In the Shadow of Croft Towers

by Abigail Wilson

“You are doing splendid,” Miss Ellis said as we passed each other.

  And I was. Perhaps it was possible to meet my obligations of companion and spare dancer tolerably well, even with the alluring Mr. Cantrell.

  Miss Cantrell stopped and the set broke up. “I’m sorry, but I am unwell.”

  Mr. Sinclair sprang to his feet and helped her to the sofa. Watching his swift reaction, I wondered if what Miss Ellis had said about the two of them was true. He was so attentive, procuring her a glass of water. He spoke quietly. “You’ve overdone yourself today. A long walk and now dancing. You may not be quite recovered from your cold.”

  Mr. Cantrell sounded cross. “Nonsense. That was over two weeks ago. Don’t tell me you’ve something else, for I swear you’re sick every time we turn around. I should employ a full-time doctor.”

  Miss Cantrell waved off her brother, the color returning to her cheeks. “No, I’ve nothing new. I’m quite all right now. Please, continue your lessons without me.”

  Now it was Miss Ellis’s turn to act vexed. Her voice came out in a whine. “But how can we do so with only three people?”

  Mr. Sinclair flicked his gaze upward. “This dance lesson, or whatever it is you call it, can resume at a later time.”

  “No.” Miss Cantrell touched Mr. Sinclair’s arm, unable to take her eyes off her brother. “I will play and you can take my place in the dance.”

  Mr. Sinclair gave a slight head shake. “Are you sure you are feeling well enough to do so? I think it better if you were to lie down.”

  “I am not a child, and I shall be perfectly content to play if you would help me over to the bench.”

  “Excellent.” Mr. Cantrell stepped back into his place in the set. “We shall all be happy now.”

  I wished I could have agreed with such a sentiment, but everything about the previous interchange had left me unsettled. What was wrong with Miss Cantrell? And did a familiarity exist between her and Mr. Sinclair? It was certainly none of my affair, but if he proved to be a danger to the house . . .

  Miss Ellis shot me a wink. She had not forgotten her quest to ask about the gown. “Lucius, my dear, would you partner with me this go-around?”

  His smile retreated, but he nodded nonetheless. “Of course. I would be happy to.”

  Mr. Sinclair slowed his steps as he approached, meeting my eyes. “I suppose that leaves the two of us.”

  “Yes. I suppose it does.”

  He took his place next to Mr. Cantrell, standing several inches taller than his blond friend. Mr. Sinclair’s dark jacket faded into his black hair, making his eyes that much more vivid. It had been four days since he’d saved my life in Reedwick and we’d learned of the murder. All of a sudden I realized I had been avoiding him. Why?

  Mr. Sinclair and I had shared a sort of intimacy that day in the woods after I fell into the brook and then again in town. I wasn’t sure I was ready to revisit the memory. Surely it clouded my emotions where he was concerned. For the man wasn’t to be trusted—let alone thought of at all.

  I forced myself to meet his gaze, but I couldn’t read what I saw in his eyes—boldness, tension, or something else, something predatory?

  The music began with a loud chord and I jumped. Mr. Sinclair motioned with his chin, indicating it was I who was to move to the left. Snapped back to the present, I set the first figures as well as I could remember. Round him I swayed, then paused to watch his turn.

  For a man who despised the practice, he danced beautifully, closing to meet me as we passed down the line, only to start again. I noticed he held a smile I’d not seen before, one that transformed his features. It was interesting that dancing became him even more so than riding, or robbing for that matter.

  He hid a subtle side to those dark features, the way his eyes lit when he talked, how uncommonly attractive he was in his own way. No wonder Miss Ellis considered him a catch, although I doubted many people saw this side of him, as guarded as he always was. But I had seen more of him—in Reedwick when he’d defended my honor and in the cottage when he’d been so kind and gentle.

  All at once, I could think of nothing but the touch of his gloved fingers, the closeness of the dance, the warmth of my cheeks. My heart felt light, my legs unsteady until the pianoforte held the last note. There I was caught in Mr. Sinclair’s gaze, unable to turn away.

  Miss Ellis giggled and the spell was broken.

  Mr. Sinclair bowed. “I don’t believe you need any more lessons. You dance lovely, Miss Delafield.” Then he turned and walked from the room.

  I closed the collection of Byron’s poetry as Mrs. Chalcroft’s eyes fluttered shut. The bracelet Lord Stanton had sent me dangled around my wrist, now cold on my arm.

  “You’re troubled.” Mrs. Chalcroft raised her chin. “What is it?”

  I didn’t know she was watching me. “Just puzzled, I suppose.”

  “Tell me, child.”

  “I find my thoughts a bit difficult to put into words at times. I wonder if it isn’t the murder, as it seems to hang over the entire house.” I met her gaze. “I’m afraid I cannot stop thinking of it. Poor Thompkins. Struck down before she had a chance to make something of her life.”

  She took my hand. “I daresay we all struggle with when and how the future will find us. The girl must have had a dismal life working for that woman. Her death may have had nothing to do with the Towers at all.”

  “True, but sudden death, in such a personal and horrid way. It makes one question one’s own path—when it will end and what you are doing in the meantime.”

  She took a sip of water. “The more difficult the journey, the sweeter the reward.”

  I listened to the steady click of the mantel clock for a long moment, processing her words. “And life itself is so confusing at times. People are not always as they first appear. Moments of our own journeys seem meaningless at one point, then later of great consequence. It is difficult to know if you are making the right decisions, no matter how hard you work to do so.”

  “Yes, but we must live nonetheless.” Mrs. Chalcroft tapped her coverlet. “Take the word of an old woman who has made a great many mistakes. No one promises us a perfect life, my dear. You must do the best you can with what you’ve been given.”

  A perfect life? Was that what I meant? I pressed my lips together. “I suppose Mr. Sinclair would say I should look beyond my own troubles and find a way to use my talents for the greater good.”

  “He said that to you, child?”

  I nodded, suddenly wishing I hadn’t brought up his name.

  “He is a discerning man. And thoughtful. I daresay I wouldn’t take anything he suggested lightly.”

  The clock pinged the hour, and I flew to my feet. “Goodness. It’s far later than I thought, and I still need to dress for dinner.”

  “One moment, please, my dear.” Mrs. Chalcroft reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a sealed envelope. “You must take this with you to the dance tomorrow and deliver it to a friend. His name is Mr. Aberdeen.”

  Another letter. My heart sank. Yet, I’d seen that name before.

  She licked her lips. “This is personal and important. Can I trust you to deliver it in secrecy?”

  So many questions filled my mind, but I could give voice to none. Who was I to question my employer? I hesitated to answer, caught in the pleading warmth of her gaze. Somehow, within the confines of the long afternoons, our reading sessions had taken on new meaning. My peculiar employer had slipped into the role of an elderly friend—like Mrs. Smith in a way, but different. I took the letter and nodded.

  A wrinkled smile crept across her face. “I’m thankful every day you came to the Towers.”

  15

  The night of the dance proved even colder than expected. The dark, evening wind whistled through the trees as the horses pulled off the road and into Plattsdale’s main square. Streetlamps lit the coach for seconds at a time before fading from view. The chill silence gave way to laugher somewhere beyond as the hors
es approached the inn.

  Smashed between Miss Ellis and Miss Cantrell, I couldn’t help but envy Mr. Cantrell and Mr. Roth who looked far more comfortable in their heavy coats. Particularly Mr. Cantrell. I took a deep breath, trying in vain not to meet his eyes, but he’d chosen the seat across from me, making it all the more difficult. He stretched out his long legs a few inches from mine as we waited for the door to open.

  I returned his quick smile all the while guarding my thoughts. What was it about Lucius Cantrell that kept my heart in anticipation? His confidence? His marked attentions? I was in no way his equal, yet . . . time and again I’d found myself thrown into his intimate company, particularly when I’d set out to avoid him. Was there more to his attention than mere pretense? Was there more . . . to us?

  Miss Ellis bumped the window as she fought for a view of the entryway. “Oh. There is but one coach ahead of us in line.” She shot a quick glance back at Mr. Cantrell. “It is just as I feared. We are probably the last to arrive.”

  Miss Cantrell huffed. “Which is exactly why Lucius delayed us at the Towers. And I for one am glad of it. I deplore long waits.”

  I gripped my fingers inside my muff. The less of the evening I had to endure the better, but I had promised Mr. Cantrell the first two dances. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  “And look. There is Mr. Sinclair,” Miss Ellis said, a shrill of excitement in her voice. “So he had time to come from the Phillips’s after all. And he would come alone in what looks to be a hired carriage. I’m surprised he’s not on horseback.”

  Miss Cantrell’s arm relaxed at my side, and strangely, mine did as well. Whatever tension I’d felt in the drawing room with Mr. Sinclair the other day must have been mere fancy. I knew now I was glad of his presence, even if it meant I would have to be discreet while delivering Mrs. Chalcroft’s letter.

  Mr. Roth tapped his cane on the floor of the coach. “What the deuce is taking so long? Cursed nuisance if you ask me . . . all this”—he flicked his fingers in the air—“dancing . . . and whatnot.”

  Mr. Cantrell laughed. “I wonder why you came at all, Henry.”

  Mr. Roth grunted. “Just so.”

  The carriage lurched forward and came to rest beneath the inn’s slight portico. A man in dark-blue livery yanked open the door, and the scent of rain and woodsmoke greeted us.

  Mr. Roth rolled his eyes. “That is all we need now. A downpour.”

  “Oh hush.” Miss Ellis took the servant’s outstretched hand, glancing up as she stepped from the coach. “There are plenty of stars about. It shall be a glorious night, free of doom and gloom if you’d only control your tongue.”

  Mr. Roth pulled his jacket tight about his neck and followed her descent, muttering to himself. Mr. Cantrell slipped out quickly behind him, turning at the last second to assist Miss Cantrell and me. Clear of the coach, he settled my hand on his arm before offering the other to his sister. “Shall we?”

  A spark of nervousness mixed with genuine excitement as we made our way inside. I took care with my steps, cautious of the white crape evening gown and silver-lined shawl Portia found in the wardrobe with the other gowns. Mrs. Chalcroft had been more than generous. My fingers sought the pearl cross necklace she insisted I borrow for the dance. It lay perfectly situated above the celestial-blue bodice of the gown.

  The front door whooshed closed behind us, my feet sliding across a well-tended wooden floor. The sudden warmth brought a smile to my lips. Beyond a grand fireplace, two wide doors parted into a galleried room. However, even rising to my tiptoes, I couldn’t see beyond the droves of people. Miss Ellis had been right. Late arrivals indeed.

  At first, people took little notice of us, still fawning as they were over the unexpected pleasure of Mr. Sinclair’s arrival. Only the best greeting for the next Earl of Stanton. But within minutes, the roar lessened and people observed our group, Mr. Cantrell being a fine catch himself.

  We made our way across the floor, where the blur of satin and lace focused into gentlemen and ladies. I recognized Mrs. Carrington and Mr. Radbourn from my trips to town, but there were so many people I didn’t know. How would I ever find the mysterious Mr. Aberdeen?

  Miss Cantrell deserted us as we neared Mr. Sinclair, grasping his arm and whispering into his ear. He looked a bit distressed at her hasty movements but paused to listen before grasping her hand and circling the room. Within seconds they escaped through a back door, which led onto a large terrace and gardens, as I later learned.

  I remained perched at Mr. Cantrell’s side watching them go, first with a mild curiosity then a modest interest. The gestures they had shared, the light touches, the whispers, all spoke of an intimacy I’d not witnessed before. One more secret to add to the ever-changing Mr. Sinclair.

  Hmm. Quickly, I thought back through our conversations. Had there been something I missed? Was there more to his relationship with Miss Cantrell?

  No. Mr. Sinclair had never mentioned her in any sort of way to make me believe him interested. But perhaps there was an attachment I was ignorant of. Had not Miss Ellis thought the same? And if so, was Miss Cantrell aware of the time Mr. Sinclair had spent with me? Of the things he had said and done? Of course, I could claim no romantic connection. But there was something between us—a sort of loyalty carved from that fateful night in the rain and the confidences I still bore.

  “Are you nervous?” Mr. Cantrell asked, giving my hand a pat.

  I hoped he hadn’t seen me lost in thought, or worse, watching Mr. Sinclair and Miss Cantrell escape. I tried a smile. “A little I suppose, but I am pleased Mrs. Chalcroft insisted I come.”

  “Good.” He winked. “Because I daresay it won’t be long before every eye in the room will be on you.”

  “Me? But why?” I sought to hide the waver in my voice, but Mr. Cantrell had a look in his eyes that startled me.

  “Surely you know, my dear.”

  “Know what?”

  He laughed, but I hadn’t meant to amuse him.

  “That I have brought with me the most beautiful lady in the room. And, my darling Miss Delafield, all these people will want to know the person who has found a way to capture my attentions at last.”

  I took a quick breath, my eyes widening, the same moment the orchestra in the balcony struck a chord, signaling the start of the first dance.

  Mr. Cantrell took my arm, a fastidiousness to his movements. “Come, let us enjoy the moment.”

  I’m not sure whether I walked or stumbled onto the dance floor. I couldn’t have looked anything but shocked as I forced myself to turn the figures. Capture his attentions? The man couldn’t be serious. Could he?

  But he said no more about it nor acted the least bit partial through either of the dances, which unfortunately had come to be the way with us. One minute serious, the next humorous, all the while Mr. Cantrell horribly unreadable.

  Almost at once I began to question whether I had even heard him correctly. He cast me a determined glance as I passed him on the floor, but I couldn’t rest secure in his affections. Something didn’t feel right.

  As if he meant to confuse me further, he deposited me at Miss Ellis’s side at the close of the second number and went to dance with the other beautiful ladies in attendance. Miss Ellis made some offhand remark about how it was Mr. Cantrell’s role to humor the local residents, but I thought it far more likely that like all men, he could be turned by a pretty face.

  I was glad of his distance, however, as it gave me precious time to gain my bearings and, more importantly, seek out Mr. Aberdeen and relieve myself of the letter burning in my reticule. Regardless of Mr. Cantrell’s sudden declarations, I had no intention of shirking my duty to Mrs. Chalcroft. It was she who had arranged my being here in the first place.

  Within minutes Miss Ellis had a partner for the next dance and I was free to roam without notice, though I found myself disappointed at every turn. Unsure who Mr. Aberdeen was or who I could deem safe enough to ask, my cautious searching turned up n
othing. Apparently the man was not well-known in the district. I began to wonder if he was present at all.

  I hovered in the corner where I could get the best look at the room. Mrs. Chalcroft had described him as an older gentleman, his hair thinning, his sideburns gray, his mouth unpleasant. Like a hawk, I studied each gentleman from the shadows of a pillar.

  “Are you engaged for the next dance?”

  My cheeks warmed, caught lurking as I was. Slowly, I glanced up to find Mr. Sinclair towering over me. My nerves were on edge, and I almost laughed. Of course I was free. After my dance with Mr. Cantrell, no one seemed the least interested in taking a turn with the local companion. But Mr. Sinclair wouldn’t know that. He’d been missing since Miss Cantrell urged him away. The thought did little to recommend him.

  I smiled. “I am not. And you? Have you had many partners this evening?”

  He gave me a look as if he knew quite well I’d been keeping tabs on him, then offered his arm. “I don’t mean to disappoint you if you had hopes of a quadrille. I’m not proposing a dance just now.” He motioned with his head. “I need an excuse to step onto the terrace. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

  I stared at him for a moment, then glanced back toward the French doors—the ones Miss Cantrell had pulled him through at the beginning of the evening. What did he want with me out there?

  Mr. Sinclair let out a long breath. “I need your help, and at the moment, I fear you are the only one I can trust.”

  Cautiously, I answered, “All right, but I don’t wish to cause a stir. For any reason.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It will only further your intrigue to be seen taking a breath of fresh air with me. Lucius has spent the last hours singing your praises.”

  My back stiffened. “I don’t know why. I’ve given him no cause to do so.”

  We reached the French doors and Mr. Sinclair pushed them open. “Haven’t you?”

  “No.” My eyebrows drew together. “I have not.”

  He seemed to relax. “If that is the truth, then let me be honest.” He took a deep breath. “I find his sudden attachment to you a bit hard to believe.”