Page 32 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Beneath it was the family motto, written in Latin, “Vincit Veritas”.
“Truth conquers,” Eudora breathed, allowing herself to imagine this as a good omen.
She read furiously through the text on the Percival family—which, given that their history dated back to the Normans, was rather long—until she finally found something that caught her eye.
“In 1720, the Seventh Earl of Arundel, along with others involved in the maritime industry, founded The Royal Exchange Assurance,” Eudora read, her heart skipping wildly in her chest, “Which offered a range of insurance policies, including fire insurance, marine insurance, and life insurance…”
Eudora thumped her fist on the table in triumph, in a most unladylike manner. Finally, something which pointed suspicion away from Lady Albermay.
Having spent most of the morning trying to avoid Lord Delaney, Eudora was rather annoyed to discover that he was nowhere to be found now that she needed him. She wandered from floorto floor, hoping to see him, but his solid, comforting presence evaded her.
Unlike the baron, her sisters popped up everywhere she turned. Having dodged Jane in the front parlour and Emily in the music room, Eudora found that she could not escape the eldest of her siblings, who emerged from a room on the third floor just as Eudora passed.
“You are wearing the look of a young lady who is up to mischief,” Mary said as she spotted her, eyes narrowing with the suspicion of an elder sister.
“I am not,” Eudora huffed in response, aggrieved that she could not even walk the halls without being accused of mischief.
“Am I supposed to believe it is happenstance that finds you wandering the hallway? That coincidence finds you outside the room where Lord Crabb conducts his interviews?” Mary’s questions were delivered in a tone of disbelief that bordered on theatricality.
Eudora, who had not known this, felt her irritation double at being accused of a crime she had not committed—but would have, had she had prior knowledge.
“Hen’s teeth,” she exclaimed, angered by the unfairness of it, “Why do you all feel that you can boss me about as though I am a child?”
“You were told that Ivo would undertake the investigation into Lord Albermay’s murder, yet here you are— ”
“—Walking!” Eudora interjected, her pitch high with indignation, “I am walking the house to keep myself occupied; in case you hadn’t noticed, your Grace, we’re unable to leave the house.”
Mary raised a brow at the rather mocking tone Eudora had placed upon her title. Her eyebrows knitted into a dark frown, and for a moment, she appeared as though she was going torespond to Eudora’s spleen with some of her own. Instead, much to Eudora’s horror, a brief look of pity crossed her face.
“I know how frustrating it must feel to be the youngest, Eudora,” Mary said, her voice kind, “But please consider that we only want what’s best for you. When you set up a home of your own, perhaps with Lord Delaney, you will—”
At the mere mention of Lord Delaney, Eudora felt her face flush with humiliation as she recalled how she had waited hopefully for a kiss that had not come. Hot, prickly heat crept down her body to her belly, where shame and embarrassment turned to fury. Her hope had been misguided, it was true, but had she not been steered and encouraged in an erroneous direction by her meddlesome family?
“Enough!” Eudora cried, interrupting Mary’s patter, “I hope I never marry and set up home. From what I can see, marriage serves only to turn tolerable sisters into intolerable matchmakers. Poor ones at that! Lord Delaney has made it quite clear that he holds no romantic interest in me, yet you all insist upon meddling and needling, and I have had enough.”
The fury that had fueled her outburst evaporated as she finished speaking, and to Eudora’s surprise, hot tears prickled her eyelids. Unable to bear Mary’s look of pity, Eudora turned on her heel and fled down the corridor.
Plumpton Hall’s never-ending warren of hallways and corridors afforded Eudora a quick, if not dignified, escape. After running miles of carpet, several flagstone corridors, and three sets of servant’s stairs, Eudora finally spotted an open doorway. Glad to find a private refuge where she might indulge in self-piteous tears, she rushed inside, realising too late that the room was not as unoccupied as she had assumed.
“Miss Mifford, are you unwell?” Mr Lowell stood as she entered, his handsome face a picture of concern.
Eudora froze, scanning the room to ascertain if she had just thrown herself into Mr Lowell’s private chambers. The room was round in shape, part of one of the turrets, and filled with a hodgepodge mix of furniture and long-lost antiques. Seeing her confusion, Mr Lowell kindly came to her rescue.
“I believe this is the late housekeeper’s parlour room,” he offered, most helpfully. "I’m afraid I’ve made myself quite at home here, as we await our escape. The windows are quite narrow, but they offer a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside.”
He gestured toward the arched window. Eudora duly obliged him by stepping across the worn Axminster to peer out at the snow-covered vista. She oohed and ahhed appropriately, but her mind was somewhat distracted by the image of Mr Lowell performing the same act. She imagined he cut a dashing figure, staring moodily out across the rolling hills - perhaps dreaming of being reunited with his lady love. The lady in question would, of course, be beautiful, for men like Mr Lowell always attracted beautiful women. Lord Delaney was also certain to attract only the prettiest of ladies, given his title, strong shoulders, and charming smile…
To Eudora’s horror, she found more tears streaming down her cheeks as she imagined Lord Delaney pining for some love far away. How silly she had been to think that he might feel something for her when he had the whole of the ton to choose from. How stupid she had been, too, for wanting for so long to be older than she was when the pain in her heart made her feel one hundred years old, and it was desperate.
“Ahem,” Mr Lowell gave a discreet cough as he proffered a handkerchief her way.
“I do apologise,” Eudora hiccuped, as she gratefully accepted the linen cloth to wipe away her tears. "I’m not usually so weepy,but I’m afraid that I had something of an argument with one of my sisters.”
“Understandable,” Mr Lowell commented, “Tempers will fray when people are cooped up inside for long periods.”
Eudora nodded in agreement, glad of his diplomacy. Although she did not know Mr Lowell well, or at all really, his presence was very comforting.
“You will make up, don’t fret,” he continued, seeking to reassure.
