by Sara Rosett
Sonia’s mouth naturally turned downward at the corners, giving her a continual frown. “I thought I heard your voice, Olive. You do realize you’re going to be late.”
“I’m saying hello to Peter. I’ll be along in a moment. You’re fully recovered from your illness, I see.”
“I’m much better.” Sonia’s frown deepened. “It’s terribly bad manners to keep people waiting.”
I clamped down on my rising irritation. “We’re only a few steps away from the drawing room.”
Peter tucked the book into his pocket. “Perhaps we should go now. May I escort you ladies?” He offered us his arms, and we walked on either side of him.
When we entered the drawing room, I went over to Father and Aunt Caroline, who were chatting. I’d brought down my shawl, but I wouldn’t need it. Despite the size of the room with its tall ceilings and hardwood floor, it was warm with a fire crackling in the grate. The long cut-velvet drapes were drawn, keeping out the cold. More mums filled vases around the room, but these blooms were rust and orange, which blended with the muted blue and orange tones of the Axminster carpet on the parquet.
Aunt Caroline said hello, but she seemed a bit preoccupied, which was typical of her. Usually she was thinking about painting, but I knew tonight she was focused on making sure her guests were having an enjoyable evening. I gave Father a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Father.” I was delighted to see he was looking much healthier than the last time I’d seen him. His face had filled out, and he had more color in his complexion. He’d been seriously ill, and Sonia had nursed him back to health. I might have my disagreements with Sonia, but I was grateful she’d helped Father recover.
“Hello there, my dear,” he said. “When did you arrive?”
“A little while ago.”
“I see. I’ve been in the library all afternoon. I thought I might have missed you.”
I patted his arm. “I’d expect nothing less from you.” He and Aunt Caroline were brother and sister. While they shared few physical similarities, they both had the ability to become completely lost in whatever they were working on—Aunt Caroline in her art, and Father in his writing as he worked on a Bible commentary. “Have Uncle Leo and Mr. Payne been showing you the maps?”
“Maps?”
“Mr. Payne is here to sell Uncle Leo some maps,” I said.
Father pushed up his glasses and surveyed the room, his gaze landing on Payne, who was speaking to Gwen. With her fair hair arranged in an elegant chignon and her pale pink gown bringing out the color in her cheeks, she could have been an illustration for the term English rose. “The overly enthusiastic chap with the adaptable face?” Father asked. “I had no idea he was here about maps. But come to think of it, he did question me closely today about whether or not I needed illustrations for the commentary.” Father lowered his voice. “I’m sure he’s a perfectly pleasant young man, but he simply would not stop talking. Difficult, when one is immersed in David and Goliath.”
Father had been working on his commentary for years. He was only partially through the Old Testament. “You’re up to First and Second Samuel, then. That’s excellent.” The last time I’d visited Nether Woodsmoor, he’d been writing about Joshua.
I turned to Aunt Caroline. “It’s lovely to be back here at Parkview. Thank you so much for the invitation.”
Aunt Caroline gave a little start. Her gaze had been fixed on Gwen, who was chatting with Miss Miller. Aunt Caroline shifted her full attention to me. “We’re always delighted to have you, Olive. I didn’t know if you’d be able to tear yourself away from London after all the excitement with the mummies at Mulvern House.”
“The antiquities were fascinating, but I can always find time to visit you and Father.” I glanced around the drawing room. “I half expected to see Deena’s parrot, Mr. Quigley, here this evening. I understand she doesn’t like to leave him alone.”
“No parrots in the drawing room. I’m a very accommodating hostess, but certain social boundaries should not be crossed.” She drew my arm through hers as she said, “You don’t mind if I borrow Olive, do you, Cecil?”
“Hmm? No, not at all. I’m just working out whether I should give a bit of background on the culture of the Philistines. Might be helpful to readers . . .”
“We’ll leave you to ponder it in peace, then.” Aunt Caroline guided me across the room. “Do you know what’s happened between Gwen and Captain Inglebrook?”
“I’ve no idea. Perhaps it has something to do with Inspector Longly?” The captain had joined Gwen and Miss Miller, and he must have said something complimentary to Miss Miller because she tapped him on the arm and blushed.
Aunt Caroline frowned. “I’m still put out with Violet for sending Inspector Longly an invitation behind my back. I’m sure Violet thought it was great fun, but it’s caused no end of problems.”
“You wanted to invite only Captain Inglebrook?” I asked.
“Things were progressing nicely between Gwen and Captain Inglebrook in France, but since he and the inspector arrived, the atmosphere between the two men is strained, and Gwen’s unhappy. Do see if you can find out what’s happened. You’re so good at figuring things out.”
Uncle Leo joined us, and I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He handed me a drink. “I seem to remember you like this concoction called a fizz?”
Uncle Leo was a hardy man with a thick mustache. His dark eyes were surrounded by crinkles that came from squinting across the grounds of Parkview. Map collecting was his only indoor interest. On the whole, he preferred to be striding around the estate with his dogs instead of presiding over a dinner party, but he also took his duties seriously and was a good-natured host.
“Yes, thank you.” I took a sip of the drink. It was sweet with a tang of mint, which was probably fresh from the kitchen’s herb garden.
Uncle Leo turned to Aunt Caroline. “I see what you’re doing, Caroline. Don’t send Olive out on a mission. Let her enjoy her evening.” He glanced at Gwen and Inglebrook. “These young people will sort everything out on their own without any interference from us.”
Aunt Caroline’s lips flattened into a line. “You know as well as I do that a push is sometimes required.” She was much more in favor of nudging things along in the direction she wanted them to go, while Uncle Leo had a policy of non-interference with his adult children.
“But not tonight, my dear. Leave them be.”
Aunt Caroline opened a fan that dangled at her wrist and whipped it back and forth, causing the lace around her gown’s neckline to flutter.
“This must be one of your gowns from Paris,” I said to divert the conversation from Gwen and her suitors. As Aunt Caroline, Gwen, and Violet had made their way back from the South of France, they’d stayed over in Paris so they could order new gowns. “It’s very flattering.”
“Thank you, dear. We picked up a new gown for you too. I hope you like it.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I said. Aunt Caroline and Uncle Leo had always been extremely generous to me, treating me more as a daughter than a niece.
Aunt Caroline smiled. “But I wanted to. It’s a deep purple velvet—aubergine. I have the village seamstress coming tomorrow to make a small last-minute alteration to my gown that I’ll wear to dinner. If you’d like to wear your new gown then, I can have her make any adjustments you need.” She fanned faster. “It’s close in here. And Captain Inglebrook is smoking. I’ll have a footman open a window to freshen things up. We can’t have you coughing.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Cigarette smoke often set off my asthma, but with the high ceilings and open space of the drawing room, the smoke would disperse. I’d only have trouble breathing if I inhaled the smoke, and I always avoided doing that.
Deena and Gigi entered the drawing room together. They were both dressed in red evening gowns. Gigi looked spectacular in a cherry red color that contrasted with her midnight black hair. Some women couldn’t carry off the extremely short hairstyle of the
Eton crop, but on Gigi it only emphasized her ridiculously long black lashes and her delicate features. Deena’s dress was a similar bold red, but Deena didn’t have Gigi’s milky porcelain complexion. The bold color overpowered Deena, making her narrow face look pasty and washed-out, like a sickly Byzantine saint. Deena had gone all out with her accessories. From the ruby-encrusted combs in her hair to the tips of her red T-straps, she was completely turned out in blood red.
“Nevertheless, an open window is a good idea,” Aunt Caroline said, then added, “See if you can detach Miss Miller and give Gwen a few moments with Captain Inglebrook.” Aunt Caroline went to greet Deena and Gigi, stopping to speak to Brimble, the butler, on her way across the room.
I smiled to myself. Aunt Caroline wasn’t going to be deterred from her matchmaking. I wanted to speak to Gwen anyway, so I sipped my drink and made my way across the room toward them. My path took me by Peter and Longly. “How are you enjoying your stay here at Parkview, Inspector Longly?”
“Parkview Hall is an amazing estate,” Longly said with a nod to Peter.
“It was certainly a wonderful place to grow up,” Peter said. “We can go to the maze tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain.”
“When did rain ever stop us?” I asked.
“True. Olive isn’t one to shrink away from the damp,” Peter said to Longly.
“Gwen isn’t either,” I said. “We had one hide-and-seek game in the maze during a thunderstorm. Do you remember that? Gwen won.”
“Of course I do,” Peter said. “It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”
Longly smiled, but it looked as though it was an effort. Something was definitely amiss with him.
“So a visit to the maze is on the agenda for tomorrow, rain or shine,” I said, then asked Longly, “Have you been working on any interesting cases?”
“It’s been relatively quiet.”
“Then I’m glad you could get away and join us here. I know Gwen was looking forward to seeing you.”
Longly looked as if he didn’t know what to say. “I’m delighted to be here,” he murmured as he focused on his glass, then he tossed back the drink and excused himself to get another.
“Melancholy fellow, that one.” Peter grinned at me. “I’m one to talk, I know. I’ve certainly had my share of bad days.” He looked across the room to where Longly was standing at the drinks cart. “I’m not sure he’s the best choice for Gwen, but if she likes him . . .”
“Inspector Longly doesn’t seem his normal self,” I said. “I wonder if his wound is bothering him—”
A bang ricocheted through the air.
Peter shouted, “Get down! Incoming!” A blow between my shoulder blades shoved me down. My knees crashed to the hardwood, and my face pressed into the fringe of the rug.
Chapter Four
“It was the draft from the window—”
“. . . so shocking . . .”
“. . . frightened me, too . . .”
As the jumble of words flowed around me, I pushed myself up. Peter crouched on the floor beside me. His gaze connected with mine, but no spark of recognition showed in his face. A shiver ran through me at the blankness of his stare. It was as if he looked right through me. He scanned the room, his shoulders tense, his body coiled to spring. I realized I was seeing him as he had been in the trenches—ready to fight for his life.
Sonia’s whisper was loud enough to carry across the room. “. . . how distressing . . . mortifying for Caroline . . .”
I shifted my weight off my aching kneecaps. A hand came under my elbow and helped me up. “Are you all right, Miss Belgrave?” Longly asked.
Before I could answer, Payne, who had crouched beside Peter, said in a loud voice, “It was only the door slamming, old boy. A draft, you know, from the open window. It gave me quite a scare too. Thought the Jerries were on us, for sure.”
Peter blinked as he stared into Payne’s face.
Payne put a hand under Peter’s arm and helped him up. “Hard to let those battlefield reflexes go, I know. Guy Fawkes Night is the worst for me.”
Beads of sweat had broken out along Peter’s hairline. He wiped his hand over his forehead then adjusted his tie. “Terribly sorry. I don’t know . . .” He turned to me. “I’m sorry, old bean. I didn’t mean—it seemed so real—”
“No worries. I’m fine. Truly, I am.”
A maid was already sweeping up the broken glass where my drink had shattered, and another maid was blotting the carpet.
“No harm done,” I said, ignoring the throbbing in my kneecaps. Since Peter had put on a stiff upper lip and was acting as if nothing untoward had happened, I would do the same. I knew inside, he was horrified, but he was doing his best to not show any emotion.
Payne slapped Peter on the back again. “You’ve certainly livened things up for us this evening!”
Aunt Caroline joined us, stepping between Payne and Peter. She put a hand on Peter’s arm. “Perhaps you should retire to your room . . .?”
“Of course not.” Peter squared his shoulders. “If I did that, your table would be even more unbalanced.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
Aunt Caroline studied his face for a moment, then she patted his arm. “Then let’s go in to dinner.”
I was seated between Peter and Payne at dinner. Even though Peter conversed with me and then with Miss Miller, who was on his other side, I could tell he was still shaken from the incident in the drawing room. His hands trembled as he reached for his wine, and he tensed when the footman stumbled over the edge of the rug and the spoon clattered against the soup tureen.
Payne proved to be a chatty dinner companion. I didn’t like the way he’d treated Gigi earlier, but he’d been the first person to come to Peter’s side tonight, and that action had raised my opinion of him somewhat.
He sprinkled his conversation with liberal mentions of his maps, but we also talked about the British Museum as well as the upcoming Egyptology exhibit that was slated to open at Mulvern House in a few months.
“I don’t have any maps of Egypt,” Payne said, “and that’s a shame. With all this Egyptomania, I could have made a packet from something like that.”
I waved off a refill of my wine as I asked, “Where do you get your maps, Mr. Payne?”
“I inherited my grandfather’s collection, which is what got me started. I had no use for stacks of antique maps, but I learned collectors are keen on them. I’ve become something of an antique map dealer—strictly in the amateur line. I search book shops for them and travel to country homes such as this one and purchase maps from families who are either clearing things out or who are in straitened circumstances.”
“I see. You must come across many interesting things.”
“Oh, I do. The most popular are the signed maps.” He rotated his fork. “Rudyard Kipling, Charles Dickens, that sort of thing. Those always draw the highest prices.”
“Interesting. I would think those would be extremely rare.”
“They are. They are indeed.” Satisfaction infused his tone. He smiled at me in a way that made me think of a cat who knew it had cornered a mouse. It was an odd thought to pop into my mind, and it put me back on my guard with Payne.
Our discussion petered out there, but I’d been well-trained in the social arts and resurrected the conversation with a question. “And is this your first visit to Derbyshire?”
“No, but it’s certainly a happier circumstance now than the first time I traveled here.”
“Oh?”
Payne glanced beyond me to Peter, who was still turned to Miss Miller. Payne dropped his voice slightly. “I was actually here in Parkview Hall in nineteen fourteen. I was injured.”
During the war, Aunt Caroline and Uncle Leo had transformed Parkview Hall into a hospital for the wounded. It had been much more of Aunt Caroline’s project than Uncle Leo’s. She’d put away her paints and focused solely on the hospital for two years. Uncl
e Leo had provided the funds, but it was Aunt Caroline who oversaw the day-to-day running of the hospital—something that went completely against her usual nature, but it was her bit for the war effort. At the end of the second year, she’d combined forces with another society matron. They decided a site in London made the most sense, both because the wounded wouldn’t need to travel as far and also because the recovering soldiers could be closer to more specialized care in London. In nineteen sixteen Aunt Caroline closed the hospital at Parkview Hall and transferred her attention to Lady Marsh’s London townhouse, which they transformed into another hospital.
I’d been in my early teens when the war began, and I’d pitched in at Parkview as much as Aunt Caroline would allow. Looking back, I realized she had tried to shelter me, Gwen, Peter, and Violet from the dreadful things that were happening. Aunt Caroline hadn’t allowed us to spend much time with the patients. She’d had us help in other ways, like rolling bandages or knitting socks or jumpers to be sent to the soldiers.
“I had no idea,” I said. “Does Aunt Caroline know you were once a patient?”
Payne’s mobile face shifted into an expression of reluctance. “No, I haven’t said a word. I’m sure there were so many men through here that she wouldn’t remember me.”
“You’d be surprised. She felt each person who came to Parkview deserved special care and attention. We’ve all changed in almost ten years, so you’ll have to forgive her for not recognizing you immediately.”
“Of course. I didn’t expect her to. I wasn’t here long, and . . . well, it’s from a time I try not to think about.” Payne’s glance strayed over my shoulder to Peter.
“I understand.”
“Nevertheless, I will probably join the tour tomorrow.”
“The tour?”
“Of the house. Your aunt is taking everyone around who’s interested. I would rather like to see my old room.” He rotated his glass and stared at his wine. “Being here at Parkview wasn’t like anything I imagined. We were treated like important people. There were only two of us to a room. Did you know that when I arrived, the butler wanted to know which newspaper I preferred, and if I’d have my breakfast on a tray in my room or in the dining room?” Payne shook his head as he chuckled. “Quite a change from the trenches.” He watched the candlelight’s reflection on the surface of the wine. “It was unreal. I felt as if I’d been transported to another world, like a fairy tale . . . or . . . a little corner of heaven.”
