A Dreadful Splendor (56)

The wind picked up, lashing at us. I clutched my bonnet as he struggled to keep the umbrella over our heads. The lantern created deep shadows under his eyes. “Come, we’re getting close,” he said, leading me to the greenhouse. “It’s the only part of Somerset where we can truly be alone.”

Alone for what, though? I wondered. I walked into the glass building first. He handed me the lantern, then shook out the umbrella and propped it against the door. Water dripped down, making a pool on the stone floor.

The quiet of the room surrounded us. It was warm in here, a stark contrast to the icy rain. He took off his top hat and ran a hand through his thick blond hair a few times.

“This way,” he said. We started to make our way through a path of potted ferns. I held the lantern out, craning my neck around the curve of greenery, expecting to see a copper hidden among the leaves. If I had to, I would make a run for it.

He cleared his throat. “I want to apologize for what I said in the library this afternoon. It was an unwarranted reaction on my part with no consideration to your feelings. I’m afraid I treated you unfairly.”

An apology was the last thing I’d been expecting. I timidly replied, “I’ve been speaking liberally since I’ve arrived.”

He turned to me, holding the top hat with both hands. “I owe you an explanation for my motivation. When I realized the package from London was a copy of your police file, I had to read through it in its entirety. On my way back to my room that night, I had made up my mind to confront Mr. Lockhart the next morning, but then I saw you standing at the top of the stairs. You were about to throw yourself down.” Mr. Pemberton looked pained, then shook his head. “I didn’t hesitate to lunge for you. It was a great fright, I confess. And once I realized you were sleepwalking, I became intrigued. I felt there was more to understand about you.”

My heart was racing. I didn’t dare reply. A small part of me was eager to hear more about his interpretation of our meetings, even though I knew it would end badly. I touched the edge of my bonnet, making sure the tiara was still completely tucked out of sight.

He continued, “After our first few meetings, it became clear to me that you are not at all the person those reports suggest. I decided to trust my instincts and let you stay.”

I recalled what Mr. Lockhart had told me in the carriage—that I was the only one capable of giving him what money could never buy. Peace.

Mr. Pemberton frowned, the lines on his forehead deeper than usual. “This afternoon, when you accused me of not taking Audra’s death seriously, I retaliated most viciously. And I would like to make it clear that my anger was not with you, but with myself. I should have been more attentive to her, regardless of the nature of our arrangement. It pains me that she will never know my regret.”

I had a repertoire of replies that would have been appropriate, but he knew too much about my profession, and I worried anything I said would sound inauthentic. So I simply replied, “Thank you for your apology.” Then I could not help but ask, “Does this mean you still want to continue with the séance?”

His voice was steady. “Yes, of course. Our original plan hasn’t changed.”

We resumed walking. The path narrowed, and our arms brushed lightly.

I noticed that he had made no mention of the parish constable. “Where is the file now?” I asked.

There was the smallest notion of a sheepish expression across his face. “I repackaged it and had it delivered to Mr. Lockhart this evening. He is unaware I saw it and is probably looking it over himself as we speak.”

Relief washed over me. All this time I had been worried what his reaction would be when he discovered the extent of my criminal past. But he hadn’t summoned the police—instead he was requesting that I stay. Since he had been truthful with me, I justified that it was time I shared the nature of my bargain with Mr. Lockhart. “He promised to help clear my name.”

He nodded, hardly surprised. “I reasoned that was why the file had been sent. No wonder you were worried about disappointing him.”

The quiet of the greenhouse flowed between us like an unwanted chaperone. My boots squelched with each step, but I didn’t mind. It seemed disaster had been avoided. And not only was I still a guest at Somerset Park, but it appeared Mr. Pemberton and I would continue as allies. The notion was comforting.

We came upon several rows of the same stocky plant. The nameplate made me stop in my tracks: helleborus orientalis. It was the same word written on Audra’s wedding list. Why would she insist on having this unextraordinary flower as part of her bridal bouquet?

“The winter rose,” Mr. Pemberton said, leaning over my shoulder.

“It looks unremarkable.”

“Not striking as roses go, but they thrive under the harshest of circumstances.” He paused and looked at me over the glow of the lantern. “There’s something admirable about that.”

A warmth swept down to my toes. It felt like a secret compliment. But how much had he been able to garner from the police file? Did he have a clear image of my life? Maybe he had only been talking about the flowers after all. “Were they a favourite flower of Lady Audra’s?” I asked.

The emotion slipped from his face as his expression grew blank. “I have no idea. From what I know of her, she was fond of bold and colorful blooms. Nothing as unassuming as this.”