Page 40 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
In a fog of uncertainty, Verity smiled at the lovely blond—rather young—Lavender and her sewing ladies, thanked them for the lovely gowns, and agreed on all their suggestions. The clothes were second-hand, like the ones she’d bought after the fire, but Lavender had a gift for making them stylish. They might not be her mother’s silks, but she’d feel like a lady nonetheless.
Only her stolen hat had been almost new, with fresh lace and ribbons. She described it to the ladies, and they promised to watch out for it. She didn’t tell them the thief had a pistol. Was that bad of her too? She didn’t have a lot of practice in conversing.
In the meantime, Lavender offered her a simple buff muslin bonnet with black ribbons and a small black ruffled edging. Verity thought she might add a little trim to match her new gowns and was grateful to have a hat again, even if it lacked a veil and wasn’t as grandiose as the stolen one.
Now, if only she had good shoes...
A handsome blond lady of about Verity’s age, Clare Huntley stopped in to ask about a gown she was having made up and admired the only slightly faded primrose muslin Verity was trying on. “That color is very fetching. I’m glad you’re coming out of blacks.”
“They were all I had,” Verity admitted. They were all she’d hadbeforethe fire, so she’d simply bought more. “I suppose I didn’t feel very colorful.”
“I understand,” the captain’s wife said with feeling. “I lost my mother and sister within a year of each other and not long after losing my father. I didn’t think I’d ever leave mourning either. You should come to dinner when Lavender finishes that one. Minerva says we must discuss schoolrooms and chalkboards.”
“And reading primers,” Verity suggested. “Miss Edgerton’sbooks are a bit advanced for beginners.” The ancient primers she’d once used to teach with had been in her cellar home. They were gone now. They’d been in tatters anyway.
“Mr. Birdwhistle might help with primers,” Lavender suggested, removing a pin from her mouth to hold up a ruffle. “He is helping me to read and has ordered a few.”
Mrs. Huntley seemed surprised to learn that. Who was Mr. Birdwhistle? Verity wanted to know more of the manor’s inhabitants. She’d never had much opportunity to make friends and had often wondered about the people behind the windows she passed on her trips to the bank.
But if she was a danger to these people...
She simply could not understand how. Or why.
“I’d love that,” was all she knew to answer. She’d never been to a formal dinner. The thought terrified her, but she wanted to live as other people did.
Mrs. Huntley blithely sailed on to the construction in the far corner of the immense gallery. Verity’s home had been comfortably large, but she had never seen the inside of a grand manor. She thought the gallery’s two-story windows and chandeliers indicated this might once have been a ballroom instead of a hive of industrious activity. She’d once dreamed of waltzing around a chamber such as this. Now, she rather approved of the more practical activity. Besides, she couldn’t waltz.
“I promised Sergeant Russell two new shirts to replace the one damaged by ruffians,” she told Lavender as she tugged on her old gown in the dressing room. “Is that possible?”
“New would be easier than making over an old one,” the girl admitted. “He’s rather large and finding anything his size might be difficult. I have Henri looking out for a nice large coat I can make over, but shirts are simple to sew. I just need him to stand still long enough to measure.”
Verity had no notion of where Rafe had wandered off to. He’d merely deposited her here and gone off on his own errands. Thatwas perfectly understandable. She was simply back to feeling like a fish out of water again. She may as well become used to it.
“Where might I find this Mr. Birdwhistle?” she asked once she was dressed in her drab gown again.
Lavender brightened. “I believe he is teaching the boys mathematics by measuring the tower. Let us see how the renovation commences.” She led the way past her sewing ladies toward the corner where lengths of Holland linen hung from ropes to contain the dust. Behind the curtains, stacks of lumber and tools lay scattered about. “This floor of the tower will be Sofia’s perfumery, we hope. We need more flowers and gardens but there is not much profit in them until the perfumery is ready.”
“Miss Edgerton’s yard brims with all sorts of flowers. I am not a gardener, but I’ve read books. I believe flowering plants are produced by seeds and spread by roots, so when it’s time to plant more gardens, you’ll have at least one source.”
“Is there lavender? Sofia thinks we should start with lavender. Since that’s my name, I’m thinking it ought to be on the label.” The little seamstress grinned at her own absurdity.
“Well, if it is a lavender scent, then your name will be on the label, won’t it? Lavender’s Lavender eau de cologne?” Verity studied the activity in the rather dark and gloomy stone tower.
On the far side of the large, circular room, workmen were in the process of removing a wall concealing a stairway. A very tall man with dark hair who resembled Captain Huntley—a French count, Verity thought she’d been told—consulted with a delicate blond lady, their heads bending together in a manner indicating familiarity. After arguing over a piece of paper the lady held, the muscular gentleman in shirtsleeves hauled some of the stones down the stairs, presumably to the cellar.
My word. Verity hoped her eyebrows didn’t reach her hairline. She didn’t often see gentlemen without their coats... She’d no idea how much she had missed while hiding behind books! Would Rafe look like that if he removed his coat?
“I’ll ask Thea if the boys have gone back to the schoolroom. Come along, you should meet her.” Distracting Verity from her reverie, Lavender made her way across a floor coated in sawdust, holding her hem from the grime. “Thea communes with ghosts.”
With little concern for her worn hem, Verity followed.Ghosts? And broad-shouldered aristocrats who hauled heavy blocks of stone. What else had she missed while living in a cellar?
Following Lavender, she saw Rafe speaking with construction workers. By the time they reached the blond lady, she was consulting with a fashionably dressed couple in garments much too nice for this filthy workplace. Verity searched faces uneasily, hoping she wouldn’t be imagining any more of her past in these strangers.
Relieved that she recognized no one, she bobbed a curtsy at her introduction to a Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, collectors of fine furniture. All her father’s fine furniture had gone up in flames, so they didn’t hold her interest.
“Mrs. Porter?” The fashionable lady became more animated at the name. “I understand your former governess left some interesting art portfolios. We know a publisher who might be interested. Might we stop by and visit?”
Verity’s disinterest immediately converted to suspicion. “The portfolios are not mine to display or sell. You will need to consult with Miss Edgerton’s solicitor and heirs.”
