A Dreadful Splendor (86)

The diary was not there. But the tiara was. Its stones caught the candlelight and winked at me wickedly.





Chapter Fifty-One




Mr. Pemberton reached around me and lifted the tiara, examining it. “I’m ashamed to admit my surprise,” he said dryly.

I had no words. I was certain no one had seen me moving the tiara to the library. But I couldn’t tell Mr. Pemberton that without admitting I had once intended to steal it after the séance. That plan—that earlier version of myself—felt lifetimes ago, though it had only been a few days. Humiliation burned across my face as I confessed a half-truth. “I tried it on for a laugh to see what it would be like to be beautiful. Then I came back to my room, and I’d forgotten to take it off!” My words tumbled out quickly. “I was going to return it, but I was afraid you’d assume the worst of me.”

One blond eyebrow arched. “You can hardly blame me.”

“If I wanted to steal the tiara, why would I open the drawer and show you?” The headdress’s reappearing was unsettling, but more than that, I couldn’t bear him thinking badly of me. Had our connection only been my own wistful fantasy?

“It’s been a strange day.” He seemed to compose himself. “Where is the diary?” he asked again, using the voice he usually reserved for ordering the staff.

“I . . . I don’t know,” I stammered, pushing the petticoats off to the side and back again. “It was here! Just this morning!” I looked around the room, as if an explanation might leap out at me.

He stayed silent. It was worse than any cutting remark.

When he eventually spoke, he sounded more defeated than stern. “After what happened with Sadie, I was considering calling off the séance. I told myself I should finally let Audra’s memory and Somerset Park have some peace. I was considering starting a new life.” He held my stare for only a matter of seconds.

I couldn’t stand this. The thought of leaving, disgraced forever in his eyes, was unendurable. “So much has changed since we first devised this scheme. I want . . . I must do this séance for her. Audra’s spirit has been begging for my help all along. Someone in this house is responsible for her death.” I took a deep breath and raised my chin to look him in the eye. “I may know how she left her room. I need to look. One last time.”

He closed his eyes, pained. Then he nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “One last time.”

As we made our way down the hall, his last three words clung to my skin like morning frost. It felt so final. Somerset Park would forever be etched into my very soul, but my time here was running out.

We silently gained entry to Audra’s room. I went to the fireplace and lit a few candles. Mr. Pemberton gave the area a wary once-over. He seemed uncomfortable here, and I wondered when he’d last stepped foot in this room, or even if he ever had.

“May I?” I said, holding out my hand. After he passed me the tiara, I returned it to the top drawer of the dresser. I had hoped the diary might have somehow returned to this place too, but the secret compartment remained empty.

Regardless, I had a notion that Audra still had one more secret to share. Now I had to put it to the test. I motioned to the towering image of Lady Chadwick. “Audra’s father had this portrait brought up from the Gallery Hall after her mother died.” I went to the large armoire against the opposite wall. “They must have moved her wardrobe to accommodate the painting.” I opened both doors and looked inside. The dresses were still parted as I’d left them, Audra’s unworn wedding gown exposed in all its macabre glory.

Mr. Pemberton groaned, glancing away from it. “Miss Timmons, please,” he said. “Is this necessary?”

I pushed the garment aside and showed him the back paneling. “See the mismatched cedar wood? The new boards are not as aged as the darker ones. This made me wonder why the wardrobe needed a new back.”

He squinted and leaned forward, inspecting the wood.

I returned to the portrait. “In her diary Audra referenced a confidant she named Dearest, someone with sad brown eyes who looked down on her. It was someone who shared her secret—a secret way to escape.”

“Escape?” He took the lamp and held it up to the portrait, Lady Chadwick’s angular face frowning back as us disapprovingly. “But Audra’s mother had blue eyes.”

I moved his hand down until the light shone on the dog. “Meet Dearest,” I said.

He stood there, examining it, mouth open in awe.

I ran my hands along the length of the frame, silently praying this was the answer. Then I felt a series of protruding bolts—hidden hinges. “Pull here,” I told him.

Mr. Pemberton fixed his fingers into the grooves of the frame and pulled back. With an echoing creak, the portrait swung open, revealing a gaping hole in the wall looking down into a black passage. A plume of stale air blew into our faces.

“This must have been here since the manor was first built,” he said.

“A way to spy on the staff?” I offered.

“This is how she got out!” He turned to me with an expression that somehow encompassed both relief and amazement.

I smiled at him. We were finally at the threshold of discovering what had truly happened to Audra that night. But more important, we were doing it together.