A Dreadful Splendor (31)

Dr. Barnaby used his napkin. “He’s needed here more, obviously.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Many people rely on Somerset Park to stay operational, and there is no one else trustworthy to run this estate.”

There was the smallest movement from Bramwell’s eye. A twitch, perhaps.

“Are you employed by Somerset Park as well?” I asked Dr. Barnaby. I had never been to a doctor in my entire life. Maman believed in home remedies.

“No, at least not in the way you imply. I’m the doctor in Wrendale, but it’s close enough to Somerset that I’m able to come here whenever needed.” A flicker of something like remorse flashed across his eyes.

“Did you follow Mr. Pem—I mean, Lord Chadwick here from the north?” I asked, wondering how they could be such good friends when they seemed so opposite.

“Not exactly.” He took a sip of wine. “I came to visit when he and Audra were officially engaged.” His faced seemed fixed in a sad smile. “I toured Somerset Park and Wrendale, and I fell in love. I knew this was where my future lay.”

He put a small piece of pheasant on his fork and added a dollop of cream sauce with the tip of his knife. “It’s such a tragedy,” he said. “I don’t know how Pemberton copes. He hides it so well.” There was an interesting hitch in his tone. “They were a perfect match, even in their looks, so similar.”

There was a distant vagueness in his expression, as if he were watching a memory played on the wall behind me. “All of Wrendale felt the loss,” he said. “Especially since it was so close to the other girl’s death. It was such a miserable time. It still clings to everything in this house.” He studied me, then asked, “Can’t you feel it? You’re much more sensitive than the rest of us, so you’d have more of a connection, I suppose.”

I felt a curious sense of caution, unsure how to reply. “I feel nothing unexpected,” I said. “Every house has its own energy, and Somerset Park is no different.”

Bramwell came around with dessert, but my appetite had disappeared. There was something different in the air, something that left me in a state of unease. I wondered if Dr. Barnaby would be at the séance. It might be hard to fool a man of science.

We left the room together, both declining the offer of a nightcap in the drawing room. My stomach was full, and my body was groggy with the satisfaction of a decadent meal. Was this what it was like for the rich? To go to bed every night drowsy with the indulgence of food and drink?

Dr. Barnaby held the lamp in one hand while offering me his other arm. Again, I was struck by how opposite his company was to Mr. Pemberton’s, remembering how he kept the lamp between us like a shield.

Bramwell followed behind, snuffing out the sconces along the wall, one by one. We were in a slow race as the darkness clipped at our heels.

A faint light came from under the door of the study. Dr. Barnaby whispered, “If he doesn’t take a rest, I’ll have two patients to contend with. And one stubborn patient is enough.”

I wondered about the package from London.

We climbed the staircase together. “I hope Mr. Lockhart’s health improves soon,” I said. It was not lost on me that he’d been in the greenhouse that very afternoon, cussing at William. I didn’t remember him coughing either. “How long have you known him?”

We reached the landing and walked down the hallway. “I met him the same time I met Audra, so for almost a year now. He’s been the family lawyer for decades.” His expression caved visibly in the same way as when he’d spoken of her at supper, and I was reminded of something.

“Earlier, you mentioned there was another death close to Lady Audra’s,” I said.

He nodded. “A young girl from the village. The sickness took hold of her quickly.”

From over the railing, I could see a single lamp move through the foyer. “Was no one else afflicted?” I asked, putting my attention back on Dr. Barnaby.

“A few elderly people—one especially frail woman who was determined to cure herself with herbal tea.” He paused. “There’s something so unnatural about the death of a young person, isn’t there?”

“That’s an interesting point of view from someone who must come in contact with death regularly.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m working so hard to prevent it, Miss Timmons.”

When we came to my room, Dr. Barnaby kept the lamp in place while I unlocked my door. After I lit one candle from his light, he nodded good night and continued down the hall to Mr. Lockhart’s room. I noted with relief that it was the opposite direction from where Audra’s room was located. And yet there was something itching at the back of my mind that made me watch him until he vanished around the corner.

I shut the door behind me and placed the candle on the mantel. My attention was drawn to the painting of the schooner. This time I was able to make out a shark fin in the waves, inches from a drowning sailor. I shook off an annoying shiver, then changed into my borrowed nightdress and pulled the covers up to my chin and waited. The house creaked and groaned outside my door as it settled for the night.



Echoing up from the library, I heard the gong of the grandfather clock toll twelve times, surely a safe time to prowl the dark corridors. I pulled on a dressing gown, tied the sash tightly around my waist, then took a single candle and locked the door behind me. Padding down the hallway, I turned the corner and found the alcove with the cherub, just as Flora had told me.