Preoccupied with the letter, she shook her head. “No. But I was only there a moment. Then I went upstairs with Carmichael to help her pick what I’ll need for the tea when Lord Charles arrives next week.” Disappointed, she glanced around. “I guess I just missed him.”
With an appreciative nod to Pencely, she headed for the library, where she’d have privacy to open the long-awaited correspondence. Crossing the threshold, she pulled up when she spotted Lady Audrey on the sofa, working on some needlework. A small blaze snapped and crackled invitingly in the fireplace.
Since her and Beranger’s arrival, his younger sister was rarely around and had remained aloof. Friend or foe, she couldn’t tell. They’d gotten together twice to plan the festivities coming up in a little over a week and had all the invitations addressed and ready to send out. During those times, Lady Audrey had been quick with ideas and talkative, but then she’d lapsed back into detachment. Emma wished for the sort of closeness she shared with her sisters back home.
She seated herself in a chair across from the young woman.
Lady Audrey looked up and acknowledged Emma’s presence with a polite yet noncommittal nod.
Lonely for her own sisters, Emma broke her rule of not speaking first to Lady Audrey or the dowager, so she didn’t always feel as though she were asking for their approval. “What are you working on, Lady Audrey? The colors are quite pretty.”
“Just a sampler piece,” Lady Audrey replied, keeping her gaze on her work. Her hands were swift and supple, well practiced at her craft. Emma had never had much patience for stitchery. “What do you have there?” she asked, finally looking up and gesturing to the letter. “Correspondence from Colorado?”
“Yes, from my sister Katie.” Just saying that filled Emma with happiness. She longed to rip open the envelope, but also wanted to take advantage of having Lady Audrey all to herself. This was the first private conversation they’d had. Perhaps the dowager’s influence had made her elusive. Perhaps she could win Lady Audrey over as a friend and ally. “We never lived apart before I married your brother.”
“You must be homesick.” Lady Audrey set her needlework in her lap and repositioned herself on the sofa.
She looked so open and inviting at this moment. Yet there was something about her that made Emma suspicious and then ashamed of her distrust.
“I saw my brother today. He looks much better. I’ve been worried.”
The first concern I’ve seen from her. Perhaps she’s thawing.
“Yes. I’m very pleased. I hope we’ve seen the last of that nasty illness—or whatever was the cause.”
Lady Audrey gave a guarded smile and tipped her head. “I’ve heard my mother refer to you as a mail-order bride. I know that’s not the case,” she said, hurrying on, “but do you know any mail-order brides? I can’t imagine marrying someone I’ve never met.”
Lady Audrey seemed truly interested. She didn’t have some sort of secret plan up her sleeve, did she?
“I don’t know any personally, but there are many brave and courageous women who have opted to change the life they have, or the life that is expected of them, to strike out on their own. It’s true many have never met their betrothed face-to-face but have gotten to know them even better by months of letters. There is much to be said for truthful correspondence.”
Lady Audrey’s eyes were large. “Oh, I agree.”
“But you, I’ve heard from Lord Harry, have many romantic prospects. Noblemen from around the countryside have been vying for your attention. That must be thrilling.”
Beranger’s sister glanced at the windows across the room and then back into Emma’s eyes. “That is somewhat true,” she said slowly. “Some have stopped pursuing me once they learned I would not become duchess after all.”
“Then you’ve been spared, Lady Audrey. You wouldn’t want a man after titles anyway! I can tell you, a love match is well worth the wait. Don’t rush into anything.”
A glimmer came back into Lady Audrey’s eyes. “I agree. My mother says I’m still a good match, but I fear the man I’d be interested in would not meet her approval. She’d never agree.”
“Time is your friend,” Emma said. “Never say never.”
A small smile pulled Lady Audrey’s lips, and she nodded at the letter in Emma’s lap. “Read your letter, because I know you’re dying to. I’ll just go back to my needlework.”
Relieved, Emma opened the thick envelope. A puff of soft violet scent, just like Katie liked to wear, brought a surge of emotion. The sight of her handwriting almost made Emma tear up. Amid all the turbulence here, thinking of home was a pleasure. Would Ashbury ever feel like home?
My dearest Emma,
How strange to think you all the way across the ocean and half a continent . . .
For the next twenty minutes, Emma was transported back to Eden, as Katie regaled her with updates on the ranch, the little shop she’d inherited, the new goings-on in their town. She lavished pages on each of their sisters that made Emma remember the many evenings they’d spent sitting on each other’s beds, sharing gossip and encouraging each other’s hearts and dreams. Lavinia and her new husband were still acting like they were on their honeymoon—which they were, since they’d married the same day as she and Beranger—though Lavinia had begun work on a new collection of hats; Belle, married the longest of the sisters, teased the newlyweds relentlessly, but she and Blake were making progress on turning a portion of the working ranch into a guest ranch for visitors; Mavis and the sheriff had moved no closer to announcing a formal engagement. Of her own broken heart, Katie said nothing, but in her endless list of questions for Emma about what England was like, and her repeated promises to visit, was a sense that she was moving on, beginning to relish life and her future once more. Emma felt herself laughing and tearing up simultaneously. Oh, this letter had arrived at the perfect time!
It was only as Emma flipped to the final page that her spirits crashed to earth as she was reminded of Beranger’s ill health and the letter that had been stolen from her dresser, the last words her father had ever hoped to say to her.
Now, I must know what Father said in your birthday letter. We know you’re busy and that’s why you haven’t written yet, but please have mercy. Write back today, if you haven’t already. We all miss you and your smiling face very much.
All my love, Katie
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Charlotte stood at the bakeshop window watching the leaves swirl in the street. Her mind was jumbled like the yellow and orange flurry tumbling by. Autumn. Her favorite season. The quietness of the earth was preparing for the onslaught of winter. Shawls and mittens would soon appear on women and children, and the tangy scents of pumpkin and cinnamon would fill every home. With a start, she realized the scent of pumpkin was on the air now.
Thinking about all her beloved things didn’t lift her spirits.
Business had been slow all afternoon. Her gritty eyes stung from the lack of sleep. All night long she’d gone over and over the angry words from yesterday’s confrontation with her aunt. And what was to become of Thomas? Only one customer had been in since two o’clock, which was unusual for a Friday afternoon. She hoped the sluggish business didn’t have something to do with the turbulence that had hung over the bakeshop since yesterday.
Verity was in the kitchen with her mother making pies and other pastries, something they liked to do together at the end of the week. At these times, Charlotte ran the front counter, swept and tided up, and dreamed of a different kind of life, one of love and romance and perhaps a place of her own.
Am I fooling myself? I had a chance to work at the castle and foolishly let my feelings of indebtedness force me to remain here. Could things change, or will I end up the spinster niece, always dependent on a woman who can’t stand me?
Last evening, after she and Thomas had come in from the barn, she’d found the constable speaking with her aunt after they’d closed for the night. He’d been the law in town for as
long as she could remember, and his wife was a good customer at the bakeshop. Alice, a sturdy woman whose children were all grown with urchins of their own, came in once or twice a week seeking something premade for their supper. Unfortunately, by the looks on their faces, the constable and Aunt Ethel had not been discussing food. When Thomas appeared, their mouths snapped closed, and a fear zipped up Charlotte’s back. The constable had quickly pointed out a few scones, settled up, and was gone. Aunt Ethel hadn’t said a word.
Now, amid the blowing leaves, Charlotte could see Phoebe Lewis headed toward the bakeshop with one of her young’uns and her husband. The child, her youngest, was called Cornie, which was short for Cornelia. Small for her age, the little thing always seemed to want to disappear from sight.
The three stopped a few feet away, and Leo and Phoebe began to argue. Anger simmered in Leo’s face. When he raised his arm, Phoebe quickly stepped back. The little girl was dirty, and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed for days. When Cornie caught Charlotte watching in the window, she ducked behind her mother. Finally, Leo reached in his pocket and handed something to his wife. Charlotte didn’t have time to move away from the window before Phoebe and her daughter turned her way.
“Good day, Phoebe, and you too, Cornie,” Charlotte said as they entered. She extended her arm and caressed the girl’s cheek before she was out of reach. “What would you like? Are you in need of something for supper, or just a sweet to calm a little tummy?” She hurried around the counter.
The child ran to the display case, splaying her hands across the glass.
Phoebe nodded and said in a beaten-down voice, “Just a biscuit for this hungry poppet.”
One biscuit with all her children. How awful to be so poor. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder, wondering about Aunt Ethel. Did she dare offer Phoebe anything for free? Charlotte had just bagged an assortment of broken biscuit portions not ten minutes ago.
Leo came close to the window and frowned inside, causing indignation to rise up within Charlotte. Couldn’t his wife have five minutes of peace? When his gaze met hers, he turned his back and shoved his hand into his pockets.
“Which one would you like, sweetie?” Charlotte asked calmly. “What looks good on this blustery afternoon?”
The girl shyly pointed to a walnut fig, the largest of the varieties.
“Good choice. Those are my favorite too.” Feeling bold, Charlotte handed one over the counter to the child, whose gaze brimmed with expectation. Lifting one brow, Charlotte pressed her finger to her lips at Phoebe. Beyond the window, Leo’s back was still visible. Then Charlotte quickly wrapped up one dozen biscuits and the last of the walnut fig, and handed the package over. She’d pay for them out of her own pocket; she had a salary now and could afford this one splurge.
“Put it inside your coat,” Charlotte whispered. “So Leo doesn’t see.” She looked at Cornie. “Our secret. For you and the others.”
Charlotte lifted the bag of biscuit pieces. “I also have this sack for a halfpenny, Phoebe. They’re broken, but children don’t seem to care.”
Phoebe nodded. “Thank you, we’ll take that as well,” she said, placing a few coins on the countertop.
Relieved to see her go before Aunt Ethel came out, Charlotte let out a breath as the doorbells jingled. But that feeling was short-lived. Holding the door for Phoebe was Constable Kerrigan. He stepped inside.
Charlotte told herself not to panic. He’d watched her and her cousins grow up. He wouldn’t want to see trouble come to Thomas. She tried to smile but felt her lips wobble.
“Good afternoon, Constable. How is Mrs. Kerrigan? I usually see her on Friday afternoons. I hope she’s not unwell.” The man’s familiar smile did little to thaw the ice that had formed in Charlotte’s veins. Where was Thomas anyway? She hadn’t seen him for a few hours.
“As well as can be, Charlotte. That woman will outlive me by fifty years, mark my words.” He put his nose in the air and smiled. “You’re one lucky girl to spend your days in here. What’s baking? Pumpkin scones? Pie? I’d get so fat I’d not be able to fit through the door.”
“Pumpkin biscuits.” Maybe she was wrong. Perhaps Alice had sent him in to pick up something for supper. He was acting so friendly. He wouldn’t do that if he were here to arrest Thomas, would he?
His smile faded. “Your brother around? I need him to come with me to my office and talk over a few things.”
Oh, my heavens, this is it. My nightmare has arrived. Once Thomas was down there, they’d lock him up. But not if she gave them some doubt by mentioning that she’d seen Mr. Henderley. Would Tristen think she’d made the accusation up about his uncle just to help Thomas?
“Why do you need him? Has he done something wrong? I couldn’t help but notice your long face last night. That wasn’t like you at all.”
He stepped forward and lowered his voice.
She leaned over the glass display case to catch his words.
“Another man, a villager from north of Brightshire, has come forward to say he saw Thomas skirting the trees the day the duke died. He looked disheveled. Like he was sneaking. As you know, when I questioned Thomas before, it was because the bakeshop ties him to the castle. He’d told me he was fishing, but he doesn’t have anyone to say they saw him at the river. I’d like him to clarify a few things for me, that’s all.”
“But why now? The incident was over nine months ago. Why did the man wait to say anything? That feels suspicious to me.”
His eyebrow peaked, and a knowing expression came over his face. “He didn’t say anything before because he had a very strong dislike of the previous duke. Called him arrogant. Said if he were murdered, good riddance.”
She pulled away. “That’s horrible.”
“I agree. The law is the law for one and for all. The bloke should have spoken up sooner, before clues that may have been there were lost. Anyway, when he learned the new duke had returned to England to claim the title, he was happy. Then he learned the duke had begun to ask questions about his brother’s death, so he felt compelled to come forward, whether his information would help or not. He’s telling his tale now out of respect for the man. Back when the new duke was only a boy, and still the illegitimate son with different-colored eyes, he’d done the man a kindness. Dived into a swift river, unmindful of his own safety, to rescue the fella’s pup that had fallen from the bank.” Constable Kerrigan shrugged. “I have to follow up on all leads, Miss Aldridge. All Thomas has to do is find me someone to verify his claim to his whereabouts that day and he’ll be off the hook.” He laughed at his own wit. “As it were.”
But he won’t be able to do that, now will he? He was in the forest that day because I saw him with my own eyes. And then he lied about it to me for months. What on earth has he done?
“I see,” she said. An invisible grip on her throat almost kept her from speaking. “Are there any other suspects? Any other suspicious forest crashers that you’ve heard about, or only Thomas? If he won’t help you, are you planning to lock him up?” The man’s dark metal handcuffs were hooked on his belt.
“No other suspects, unless someone else comes forward. It’s rather difficult to investigate now, so long after the event.”
He totally ignored the second part of her question about locking up her brother. Trouble was in the air for Thomas. “I’m sorry, Thomas went out this morning, and I haven’t seen him since. I’ll tell him you’d like to speak with him and send him to your office when he returns.”
Kerrigan dipped his chin and then pointed at a golden-brown chicken pie on the lower shelf. “With that business taken care of, why don’t you wrap that up for me. Alice deserves a night off, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes, that’s very kind of you. Just give me a second and you’ll be on your way.”
At that moment, Thomas stuck his head through the door from the kitchen looking for Charlotte. “Aunt Ethel wants to know if we’re running low on tea cakes? Should she begin a new batch—” He sna
pped his mouth shut.
Constable Kerrigan gave Charlotte an accusatory look and then waved Thomas out. “Just the fella I’m looking for this Friday afternoon. How are you today, young Aldridge? Can you please walk down to my office with me so I can have a few words with you?”
“I can’t today, Constable, I’m busy chopping wood out back. And then I have three chickens and two rabbits to butcher.” He screwed up his face. “And pluck too. Can your questions wait until tomorrow?”
“I don’t believe they can, son.” He unfastened the handcuffs from his belt and held them out. “All depends on you. Now be a good lad, and make my job easy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Having missed Emma in the stable, Beranger strode into the library, exasperated by the chase she’d given him. There wasn’t much time before tea, and he wanted some alone time with his wife. When he saw Emma seated on the sofa across from Lady Audrey, a sense of relief passed over him.
The letter! The blessed letter safe in her hands. “The letter!” he blurted. “Where did you find it?”
She jumped at his outburst, so intent on her reading.
He hurried to her side.
She looked at him and then the pages she held.
Realization dawned. “It’s not the letter from your father?”
She shook her head. “No. From Katie. Arrived today.”
He eased down next to her on the sofa and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ve let you down. I told you I’d find your letter, but I’ve yet to succeed.” He was aware of his sister sitting close by, watching, and he remembered the note she’d dropped earlier. He had no idea whether she had a friend nearby or someone whose affections she’d been courting. They’d not had any chance to become truly acquainted, and he regretted that. She was the only living sibling he had. “Lady Audrey,” he said, deciding to make the first move. “Are you and Emma getting better acquainted? I’m happy if you are.”
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