A Dreadful Splendor (63)

The rains from yesterday still rendered the ground soggy, and I was grateful for every step that added more mud to my boots. Wordlessly, Mr. Pemberton led me around the side of the house, away from the windows of the Gallery Hall. Both of us walked briskly, our breaths coming out as puffs of steam.

I jogged to keep up with his quick pace. “What about the constable?” I asked.

He spoke over his shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned, once he leaves today, everyone will have been questioned and there will be no need for him to return. I understand the word of an earl holds merit with the magistrate.”

I wanted to be grateful for his assistance, but I didn’t want to bring attention to the real reason he had to do this in the first place. “Thank you,” I murmured to his back. Without warning, he stopped, and then turned to me. The wind blew his hair back. He was only in his suit jacket, and his ears were red from the cold.

He was about to say something when Flora came bustling from the direction of the kitchen garden. Her coat was buttoned up to her chin, and her bonnet was pulled down low. An empty basket hung from the crook of her elbow. She jumped when Mr. Pemberton called out to her, staring at us with wide eyes. He beckoned her over.

“Good day, m’lord,” she said, chin bowed.

Mr. Pemberton nodded. “I know the staff are concerned about Mrs. Donovan, but I want to assure you the police will be thorough. I’m sure Mrs. Galloway is relieved to have him out of her way. Is the kitchen busy with preparations for tomorrow night?”

“Aye, m’lord,” Flora replied. “She’s set the menu. I’m on me way to the village to pick up the last ingredients.” She then awkwardly motioned to the path.

“Our meeting is lucky coincidence,” Mr. Pemberton said. “As Miss Timmons was just mentioning she longed for a walk, and she hasn’t had the chance to tour Wrendale.”

I couldn’t help but admire the smooth lie. I began to anticipate his performance for the séance. He looked at me, then nudged me with his elbow when I did not reply.

“Yes, Flora,” I said. “I’d truly appreciate your company as well.”

She mumbled assent, barely lifting her eyes.

Mr. Pemberton stepped back. “I hope you find Wrendale to your liking,” he said.



Flora was quiet until we reached the edge of Somerset Park and turned onto the road. The ruts of the path were filled with puddles, so we stuck to the raised ridge in the middle. Now that I was clear from having to face the constable, my attention returned to Flora and what she’d seen the night before the wedding. However, I sensed her reluctance to tell me hadn’t changed since this morning.

When she finally spoke, it was about Mrs. Donovan. “Everyone thinks she might have staged the whole thing. She’s so bitter, I bet she’s tryin’ to stir up trouble. You know, she warned us before you showed up that night. She said nothin’ good would come from havin’ you in the house.”

“She did? Why?” I nearly tripped.

Flora grabbed my elbow, pulling me back. She linked her arm through mine. We continued to walk that way, giving each other more balance.

She shrugged. “Don’t matter, she’s lyin’, I bet.” The basket swung off her other arm.

As much as I wanted to believe Flora, I knew someone couldn’t fake a bump on the back of their head. I tried to change the subject. “What’s so important about tomorrow?” I asked, thinking of the errand I was accompanying her on. “It sounds like an elaborate meal is planned.”

“A special guest will be attendin’ for dinner. Miss Gibbons has connections and a rather rich American cousin who’s developed an interest in English estates. Joseph said that Mr. Pemberton is hoping to do business with some developers she has influence with.” Then she scrunched up her face. “Can’t say I’m too excited about it, though. I hates the idea of Somerset Park being cut up and sold off in bits and pieces.”

“I’m sure the new owner will keep Somerset intact. Even so, I can’t imagine someone with your skills will be in want of employment. There must be many manors in need of staff.”

She laughed so hard she lost her footing, almost taking me with her into a puddle. “Yes, I want to be a scullery girl the rest of my life.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh no, I imagine you didn’t.” She snorted again, and I knew she was being lighthearted. The clouds thinned above us. Soon, the sun warmed our chilled faces. Although most of the trees had lost their leaves, the walk was pleasant, and the fresh late-autumn air was the perfect respite to the heavy suspicion of the manor.

“I’m glad we have this time, Jenny.” Flora sighed, content.

We travelled along the road as the village came into view. I was curious which shops Flora would take me to, but we turned up a lane and came to a sweet cottage. Its stone walls were covered in vines, and there was an impressive garden that took up much of the property.

“This is my auntie Lil’s,” Flora explained as she opened the gate for me. “She used to work at Somerset back when Lord Chadwick the third was alive.” She lowered her voice. “Her mind’s been slippin’ a bit these last few years, so take everything she says with a grain of salt.”



“Ta, Auntie Lil,” Flora said as the elderly woman placed a serving of sliced cake on the table between us. White spirals of hair peeked out from under her plain headscarf that tied under her chin. Her thick skirt reached the wooden floor, making a sweeping motion as she hobbled about, serving us. A pot of tea came next. Flora’s aunt then dropped herself into a rocking chair by the stove and lit a small pipe. She wore several sweaters but was small enough to still appear slight.