The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  With his lax posture and open features, she could nearly forget his station; he spoke to her like the butcher boy did. She made to speak but thought better of it. “I shouldn’t bother you with my problems, sir.”

  “Don’t worry about that; I asked you. Anyway, I like a bit of chatter while I look.”

  “Very well. If you insist, sir. They left not long after the funeral when she—,” Pilcrow drew in a long breath, “when she said she would no longer need us. Well, most of us. She took the butler, I think.”

  “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “My mistress hadn’t left yet. She fought with Mr. Nash all the time, always threatening to leave, but she never did. I thought she would back out this time, too. I didn’t think she would leave me behind. I thought she needed me.”

  She stared out the tall window at the view of the forest filled with crooked trees. Pilcrow bit her lip and took a step toward the lamp where books sat stacked at its feet. Grabbing a handful, she shuffled the papers into a straight pile and carefully arranged the books by size. Slow boot-treads crossed the boards and lingered only an arm’s length away. Whether it was an arm’s length or a mile, it didn’t matter. The gulf between them would never shorten.

  “I hope you don’t mind me prying, but what are you going to do now?”

  Pilcrow kept her eyes and head down as she pulled a cloth from her apron and mopped the dusty tabletop.

  “Did she give you a reference for when you look for employment? Did she at least tell you where she would be staying?”

  She shook her head.

  His voice sharpened with a tinge of anger meant for another. “Then how are you to get another job?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir. I’ve never had to get one. I’ve worked here my whole life. I don’t know how to go about it.”

  Her thin chest tightened as she raised her hand to her lips. She had said too much. Quickly apologizing, she excused herself and darted down the hall. Rounding the corner, she sunk into a niche that had once contained a vase she broke as an adolescent. After twenty years, it had never been replaced by another but served as the perfect hiding place for a maid who needed a moment of additional invisibility. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the cool, damp plaster. What was she going to do? Now that she had said it aloud, it all seemed so hopeless. No one in town would take her in after she acted as Nash’s messenger. At first, she had been curious about what her master had written, but upon seeing the volatile reactions of those she delivered them to and the weight of the coins and bills that came in reply, she made up her mind to never read them. She didn’t think she could stomach knowing so many things people longed to keep hidden.

  But why hadn’t her mistress taken her with? Her throat tightened as her face and neck grew hot. How could she abandon her to fend for herself after a life spent only in the dower house and its grounds? Over twenty years should have been enough to prove her loyalty, to prove her skill. Maybe she really wasn’t the model maid she took herself to be. Maybe she had only been kept on because her mother used to work for Nash’s grandfather at Brasshurst. When push came to shove, familial loyalty would only carry her so far. Setting Mrs. Nash’s hair, mending her dresses, writing her letters, succumbing to her abuse and rages, it all amounted to nothing in the end. With her master gone, there was nothing left for her.

  “Excuse me,” the earl’s soft voice called beside her.

  Pilcrow jumped, her back ramming into the wall as her eyes flew open to find the nobleman watching her. He quietly stepped out of the way to let her slip from the niche.

  “I would like to propose a solution to your problem. You are under no obligation to accept, but my family deserted you and I want to make it right.”

  Her eyes searched his face. “Yes, sir?”

  “My wife and I have only been married a few weeks, and she doesn’t have any staff to speak of. She has been putting it off for a while, but she needs a lady’s maid. Would you like to join us?”

  She drew in a tight breath, trying to ignore her pulse thundering in her temple. “Thank you, your lordship, that’s very kind of you, but I can find work on my own. You needn’t feel obligated to help me.”

  Eilian frowned as the maid shifted her face into a tight grin and moved as if to walk away. “It isn’t merely a sense of family obligation,” he added, hoping she would turn. “We are in desperate need of a lady’s maid. One of our chambermaid’s has been trying to help out when she can, but her skills are limited. Lady Dorset has been mending her own gowns and setting her hair. With the lifestyle she will now be living in London, I don’t quite know how we will manage without a proper lady’s maid. That was your position, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought we might have to go through an agency, but you never know who will turn up at your doorstep when you do that. It would be so much better to find someone who we know did a good job and who was only let go due to unforeseen circumstances. If Mrs. Nash returns, we will happily let you go back, but it would be a job for at least for now.”

  The words churned through her mind. Mrs. Nash had never been fond of her, but Lady Dorset had treated her like a person. That hadn’t happened often. “Would I be coming with you when you return to London?”

  “Of course.”

  Her light eyes brightened at the prospect of a fresh start. London was miles away. Anyone she ever brought a letter to would be nowhere in sight. She could finally go out when she had free time and not feel the cold stares of those who hated her for the task Nash made her perform. But doubt crept into the back of her mind. She had never been so far from Dorset before. Her whole life had been spent in Folkesbury, and London seemed so massive, so grand compared to what she was accustomed to. What if the other staff were better than her or more posh? It didn’t matter. It would still be a fresh start.

  “If you think it’s best, your lordship, then I would be honored to serve her ladyship.”

  A wide smile spread across his cheeks. “It’s settled then. Now, there’s one condition to your employment.”

  “Sir?”

  “You must help me find that journal.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Fall

  In the alcove at the bottom of the steps, Hadley Sorrell collected herself. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled her frustration. She couldn’t let Mrs. Rhodes see the petty anger in her eyes. How was she to know that her call was interrupting a lovely morning? Hadley smoothed a hair behind her ear and straightened her jacket before stepping into the great hall with a measured smile. Her guest stood with her back to her, her hand resting on the lion jutting from the hearth.

  “Mrs. Rhodes, to what do I—”

  The voice died in her throat as Leona turned. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed in red. Upon seeing the noblewoman enter, she sucked in a breath and bit back her tears. Hadley paused at the sight. Nadir Talbot’s cousin, for all of her cultivated airs in public, had seemed so strong and put together that for a moment she wondered if Patrick had been mistaken about who was there. She had heard what had happened at Nash’s funeral service, but she hadn’t been able to reconcile the two women she knew. A few strands of black hair had come loose from her bun and hung across her full cheeks. With emotion brimming behind her eyes and her blue taffeta dress, she could have been a Renaissance Madonna.

  “What’s going on? What happened?” Hadley asked, crossing the room.

  Leona Rhodes cleared her throat and straightened her spine as she met Lady Dorset’s concerned gaze. Her voice came pinched and low when she said, “It’s Nadir. He’s been arrested.”

  “For what?”

  “What do you think? For Murder.”

  “Murder? But how? That doesn’t make any sense,” Hadley sputtered, her mind reeling.

  Leona left her place at the hearth and stared the countess down with tears in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to make sense. Purcell came and arrested him all the same.”

  “But someone shot
him! Is the man insane or does this town hire imbeciles?”

  “Purcell doesn’t care who really did it. He has Nadir, and that’s all that matters.”

  Shaking her head, Hadley looked over her shoulder to confirm her coat was hanging near the door. “We need to do something. Have you spoken to the police? Do you know when the magistrate will be here?”

  “Purcell said the trial would begin in a few days, but when I tried to speak to them again, they shut me out. They won’t let me speak to Purcell or even see Nadir. I sent telegraphs to a few names I found in his datebook, but no one has sent a reply. I don’t know what else to do.” Her lips blanched as she bit them and closed her eyes. “I don’t have enough money to afford a lawyer for him, and without speaking to him, I don’t know who else to contact.”

  “You think I do?”

  “Lady Dorset, you and your husband are the only ones in town who know for certain my cousin is innocent. Isn’t there someone in London you could telegraph? Someone you could contact who would be willing to help him?”

  She met Leona’s eyes, red and sore with desperation. If it had been her brother sitting in jail, she would have done the same, but she knew no one of value. “I will see what I can do. My cousin and her husband move in circles with law enforcement. They might know someone. I will telegraph them, but right now, we need to go to that jail. Grab your coat, Mrs. Rhodes.”

  Dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, Leona shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it again. I keep picturing Nadir in there and—”

  Leona faltered, her face clenching against the emotion welling threatening to spew out. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Hadley wrapped her arm around the woman’s shoulders and steered her toward the door.

  “Now is not the time to fall to pieces, Mrs. Rhodes,” Hadley said as she pulled the bell for Patrick and handed the other woman her coat.

  Mrs. Rhodes drew in a ragged breath but resolutely pressed her lips together.

  “Your cousin needs you. Have a cry later once this is all sorted, but for now, we must fight.”

  ***

  Leaving Mrs. Rhodes safely deposited on her own sofa with a fire in the grate, Hadley sat in the idling steamer. Parked in front of the tea house, she inhaled the sweet, warm aroma of scones and tarts as Patrick looked down the road at her destination before turning back to his employer with a weary frown.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you, your ladyship?”

  “No, Pat. The less people involved the better.” The image of Eilian’s butler handcuffed and thrown into a cell flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t let that happen. Dipping her hand into her clutch, she withdrew her derringer. “Hold this while I’m gone. If I don’t come back in half an hour, go to Poole and get the authorities.”

  Patrick’s eyes widened as she dropped it into his palm. He stared at it, holding it at arm’s length before placing it gingerly on the seat beside him. Before he could ask her why he would need to fetch the authorities, she was out the door and walking toward the police station. She held her head high, fighting the stiffness in her neck and back that might alert the men inside to her true motive. At the haberdashery windows, she stopped, using the reflection to watch the two constables across the street through the windows of the old Georgian building. Purcell was nowhere in sight. Narrowly avoiding an ambling steamer cart, she crossed the road and slipped inside.

  “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” she said as the two constables’ eyes locked onto her.

  Constable Lyall flashed a smile and gave her a shallow bow from his table.

  “May we help you, your ladyship?” Constable Osgood asked flatly from the front desk, his brows furrowed.

  “I hope so.” Removing her gloves and leaning against the tall desk, she sighed. “Is Sergeant Purcell in?”

  “No, he’s in Poole.”

  She smiled inwardly at her luck. “Oh, what a pity. I wanted to ask him if he had any news about Mr. Nash’s murder. Lord Dorset and I will be leaving town in a few days, and we were so hoping to have it all sorted before we left.”

  “We arrested the murderer this morning, ma’am,” Lyall piped up from the back corner. “The magistrate will take care of him by the end of next week. What a coincidence that you stopped by today.”

  “Yes, that is quite a coincidence,” the other constable murmured.

  “Really? Who is it? I hope it wasn’t anyone from around here. That would mean the murderer was probably at my party.”

  “You’re right, ma’am, he was at the party. It’s Mr. Talbot.”

  “Mr. Talbot? But how? There has to be a misunderstanding. Mr. Talbot seemed so nice.”

  “You never know with some people. I saw them fighting not long before, too.”

  “Would it be possible to speak with him? I should really like—”

  “Nice try, Lady Dorset. I know you and Talbot are friends,” Osgood said, straightening behind the desk as he glared at her.

  “I can’t speak with him for just a moment?”

  “No. Lyall, show her ladyship out.”

  Dropping the act, Hadley waited for the lanky young man to unwrap his legs from the stool and bound over to her. Fighting back would only get her a cell beside Nadir. The constable slipped his arm into hers and gently led her out the door.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the Sergeant said not to let anyone speak to Mr. Talbot.”

  “But why?” she asked as Lyall’s head swiveled up and down the street, stopping when he noticed her steamer.

  He shrugged. “I’m just following orders. Oh, my wife wanted me to tell you how much she enjoyed your party.”

  Hadley stopped so quickly Lyall nearly ran into her. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know Mrs. Rhodes fainted and all, but—”

  “No, not that. I mean, arresting Nadir Talbot.”

  “How do you figure, ma’am? He was the last one to see Mr. Nash, and you found him near the body.”

  “Yes, but he had been shot in the head. Someone tried to kill him, too.”

  “The sergeant thinks that was self-inflicted. Mr. Talbot’s a clever one. He probably did it to throw us off.”

  “But where did he get the gun and where did it go? You didn’t find one on him or in the orangery, did you? How could he have shot himself without a gun? You should ask your sergeant about that before you toy with a man’s life.” As the constable puzzled over the gun problem, Hadley patted his arm and extricated herself from his loose grasp. “If you will excuse me, constable, I need to send a telegraph. Let the sergeant know that I will be finding a suitable lawyer for Nadir Talbot and contacting Scotland Yard.”

  ***

  Hadley drew in a deep breath. If she was to deal with Leona Rhodes again, she would need all of the composure she could muster. When she stepped through the careworn curtain, the woman’s dark eyes locked onto her, pleading for an answer. Shaking her head, Hadley settled into the seat opposite Mrs. Rhodes. Her lip quivered, but she quickly bit down on it and turned back to her needlepoint before the tears could work free.

  “I contacted my cousin in London. She or her husband should know someone. They should send a reply by tomorrow. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for Nadir, Mrs. Rhodes, but they turned me out as well.”

  “Thank you for at least trying, Lady Dorset. I don’t know how we can repay you.”

  Hadley paused, the words hanging on her lips, unable to be ignored. “I would like you to tell me the whole story. Then, we will be even.”

  Leona froze, her heart thundering in her ears. Catching herself, she shook her head and replied, “What do you mean? I told you about the silphium.”

  “I think there’s more to it. Nadir told me that the reason he was in the orangery the night of the murder was because he received a letter from Mr. Nash. I think the letter was meant for you, not him. I think Nadir suspected something as well and tried to protect you. If I am to help him, I want to know from what.”

  “What if I d
on’t tell you?”

  “Then, I will go to the police and tell them you know more than you’re letting on. If Purcell won’t listen, I will speak to the police in Poole.”

  “But I didn’t kill Randall! What happened didn’t cause that.”

  “How do I know that your cousin isn’t sacrificing himself for you? How do I know you weren’t there, hiding in the orangery waiting for him? What I do know is that Nadir Talbot didn’t murder Mr. Nash while you have been behaving strangely. It has to be something grave if you aren’t willing to divulge it to save your cousin.”

  “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter,” she cried. “Purcell’s mind is made up.”

  Leona looked up from her lap to see the countess staring at her, waiting. The only one who knew was dead. There had been so many times she felt the words on her lips, but at the thought of Nadir abandoning her for good, she stayed silent. Every choice had been hers to make. Any shame she felt came from another’s cold glare or reprobation. Soon, Lady Dorset would pack up and leave for London, and any additional scorn she felt would leave with her.

  “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else. No one else needs to know. In the end, it won’t help Nadir either.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “I do,” she snapped. “Do you promise to keep this between us?”

  “I promise.”

  “Come, we will discuss it in the study.”

  Mrs. Rhodes led her into the next room without ever looking back at the younger woman trailing behind. Motioning for Hadley to sit at Argus’s desk, Leona shut the door and leaned against it as if she feared it would be thrown open at any moment.

  “What I’m about to say can’t leave this room. My husband can never know.” Drawing in a deep breath, Leona steeled herself against what she was about to say. It had gone on for years, but to say it, was to acknowledge all of her wrongs. “Randall— Randall Nash and I were involved.”

  Hadley cringed. “You were having an affair?”