A Dreadful Splendor (93)

Dr. Barnaby was on the settee. Now I saw a rip in the material, and one of its feet was badly scuffed. I had been so much in awe of Somerset, my mind had been impervious to its imperfections. What else had I been blind against?

“This woman is one of my patients,” Dr. Barnaby said, looking toward the constable. An empty wineglass sat beside him, and his cheeks were flushed. “And I’ll determine if she’s well enough to travel back to London.”

I was too shocked to acknowledge his coming to my defense. I also suspected he’d been hiding in here drinking all evening. Everything had turned on its head. No matter how prepared I had been, fate stepped in and spun the wheel of fortune, or in my case, misfortune. There was no way out.

William snorted from across the room. He lounged in a chair, his black dinner jacket unbuttoned. He held up his glass for a refill, practically celebrating my arrest already. In that moment, I wanted to blurt out how Audra had hated him in the end. I wanted to watch his frail ego char to ash under the glare of the truth. I wanted Flora to see him for the deceitful pig he was.

Bramwell opened another bottle of wine.

The air felt thick in my lungs. Constable Rigby looked as if he wanted to string me up from the closest tree. He probably had plans to murder me on the way back to London to ensure I saw no trial. Maybe he’d toss me off the cliff himself.

There was only one thing I was in control of now. “It’s time,” I announced. “Please follow me to the library.”

With my hand on Mr. Pemberton’s arm, we walked ahead of everyone. He leaned close and whispered, “I have every confidence in you. Having the police here will serve us better and make it impossible for William to escape. Tonight, someone will go to London in handcuffs, but it won’t be you.”

I stayed quiet. Handcuffs or not, the fortune-teller’s promise crept over me. My time was coming to an end.





Chapter Fifty-Four




Once we were all inside the library, Bramwell closed the doors. He and Harry lit the candles and started the fire. Slowly, the room came into full grisly view. Bloodred curtains with gold fringe covered each window. Along the walls, the eyes of the mounted kills leered with menacing stares, while Audra’s portrait looked down on the entire room from above the massive fireplace.

Only Mr. Pemberton and I knew the painting had been moved purposely for tonight. Each man stopped and stared up at her, their lips opening slightly.

The effect was significant.

Constable Rigby stood between the door and the table. “Have her take out her fancy hairpins,” he said to Mr. Pemberton, as if I weren’t in the room. Then he held up a pair of handcuffs. “Can’t have her picking the lock and escaping.”

My ears flamed with anger and embarrassment. He’d said it on purpose, to remind everyone I was a criminal. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on me wearing them for the séance.

“Do not forget where you are, Constable Rigby,” Mr. Pemberton said. “You have no right to give orders under my roof.”

“Your roof,” William sneered under his breath. He plunked down at the round table, spilling some of the brandy he’d taken from the sitting room. Although he was dressed properly, there was an odd odor about him. I wondered what drink he had chosen to indulge in this evening.

I placed a candle in front of each chair, covering them with the chimneys. I pointed to William’s glass of liquor. “You have to remove it from the table,” I told him. “It can interfere.”

He glared at me, probably figuring out by this point that Flora had not kept her promise to drug me. But he stayed quiet and drank the entire contents. Then he turned and threw the glass into the fireplace. There was a hiss followed by a small explosion in the flames.

We all jumped. Mr. Lockhart put a hand to his chest. I could hardly feel guilty now about not giving him his séance of peace, since he’d been lying to me all along.

Next, Dr. Barnaby and Mr. Pemberton took their chairs, leaving me the empty one between them.

I went around the library and blew out the other candles set around the room until the only illumination was from the ones under the glass chimneys. Harry and Bramwell stood at the doors like well-dressed sentries.

I took my place at the table. Reaching for the ghost book, I opened it up, showing everyone the blank surface. I faced Mr. Pemberton. “Do you have a message for Lady Audra?” I asked.

He reached inside his dinner jacket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. “Please read it out loud, Miss Timmons,” he instructed.

Mr. Lockhart sniffed, tears emerging from his lower lids. “She loved you so much.” He’d propped his cane against his chair. One ruby eye stared at me.

I darted a glance toward Dr. Barnaby. He was staring at the ghost book. His pained expression would have been interpreted by anyone as casual grief, but I knew better.

I unfolded the note. It was a question. But unlike Mrs. Hartford’s query of love, this one was grim. I read, “‘Who betrayed you?’”

Mr. Lockhart gasped. He looked at Mr. Pemberton with an expression of disgust. “What is this trickery?” he asked. Then he turned to me and realized I was not shocked. His mouth turned down in a disappointed betrayal. “I see,” he said.

I found his disapproval bothered me more than I expected. I pictured the bloodstains on his handkerchief. The miserable weight of the guilt resurfaced, and I dropped my gaze.