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said.

Dr. Barnaby was all smiles and bright-eyed interest—a strong contrast to Mr. Pemberton’s critical reaction when he came to collect me. If he was conscious of the fact I was drably put together, his welcoming demeanour hid it well.

I sat with him on the settee, feeling more at ease.

Harry, the young footman I recognized from breakfast, delivered drinks to us on a silver tray. Bubbles sparkled on the surface. It tasted like drinking stars. I had another sip.

Mr. Pemberton stayed beside the fireplace with an amber drink in his hand. “How is Lockhart?” he asked Dr. Barnaby.

The young man’s smile faltered. “The cough worries me,” he said. “I gave him some tonic. I want him to visit a specialist in London, but he is so stubborn.”

“And devoted to this family,” Mr. Pemberton added. There was a solemn tone to his voice.

I took another sip from my glass with a silent mix of guilt and curiosity.

“Is William not joining us?” Dr. Barnaby asked.

Mr. Pemberton sighed. “William’s schedule is not quite in time with a regular manor. He prefers to acquaint himself with a bottle of brandy before every meal.” Then he lifted his own drink and said into the glass, “Or instead of a meal.”

“He looked well-fed the last time I saw him,” I said. I went to take another sip, but my glass was already empty.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Barnaby said, “I believe there was some discussion of him going into town to look at a property.” His voice lifted at the end. I suspected he was lying, or at least stabbing at conversation. I envied Mr. Lockhart having dinner in his room.

“He’s considering alternate accommodation?” I asked. I watched Mr. Pemberton over the rim of the glass as I pretended to take another sip.

“William enjoys relaying the grave injustice of his situation for anyone who will give him a willing ear,” he replied.

Harry caught my eye. I raised my glass in his direction and was promptly served another. I could see Mr. Pemberton’s reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. He was staring at me with an odd expression. Was it confusion or disappointment?

Tension crept up my neck. It was foolish to think I could pass in this company. The toe of my boot peeked from under the skirts.

Dr. Barnaby looked back and forth between me and Mr. Pemberton. He cleared his throat, then said, “This is such fine gin. And you are right to satisfy your thirst, Miss Timmons.” And although his glass still had a mouthful, he held it up to Harry. “It would be a disservice to the fine craftsman who prepared it.” He smiled at me encouragingly. “It’s such an interesting process, how patient and particular the distillers have to be. Think of all the care that went into the very drinks we now hold. We are fortunate to enjoy them while we can.” He took a sip. “Don’t you agree, Pemberton?”

His chivalrous rescue did not go unnoticed by me. The awkwardness eased from my stiff posture.

Mr. Pemberton regarded us with a cautious expression, then said, “I wouldn’t deny anyone the pleasure of a fine cocktail, least of all Miss Timmons.” He stayed by the fireplace with one hand on the mantel and the other holding his drink, which was still half-full.

From the hall, rushed voices made all of us, Harry included, turn to the door. Bramwell arrived with a breathless young man dressed in a long riding coat. There was a satchel over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Bramwell said. “But the lad had special instructions.”

The young man took off his hat and tucked it under his arm as he stepped forward. “My orders were to hand deliver this,” he said. He passed over a wrapped parcel, roughly the size of my ghost book.

Mr. Pemberton took the package and frowned. “There’s no name, only Somerset Park’s address.” He lifted his gaze and looked at the messenger. “You came all the way from London? On horseback?”

“Aye, m’lord.”

Mr. Pemberton nodded to Bramwell and said, “Pay him appropriately and arrange for lodging at the stable for the horse and a bed at the guest cottage.”

A relieved smile graced the young man’s features. “Thank you, m’lord.” He left the room.

Mr. Pemberton placed his drink on the mantel and held my gaze. “I should take this to my study. Anything hand delivered at night can’t be ignored. Forgive my absence.”

Bramwell nodded. “Of course, my lord. I’ll have dinner held.”

“No need. Please don’t let my business delay the meal for my friends.” And with that, Mr. Pemberton disappeared from the room, leaving me with Dr. Barnaby and Harry.





Chapter Nineteen




Lady Audra Linwood

Diary Entry

Somerset Park, January 3, 1852

Dearest,

I can barely get the words down, my hand is shaking so badly. A miracle has happened. Mr. Lockhart has found an heir to Somerset Park!

He is a distant cousin, only a few years older than I. Mr. Lockhart told me that he hails from the north, and is a well-educated man who has taken over his late father’s business of horses and such. I did not get all the details, but the principal reason for my lightness of heart is that he has agreed to come to Somerset Park and meet us.