A Dreadful Splendor (62)

Mr. Pemberton pulled the velvet rope in the corner. Moments later, Bramwell entered.

“The dining room is set, my lord.” He bowed. “The constable has finished with the staff. Where would you like him to wait? The library?”

“No, the Gallery Hall. Take him there first, please. I’ll follow shortly once the others have had something to eat.”

We all stood. Mr. Pemberton said, “A word, please, Miss Timmons.”

I had no other option but to stay behind. And even though I was grateful to watch William leave, I couldn’t ignore the truth.

Only one person had the ability to get out of my locked room and then back—me. But I had no memory of it! I only had the dream. A new terror paralyzed me. My muscles felt sore this morning. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if I was sleepwalking again? Mrs. Donovan had threatened me, that was certain. And my final thought last night was to wish her harm.

Was I capable of such a thing?

Yes.

I locked eyes with Mr. Pemberton. He knew I was capable of this, and much worse.





Chapter Thirty-Seven




Lady Audra Linwood

Diary Entry

Somerset Park, March 10, 1852

Mr. Lockhart read Father’s will today in the library.

I am numb as I write these words. According to my father’s last wishes, William has been bequeathed a substantial living. He will be allowed to stay at Somerset, officially, as one of the family.

Even though Father had allowed William to cavort and be at ease at Somerset while neglecting his studies, this incredibly generous inheritance is still shocking. I expected he would receive a modest living and perhaps a parsonage in the village, but Father has all but bestowed upon him the title of Earl of Chadwick. Mr. Lockhart seemed as mystified as I.

The manor is full of staff gossip, some of it unnecessarily cruel. They think I’m unaware of the things they whisper.

However, one person was not at all surprised by this turn of events: William. He has been all smugness and vengeance. Gone is the hurt man who fled Somerset after my engagement. He has now returned and appears ready to stake his claim. He said Father told him of this plan on his deathbed, but made William promise not to speak of it until the will was read.

I felt it like a stab to my heart, Dearest. For we both know where I was while Father was dying. I had no defense but to stay silent. I wonder if William knows.

His open glares toward Mr. Pemberton during the reading of the will were ridiculous. As if he had any right! What has William ever done to improve Somerset Park? Nothing. He only indulges in its comforts. I am the one who should be enraged. Such a scandal to be presented in front of my future husband.

I considered every man in the room as Mr. Lockhart read Father’s will. William has developed into a spoiled man, convinced he is owed whatever he desires. Mr. Pemberton, now Earl of Chadwick, is fully aware that Somerset Park and all its contents are now his. Mr. Lockhart was of no use as he stared at the document.

But it wasn’t the living that bothered me so. It was that my own father could not tell me himself. I deeply resent the thought of he and William sharing a secret. I feel as though he stole my father from me.

They all consider me beneath them, something to be dealt with as an afterthought. I looked up at Grandfather’s portrait during the reading for support. He is a mystery to me, but one thing I am sure of: he would never let himself be treated the way I have had to endure.

William took no time in assuming a place in the family and has moved all of his things from his old room to one just down the hall from me. I will make sure to lock my door every night. He is like a shadow I cannot abolish, no matter how many candles I light.

I privately took Mr. Lockhart aside and expressed my worry, but he was no help. He shares my concern, Dearest, but he said the will was quite clear: William may stay at Somerset. I can’t even trust my own father to do the right thing for me.

It is impossible to trust any of them.





Chapter Thirty-Eight




Once we were alone, Mr. Pemberton crossed the room to me, his eyes fiery and intense. “Fetch your coat and bonnet,” he ordered. “Then wait out of sight at the bottom of the staircase. Bramwell will be bringing the constable up from the kitchen via the servants’ passage. Once they’ve passed into the Gallery Hall, come to my study.”

“Are you trying to keep me out of sight?”

“Simply avoiding an unwanted complication. Please hurry.”

I quickly returned to my room, jittery and unsure. I was relieved that Mr. Pemberton had thought of a plan to help me avoid being questioned, yet it only proved he was aware of the threat I represented. I hardly felt myself as I retrieved my coat. I slipped on my muddy boots, hiding them under the long hem of the dress.

Watching from the grand staircase, I saw the constable follow Bramwell into the Gallery Hall. He was stout and walked with a limp. There was a noticeable accent as he commented on the number of large portraits.

Mr. Pemberton appeared around the corner at the newel post, ushering me with a crooked finger. “I’ll take you as far as the lane that leads to the stables,” he said, walking toward the main door. “You’ll be fine to spend a few hours there. Joseph can take care of anything you might need.”

Practically running to keep up, I clumsily tied a bow under my chin.