A Dreadful Splendor (70)

He told me that the only way we can be together as a family is to leave Somerset Park. He might as well have asked me to rip out my heart. But it is the only way we will be free to love. And then, as if to guarantee my silence on the matter, he kissed me, and I was at once lost in his arms.

As I write this, I am beginning to understand his reasoning. What use is living at Somerset if my heart is with him? Wasn’t I only saying a few pages ago that this place felt like a tomb? What kind of life would that be?

We stayed in each other’s arms for most of the afternoon. Being the family doctor affords time without need of a chaperone. It was William who interrupted us with an impatient knock on my door.

He is always lurking these days. If I leave, I will not miss him one jot. I swear, I wish he would walk off the cliff.





Chapter Forty-Four




The following morning, I ate my eggs and sausage without noticing their taste. I was in a fog. I’m sure I could have poured a scalding pot of coffee down my throat and it wouldn’t have even registered. My mind was too preoccupied with trying to make sense of what I’d experienced last night. Perhaps Flora’s aunt had somehow filled my head with an imaginary voice. Or Mrs. Donovan had faked her own attack like Flora suggested, and she was using that cover to terrorize me. It would be a conniving plan of immense trickery, which, I reasoned, was within her villainous ability. Both were long stretches, but neither explained the chains secured to the rocks, or the piece of bone.

I was dining alone as Mr. Pemberton was at the stables and Mr. Lockhart was taking breakfast in his room again. I pictured him hunched over his tray, coughing between sips of coffee. He’d been working for the Linwoods all his life, and I didn’t remember him mentioning having his own family. Mr. Pemberton said he’d been staying at Somerset off and on for the last year. I wondered if Dr. Barnaby knew his true diagnosis. If he was only getting a nightly hot toddy as a treatment, perhaps I should intervene. At the very least I should pay him a visit.

Relieved to push the dungeon to the back of my mind I made my way to Mr. Lockhart’s room after receiving directions from Harry. The hallway was empty. I was about to knock on his door when I heard the muffled sound of an argument. I leaned closer, pressing my ear to the wood.

Mr. Lockhart’s hushed words were undistinguishable, but the urgency hinted at anger. There was a pause, then he spoke again, this time more in control. He let out a sigh, then something slammed shut. I jumped back, feeling the vibration against my ear.

I knocked, then said, “Mr. Lockhart? It’s Miss Timmons.”

To my surprise, he opened the door without hesitating. He was cleanly shaven and dressed in his shirt and tie. “Lovely to see you.” He smiled. He stepped to the side and motioned for me to enter.

“I was concerned when you weren’t at breakfast,” I said, taking in his room. It was larger than mine, with a palette of gold and dark blue. Instead of a vanity, he had an extra chest of drawers and a writing desk. An oval table held the breakfast tray with remnants of dried yolk and a bread crust. A large portrait of a long-dead relative took most of the wall space opposite the canopy bed. I wondered how he slept knowing those eyes were watching him in the dark.

The room was grand, but it only had Mr. Lockhart.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, my dear. I’m feeling quite well today, but I wanted to stay in my room so I could build your case.” He cleared his throat and motioned to the desk. I saw the stack of papers that had been in Mr. Pemberton’s room—my police file. “I’ve been through it twice now, and I have to be honest, I’m eager to take this on.” He brought out his handkerchief and coughed into it lightly.

I noticed a cut on his hand. “Did you hurt yourself?” I asked.

He looked confused, then examined the cut across his knuckles. “I have no idea. When you get to be my age, you can bump against the bedpost and break a hip. But do not fret, Miss Timmons. I have a clear strategy in mind to clear your name. I don’t even anticipate it taking longer than a few days.” He pocketed the handkerchief and clapped his hands together in glee. “I have to thank you, actually. I feel like this has given me new life.”

I glanced again at the file. He sounded confident, but there was a lingering sense of disquiet about the room.

“Before I knocked, I heard you arguing,” I said.

A blush colored his pale cheeks. “Just practising. Giving the argument out loud to an invisible jury helps me prepare.”

His grey eyes smiled back at me with hope and promise. In that moment I wished I could give Mr. Lockhart the séance he wanted. I wished he would forgive my lies. But most of all I wished for him to be proud of me.

I took his injured hand in mine. “Thank you,” I said.



Flora had been avoiding me since our argument, which unfortunately left me to my own devices to prepare for the special dinner that evening. Darkness fell quickly. I lit every candle in my room, which was odd for someone who was never afraid of the shadows.

I begrudgingly chose the dark green dress with the low neckline as it was big enough for me to do up the buttons on the back and slip it over my head. With the extra hairpins, I could make sure all my curls were flattened at the sides and neatly held in the back. The result wasn’t outstanding, but it was passable.

I considered faking another headache to avoid the company, but when I learned William would be in attendance a part of me relished the thought of glaring at him from across the table for his despicable treatment of Flora. Besides, as uninterested as I was in dining with this stranger, the thought of spending time alone after the sun went down bothered me more than I wanted to admit.