“I know what inclement means,” huffed Ada.
“I don’t,” said Allegra.
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Somerville. “Inclement weather is rainy, grey, foggy, and cloudy. This makes it difficult to see clearly, particularly after one has taken a shock,” assured Mrs. Somerville. “I applaud Miss Godwin’s sense of duty in the matter. However, we do not seem to be getting on.”
Ada was unsure as to what they were to be getting on with. Mrs. Somerville had made it clear that their visit must be seen as a purely social call, and Ada had absolutely no idea what went on at such a thing. Social interaction was Mary’s department, but even Ada could see that things weren’t going smoothly.
Still, the fuss gave Ada the opportunity to take a serious look at the fiancé. He was pale and a little oily. He was young enough, she supposed, to be courting Lizzie, but he had the thin hair of an old man, combed over the top of his head to disguise the fact. He held his hands together as though he were unsure of what else to do with them.
Jane glared at Mary until she lowered her pointing finger. Mary swallowed. “You’re perfectly right,” said Mary, “and I’m terribly sorry, Miss Earnshaw, for calling you a ghost, and for pointing so. I do so hope you can forgive me and let us begin anew.”
“Forgive you?” said Lizzie cheerfully. “It’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me. And please, all of you, do call me Lizzie. Though perhaps I have earned a nickname just now.”
“The ghost!” offered Allegra.
“The specter,” countered Lizzie dramatically, and finished with a laugh.
All this ghost business failed to amuse Mr. Brocklehurst, who looked bored.
“If you’ll excuse us, ladies. Come along, Caleb.”
“Quite right,” said Sir Caleb, snapping to. “Ladies. Delighted.”
Mrs. Somerville had settled silently into a book. Jane ceased holding her breath. Apparently Mary’s outburst had not ruined their introduction after all. Mary looked embarrassed until Lizzie rose to take her hand. “Shall we take a walk?” she asked.
“But the weather is inclement,” said Allegra—pleased with her new word.
“We shall have to take a walk indoors,” suggested Lizzie. “The house is enormous and has not had this many girls through it in a generation.”
Ada was unsure as to how she had expected things to go, but they weren’t going that way. The house smelled odd to her—not unpleasant, but not the familiar scent of home and books. Not hers. The thought of it made her arms itchy. The sound of girls echoed through the sickly grey-green hallways: Allegra’s chatter and Jane’s clucking and Mary’s smoothing things over, with whatever comments or laughter Lizzie might contribute. It was all a bit overwhelming, and was not, as far as Ada could tell, advancing their investigation.
As the girls wandered through the upper floors, Ada was distracted by a half-open door, or rather what she saw beyond it. A series of leather spines, standing at attention, row upon row.
A library.
Feeling not at all guilty for abandoning the others, Ada crept to the doorway and gave a tentative push. Rows of dark leather spines upright against dark wooden shelves, and between them, a portrait. A young man with auburn hair, finely dressed, a backdrop of ships in a harbor, and a flag—Jamaica, Ada recognized. The young Earnshaw (for surely this must be he, given his likeness to Lizzie) had the air of an adventurer. A man who had sought his fortune and found it.
“Oh!” she said, startled to discover an elderly gentleman seated in a wingback leather chair.
“Don’t shout so, child,” said the man. “My nerves, you know. My nerves.” From the quiet of his voice, it didn’t seem he really had much in the way of nerves to be complaining about them.
Ada surmised that he’d been hiding away in the library for quite some time. He looked rather in need of dusting. In his once-fine clothes neglected into shabbiness, with all the color gone out of them, he had the appearance and charm of damp newspaper.
“I was simply investigating,” said Ada.
“Investigating the library. It doesn’t do much. The books mostly just sit there.”
“I see them as standing,” Ada said.
“Don’t be bothersome, girl,” he said, although he didn’t sound particularly bothered.
“Mmm,” said Ada, scanning the spines.
History, history, and more history…Where were the books on science and mathematics? Where were the volumes written by Mrs. Somerville?
“Who are you?” the man asked in a way that seemed rude and bored at the same time.
“Ribbon,” said Ada, wondering if she had remembered to use her clandestine name upon introductions downstairs, then remembering she hadn’t. Bother. “I’m a…well, a friend of a friend of a third cousin thrice-somethinged…”
“Confound it, urchin,” he said as gruffly as he was able, which wasn’t very. “My nerves! Why do you bedevil an old man so?”
Ada wasn’t sure what he was going on about.
“I’ll be going now.” She turned to leave. While the old man was complaining, he didn’t seem to be putting much effort into it.
“Miss?”
“Mmm?” Ada had caught sight of a certain familiar spine, and was just going over to make sure it was the book she thought it was, when the gentleman interrupted:
“Do have my idle beasts of servants give you a good lunch. It can be exhausting, investigating a library.”
Ada simply stared. She could not imagine ever being exhausted in a library.
The girls were easy enough for Ada to find again—she merely followed the familiar tumbling sound of Allegra doing cartwheels in the hall.
And there was giggling.
Everyone seemed to be getting on quite well. They were hide-and-seeking in the many rooms along the corridor, only to have the game suspended when some curio was discovered, or asked about, or knocked into by Allegra. Jane seemed over the moon, getting to play in such a grand house as though she owned the place. The Earnshaw girl had apparently adopted Allegra as some kind of mascot.
Not meaning to be rude was what Ada was saying over and over in her head. Mary would like that. It was a good thing to say when other people were having fun but you simply wanted to know things and felt it was time to ask them.
“Are you actually going to marry him?” blurted Ada. The four girls turned silently to Ada, who had sort of sneaked up on them. “Not meaning to be rude,” she added, remembering.
Lizzie put her hand to her chest, and Ada wondered if she had to check to see if her heart was beating. “Sir Caleb? Yes, of course I’m going to marry him.”
“Do you want to?” Ada asked, and it was clear she couldn’t imagine the answer to be yes.
“Lady Ada!” exclaimed Jane.
“No, Jane, it’s all right,” assured Lizzie. “I suspect Cousin Mary—Mrs. Somerville—has put you onto poor Sir Caleb. Some kind of investigation.”
Ada glanced at Mary, who looked as though she’d swallowed a bug. Jane looked at the floor and started to hum, while Allegra swallowed so hard, she began to hiccup.
“Oh, I know,” said Lizzie. “The famous Wollstonecraft Detective Agency.”
“It’s not famous,” said Ada. “It’s a secret.”
“Girls solving mysteries in London? What girl in all of England doesn’t know of this secret constabulary of yours? I’m honored, Lady Ada,” said Lizzie. “Truly.”
“Hmph,” said Ada.
“Well then,” said Mary. “The cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”
“No more cats!” declared Ada.
Mary continued. “The truth of the matter is that Mrs. Somerville has some…misgivings about your fiancé and asked us to discreetly”—she stressed the word—“see if there was any substance to her unease.”
“What kind of misgivings?” asked Lizzie.
“She doesn’t like him,” answered Ada.
“Lady Ada!” exclaimed Jane.
“She did admit
she had no solid basis for her intuition,” smoothed Mary. “Can you think of anything that would have made her uneasy?”
Lizzie paused, lowering her voice. “Well, there was the dog.”
“First cats and now dogs. It would be helpful if there were some facts in this conversation,” said Ada.
“Lady Ada!” exclaimed Jane yet again.
“Do you have a fish?” Ada asked Jane.
“A fish?”
“If you had a fish, we could feed it to the cat in the bag, or I could simply smack you with it the next time you said my name,” said Ada.
“A smackerel!” said Allegra, feeling clever.
“The dog?” interjected Mary, returning Lizzie to the matter at hand.
“Well, we were walking,” said Lizzie. “Sir Caleb and Mr. Brocklehurst and I. And there was a dog, just a wee, yappy little thing—it meant no harm to anyone. And Sir Caleb…well, it did seem he wanted to kick it. I rush to say he did not, but I was under the impression he was about to, which I believe is rather much the same thing.”
“You’re making me dizzy,” said Ada, sitting down. “So Sir Caleb almost-but-didn’t kick a dog, and this made Mrs. Somerville suspicious?”
“Oh, I don’t think I told her about the dog,” said Lizzie.
All four Wollstonecraft girls gaped at this, and Lizzie turned a rosy pink.
She took a breath and said, “I apologize. I know I’m not making sense. I’ve been so very alone since Father passed. And here you all are. Your reputation precedes you, and I apologize for pretending that I did not know the purpose of your visit. But I have so enjoyed being among such amiable sisters. But as you are all extraordinary young women, and as these are extraordinary circumstances, there is quite enough extraordinariness in the room, and I shall try to make matters plain.”
“I think you need to try harder,” said Allegra.
“Indeed, and noted,” said Lizzie. “I imagine that Mrs. Somerville’s misgivings stem from the fact that my father left me a sizeable inheritance when he passed.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mary and Jane in unison.
“Thank you. It was and is quite awful. He was a devoted father. My mother died when I was young, so we were uncommonly close. You asked just now if I knew of any reason Mrs. Somerville might distrust Sir Caleb….I don’t, as I haven’t told her this, as it occurred just this morning so she couldn’t—”
“Plainer,” interrupted Ada.
“Indeed. Well, since my father’s passing, my fortunes have been managed by my uncle, Mr. Thorpe—”
“The library,” Ada guessed.
“Yes, he rarely leaves it. Anyway, he is running things until I come of age or until I marry.”
“Sir Caleb Gulpidge,” said Ada.
“Well done, Ada!” whispered Mary. Ada was generally not good with names. She’d only just learned the name of her own maid, who lived with her, so recalling the name of a gentleman Ada had just met seemed quite an accomplishment.
“He was in Jane’s book,” said Ada. Ada was good at remembering things in books.
“Well, here is the odd thing,” explained Lizzie. “Mr. Brocklehurst and my uncle have always seemed in agreement about the management of the estate, and it was they who introduced me to Sir Caleb. But just this morning, Mr. Brocklehurst suggested that I should sign my fortunes over to Sir Caleb now, in advance of the wedding. He had paperwork already drafted for me to sign. And he became extremely put out when I refused to do so.”
“But,” asked Jane, “won’t your fortune become his after you marry anyway?”
“Yes, of course. Which is part of why it didn’t seem proper,” said Lizzie.
Ada was getting a headache. There were so many variables floating about, it was getting crowded in her head. “Paper,” she said. “Ink.” Ada closed her eyes and held out a hand.
Mary fetched a piece of paper and a quill from a small writing desk near the window. The ink in the bottle was starting to dry, but its flecks and smears failed to distract Ada from taking furious notes. In the now-hushed room, all that could be heard was the scratching of Ada’s pen. Even Allegra was momentarily becalmed. Finally Ada let go of a puff of air from her cheeks, which lifted her stray brown bangs in a wave hello to the dust motes in the air.
“Is that it?” said Ada. She thrust the paper at Lizzie, who took it.
The note was a hurried scrawl.
1. Mrs. Somerville (smartest person in whole world) cousin-something to Lizzie.
2. Lizzie rich or about to be. Parents both deceased (means dead).
3. Uncle Library (Gorp? Dorp?) employer of estate manager. Somebody. Broccoli?
4. Broccoli friend of Sir Caleb. Sir Caleb engaged to Lizzie.
5. Caleb kicks dogs
6. Broccoli wants Sir Caleb to have Lizzie’s money before wedding.
7. Lizzie won’t sign money over. Broccoli mad at this.
8. Third stair squeaks.
“Well,” said Lizzie, “that is the sum of things. It does seem rather plain, presented thus. Although it’s Thorpe, not Gorp, and Brocklehurst, not Broccoli. But yes, you have the matter.” She seemed sad, as though this simple note confirmed her heart’s worst fears. “It is suspicious, isn’t it?” she asked. Then—“The third stair squeaks?”
“It does,” answered Ada.
“Is that important?”
“Just annoying,” said Ada. “What if you don’t marry him?”
“I’m afraid it’s not so simple as all of that,” answered Lizzie. Jane sighed and rolled her eyes at Ada’s failure to grasp the intricacies of Society, but Ada shot her a dirty look, so she stopped.
Lizzie continued. “Sir Caleb is a good match.”
“A baronet,” Jane chimed in, and was relieved that Ada had no more unpleasant looks for her.
“Certainly,” continued Lizzie. “He has been chosen by my uncle, and I have accepted him. The whole matter is entirely settled.”
Mary entered the fray. “But why would Mr. Brocklehurst be so eager to have you sign over the inheritance before the wedding?”
“What if there was no wedding?” Ada asked.
Lizzie looked hurt.
“Well, honestly,” Ada continued. “If you’d signed that paper, he’d have the money now and he wouldn’t have to marry you.”
“But think of the scandal!” said Jane.
“What if he didn’t?” said Ada. “What if he didn’t think of the scandal, or didn’t care about the scandal, and took all the money away and left England and never came back?”
Lizzie was visibly upset at this. “Lady Ada, I do thank you for your concern. But Sir Caleb is my fiancé, and we really mustn’t slander him in this way. It wasn’t he who suggested I sign over the estate but Mr. Brocklehurst.”
The silence proved Lizzie right. The girls knew they had taken this all too far, and supposed a man to be horrid when they had no real reason to assume so. Guiltily, they looked at the carpet and mumbled apologies.
“Come now,” said Lizzie, attempting to cheer them all up. “Here we have in our midst the second cleverest girl in all of England—”
“Second?” said Ada.
“What I mean to say is, this is no way to entertain such lovely and rare company. I suggest we go downstairs and play snapdragons.”
Mary regained her cheerfulness, and Allegra could barely contain herself at the thought of both sweets and fire. Jane too was mollified by Lizzie’s graciousness.
Only Ada seemed unrelieved.
“Second cleverest?” she asked under her breath.
Downstairs, a silver serving dish had been half filled with brandy. Into the sticky syrup were placed grapes and sugared plums, and the odd raisin, before the brandy was set on fire. The girls all dared one another to dart their fingers into the flames to pluck out the sweets. If you were quick enough and brave, you could snatch a still-flaming plum from the dish; the fruit’s flame always burned up and away from your fingers, looking much more dangerous than it act
ually was. Half the time, though, the girls would shy away at the last second, splashing their treasure back into the purple flames while the whole table broke into laughter.
Ada felt dissatisfied. She’d had no chance to ask Lizzie what the mysterious announcement might have been, and now they were too busy playing games to talk about the case. She left the table in search of Mrs. Somerville and hopefully some answers.
Down yet another grey-green corridor, past ranks of windows made of small squares of what looked to Ada like bottle glass, was the side parlor where the men, Sir Caleb and Mr. Bricabrac (Ada tried and failed to remember his name), sat smoking.
“Lady Ada,” said Mr. Brocklehurst, rising like a pumpkin from the patch.
“I was looking for Mrs. Somerville.”
“Ah yes, Mrs. Somerville. She was called away—rather urgent business, I think it was,” he replied. “She left only moments ago by carriage. I’m sure she would have conveyed her goodbyes had it not been so urgent.”
“That’s…odd.”
Sir Caleb didn’t stand but merely sat there with his pipe, a scattering of papers in his hand. Mr. Brocklehurst’s bushy eyebrows looked as though they were going to go over by themselves and strangle the baronet, so Sir Caleb hopped to his feet obediently.
“Lady Ada,” he said with a bow. “I do apologize. Lost in thought, it seems.”
“It seems,” repeated Ada, unsure as to exactly why. She caught herself staring at them intently, squeezing her own eyebrows together in hopes that some sort of clue would pop out of them. It didn’t.
She turned without proper goodbyes, which was just as well to Mr. Brocklehurst and Sir Caleb, who went back to what they were doing. Ada retraced her steps to the game. The fire was out now, a strong silver lid having been placed over the whole works and then removed to reveal the warm, sticky sweets beneath. Ada hesitated to join them, remaining outside the room.
Mary caught sight of Ada hovering there and excused herself to join her in the hallway.
The Case of the Girl in Grey Page 3
