A Design of Deceit (The Dickinson Sisters Mysteries Book 5)

by Blythe Baker

  I dared not say the words Nash and I both had been thinking. If Mr. Deventon was indeed the reason behind Lady Wilson’s illness, which Mr. Carter believed to be poisoning, it would seem that his adamant loyalty to Lord Wilson might have been the root cause. I could see that Nash did not relish the thought of it being true. It certainly made me wonder, especially after hearing what he had said to the buyer of the items, as well as how he had been so blatantly offended by Lady Wilson’s desires.

  Lady Wilson was indeed in the parlor. Seated near the fireplace with a thick book in hand, she looked up at us as we entered. Her expression became sour at once and she stared between us as if we had come in to accuse her of poisoning herself. “Where have you two been?”

  “My apologies, dear aunt,” Nash said. “Miss Dickinson and I were simply taking a stroll through the house.”

  “I thought you were to come meet me here after breakfast,” Lady Wilson said. “You did say you would.”

  “Yes, I know,” Nash said. “Which is why I have come now. But Aunt – ”

  “What has you so flustered?” Lady Wilson asked, her brow furrowing. “It is almost as if you have seen a ghost.”

  “Not a ghost,” Nash said. “But perhaps something even more troubling.”

  Lady Wilson’s eyes grew wide. “Something more troubling?” she asked. “What do you mean, dear boy?”

  Nash lowered himself into the chair across from her, his face grave. “Aunt, I have seen something strange and I believe it best the news come from me instead of anyone else.” He took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder at me for a brief moment. Visibly steeling himself, he said, “Miss Dickinson and I went into the conservatory. There we happened upon…well, something surprising.”

  “What is it, dear? Tell me, please. My nerves cannot take such delay,” she said.

  “It was Mr. Deventon,” he said. “He was there with a man I did not recognize, attempting to sell off some of your artwork, furniture, and even one of the horses. He said that it was at my uncle’s behest but then said that you were the one who had suggested it all in the first place.”

  “Well, yes, I was,” Lady Wilson said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good heavens, was that all you saw?”

  Nash said, “I heard Deventon say how displeased he was that you had suggested it, saying that it was a disgrace to your name – ”

  Lady Wilson gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “My dear boy, did you truly think that Mr. Deventon would be pleased with anything anyone did that would, as he called it, disgrace our name?”

  “No,” Nash said. “Which is why I wondered if he might have been – ”

  “The one to poison me?” Lady Wilson asked, arching her brow.

  Nash seemed to sag a bit. “I – well, yes, I worried about it.”

  Lady Wilson shook her head. “Mr. Deventon is displeased with the idea because he thinks it is unbecoming of our household and entirely unnecessary. The truth is that he knows it is indeed necessary, as we have been in need of money for some time now. He thinks that to sell our belongings is to compromise our integrity, our honor…well, you heard him say the rest. I had suggested it to your uncle some time ago and he finally decided that it was the wisest way forward, for now. It isn’t a great many items but enough to help us with some of the more unexpected expenses we have had to cover since our moving to Grangehurst.”

  “You do not think it at all possible that he – ” Nash said.

  “No,” Lady Wilson interrupted, leaning over to lay a hand on her nephew’s arm. “Deventon may be very protective of your uncle – ”

  “ – And only of my uncle – ”

  “ – But he truly does care about us both. He has spent much of his life ensuring that your uncle and I do not get ourselves into trouble in any way. He has helped us to avoid many different pitfalls that we might have fallen into over the years.”

  “Is it possible that you might be putting too much stock into Mr. Deventon’s assessment of matters?” Nash asked.

  Lady Wilson shook her head. “If you are implying that your uncle and I have put our trust in the wrong man, you are mistaken,” she said. “No, no. I love you, my dear, I do. But you must not continue to think this way. Mr. Deventon may have been displeased with me; he made that quite clear to your uncle. But I am accustomed to Mr. Deventon’s hardness. He says these things out of affection for us.”

  “Affection?” Nash asked. He sighed. “Are you certain that you are not allowing your familiarity to blind you?”

  “Nash, I do not care to remind you just how much older I am than you but I have known Mr. Deventon for nearly as long as you have been alive. If he wished me dead before now, I am certain he would have already seen to it. And I do believe that he would not subject me to a slow, tortuous sort of death, either. He would likely end my life quickly and concisely.”

  My eyes widened. To speak so frankly…

  Nash shook his head. “Then I suppose I must apologize. I was far too quick to jump to accusations.”

  I glanced sideways at him. He appeared to accept his aunt’s opinion on the matter easily enough but I had my doubts. It seemed to me that Lady Wilson’s instincts in where to place her trust had been terribly wrong in the past. I hoped this wasn’t another occasion where she failed to sense danger in one of those closest to her.

  “It is perfectly understandable, given the situation in which we find ourselves,” Lady Wilson said. “I should very much like to find who this might be, as well…”

  My heart sank. Did she suspect more than we realized about the poisoning?

  “Did Mr. Carter tell you?” Nash asked.

  “Begrudgingly,” Lady Wilson said, holding her head high. “After much prying. He seemed to think that someone did not wish for me to know about the poisoning.”

  She spoke the word so casually, as if it were not happening to her.

  “We did not wish to distress you unnecessarily. Mr. Carter said that he is not entirely certain,” Nash said. “Until a doctor has confirmed the idea, it is possible that he is wrong – ”

  “I do not believe that I am, Mr. Greenwood.”

  I turned and saw Mr. Carter had entered the room, lingering near the doorway, as if not wishing to interrupt.

  “How can you be so certain now when you were unsure just an hour ago?” Nash asked, eyes narrowing.

  “Nash, do be quiet and give the man a chance to speak,” Lady Wilson said. “What have you discovered, Mr. Carter?”

  Mr. Carter strode into the room, a look of determination on his face. “I have finished my investigations in the kitchens, my Lady,” he said. “I am sorry, but at the same time, quite pleased that I was unable to locate anything that might be poisoning you.”

  “The kitchens…” Nash said. “A reasonable place to look, I suppose.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Carter said. “I imagined that someone must be poisoning her food. It would surely be the easiest way to consistently administer the poison.”

  “Yes…” Nash said. “And you found nothing?”

  Mr. Carter shook his head. “Nothing. The cook and his staff all seem honest and there is not a trace of anything that could be slowly taking its toll on Lady Wilson as seems to be happening.”

  “It isn’t at all possible that the killer might have simply hidden their tracks well?” I asked.

  Lady Wilson and Mr. Carter turned to look at me, Lady Wilson with an expression of shock and Mr. Carter with one of curiosity.

  “If this person is deliberately taking their time at poisoning her in small doses, then surely they would be thinking through just how to do so without being caught,” I said.

  “Quite true, Miss…Dickinson, was it?” Mr. Carter said. “You know, you look a great deal like a woman I met here not terribly long ago. I believe her name was also Dickinson. She wouldn’t, perhaps, be related to you, would she?”

  “That would be my sister, Mr. Carter,” I said.

  He smiled. “I remember her, yes,” he
said.

  “This is all well and good but are we any closer to learning the identity of the person who is poisoning me?” Lady Wilson asked.

  “Believe it or not, we are,” Mr. Carter said. “Narrowing down the avenues is a valid way of finding the culprit. And I shall continue to pursue that person.”

  “Very good,” Lady Wilson said. “Then you all may go.”

  “Aunt, I should like to request an audience with you for a few moments. Alone, if that would be suitable.”

  She gave Nash a curious look. “Yes, I suppose. What is it that you wish to speak with me about?”

  He glanced over and gave me one of his kind smiles. “Iris, I shall only be a short while.”

  I inclined my head. I knew when I was being asked to leave, albeit politely. “Then I shall excuse myself,” I said.

  “I shall come find you when we are through,” Nash said.

  I stepped out of the parlor, my heart weighing heavily. Why did it disappoint me when Nash asked to speak with his aunt alone? I knew it could be about any number of family matters but something within my heart wondered what, precisely, he wished to say to her that he did not wish to say in front of me…

  Mr. Carter followed me out and closed the door behind him.

  “You seem to have some insight into these matters,” he said. “Tell me…what do you think of what is occurring here and now?”

  “Why do you ask me?” I asked.

  “Why not? I see no reason why two intelligent people should not put their heads together,” Mr. Carter said. “Has anything seemed strange to you? It is clear that you know the family, at least better than I do as merely an acquaintance.”

  “That is all I would consider myself to be,” I said.

  Mr. Carter grinned. “Ah, but what of young Mr. Greenwood?”

  My cheeks turned pink. “Oh, well…”

  He smiled, letting out a small laugh. “Yes, well, I suppose that is none of my business, as we know one another so little. Nevertheless, consider me impressed with your knowledge. I suppose if we are to be stranded here during this storm together, can I perhaps trust you to assist me in some small way with my investigation?”

  “I certainly could try,” I said.

  “Very good,” he said. “My next step will be to speak with Lady Wilson’s closest members of staff. Namely Mr. Hornsby, as well as the housemaids.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” I said. “As you said there was no evidence in the kitchens of someone poisoning her?”

  He nodded. “As far as I could tell. If I run into dead ends, I shall return there to inspect further. I heard that Mr. Shaw, the man who died not long ago, was killed by a member of staff and that it took reexamining his home several times to find the cause?”

  “Indeed. It was my sister who discerned the truth,” I said.

  “Ah, yes. Your sister struck me as a sharp one when I met her.” Mr. Carter’s smile grew before he changed the subject abruptly. “Very well, Miss Dickinson. I shall go and find this Hornsby. I am certain he will be helpful, most vital to our investigation.”

  “Our investigation?” I asked. “Surely, Mr. Carter, this is what Lord Wilson hired you for.”

  “Yes but I would be remiss not to request the involvement of one who knows more about all parties than I,” he said. “Many hands make light work, isn’t it said? You shall be compensated for any assistance you give, of course.”

  “Very well,” I said. “While you speak with Hornsby, do you wish for me to speak with the maids?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Carter said. “And I believe it to be most advantageous that you happened to be here at the very same time as I, as speaking with the young women will surely be…well, perhaps seen as a bit presumptuous. Even inappropriate to some. I hardly know Lord Wilson and for him to find me speaking with his female servants, I fear he might come to the wrong conclusion.”

  “I certainly can understand,” I said. “I shall assist you, Mr. Carter, for I should like to help Lady Wilson to overcome whatever this is that ails her.”

  Mr. Carter nodded. “Let us reconvene in say…one hour?”

  “An hour should be plenty of time,” I said.

  “Very good,” he said. “Then I shall bid you farewell for now.”

  “You as well, Mr. Carter. May we learn all we can for Lady Wilson.”

  He turned gracefully and started down the hall back toward the parlor where Lady Wilson resided.

  I made my way to the stairs, hoping to come across one of the maids as quickly as I could.

  The fear that I had experienced during the incident of Mr. Ingram’s murder returned, the same fear that made me realize the killer would surely know by now that we were searching for him or her. What if, in a panic, the guilty party decided to end Lady Wilson’s life prematurely and we were unable to save her?

  This situation was uniquely dangerous, as the victim still lived. That meant we had to act quickly. We had to find out who it was that wished for her death.

  I turned down the hall that housed Lady Wilson’s quarters, as well as the guest room that I had stayed in the night before. The longer the day dragged on with the snow still falling relentlessly, the more it seemed I might be staying yet another night.

  I peered inside my guest room, noticing the bed had been made up, everything having been returned to its place. The room seemed still, however. The maids had already come and gone, having moved on to other duties they surely had.

  I pursed my lips, looking up and down the length of the hall. Would any of them appear if I called for them? Was there a bell somewhere that I might ring to summon them? I found myself lacking the proper knowledge of how a great household worked with servants in residence.

  I did not have a great deal of time and wished to be able to bring Mr. Carter some sufficient information.

  Once more, my thoughts wandered back to Nash, who was still likely down in the parlor with his aunt. What could they possibly be speaking about –

  A door at the end of the hall opened and a pair of maids strode out.

  My heart leapt.

  “Oh, Miss Dickinson,” one of the young ladies said. She had auburn hair and a pretty face. She curtsied low to me. “I had hoped to meet you when you were awake.”

  My face colored.

  “I do not wish to embarrass you, certainly,” the young woman said, her hair bouncing as she dipped her head in apology. “I simply meant that I have hoped to make your acquaintance.”

  “Yes, well,” I said. “It is nice to meet you…?”

  “Margot,” the maid said, laying a hand over her heart. “And this is Gertrude.”

  “Honored, Miss,” the maid beside her said, her face paling with nervousness.

  I realized word must have spread among the staff about a seamstress spending the night under their employers’ roof. They must be curious about me. I doubted they would have so easily approached a guest of prominence but my lowly position made them comfortable with me. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage…

  “The pleasure is mine,” I said. “I realize that you both are likely quite busy but is there any way that I may have a word?”

  The girls looked at one another. “This feels terribly familiar…” Margot said, her eyes narrowing. “Another woman like you came snooping around here looking for information after the death of Mr. Shaw.”

  “That would be my sister,” I said.

  “I thought you looked like someone I had seen before,” Gertrude said.

  “Go on, then,” Margot said. “Ask away.”

  I cleared my throat, suddenly fearing that the proper questions would elude me, put on the spot as I was. “Lady Wilson seems to be experiencing trying times as of late,” I said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Margot shrugged her shoulders, tucking the tray she carried underneath her arm. “I know she complains of a stomachache on most days,” she said. “But I always assumed it was simply because she is growing old.”

  “
Margot,” Gertrude hissed under her breath.

  “It is no secret that Lady Wilson is not as young as she once was,” Margot said, raising her hands defensively. “I do not believe I should apologize for saying so. It is perfectly natural that she desperately tries to hold onto her youth. A woman’s beauty is her pride, is it not? For some more than others.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. It seemed I might as well learn all I could about the Lady’s regular habits.

  “Oh, she has a full routine set aside before she ever sets foot downstairs in the mornings,” Margot said. “It has become quite lengthy, wouldn’t you say, Gertrude?”

  Gertrude looked as if she would rather the floor split apart and swallow her whole than participate in the conversation.

  Margot continued. “She sends for the newest and latest fashions, for everything from clothing to creams and lotions. Every morning, she must paint her face and apply the powder her personal maid procures…”

  Margot wrinkled her nose when she spoke of the Lady’s maid.

  “Is there something wrong with the maid?” I asked.

  “Oh, there is nothing wrong with Francine,” Gertrude said, shaking her head. “She is kind enough. It is simply that she is young and pretty and has become Lady Wilson’s favorite in the last year or so. Perhaps others are a bit jealous…”

  A favorite? I reflected upon the young maid standing off along the wall in Lady Wilson’s room the day before. I had heard of noble women taking young girls under their wing and turning them into companions. The jealousy these other servants felt was clearly a reflection of wanting that sort of treatment for themselves.

  It made me wonder how this Francine felt about being the favorite.

  “Lady Wilson loves that powder so much that Francine spent all her savings to replace it just last week,” Margot said. “It is ridiculous, of course. A powder is not going to make our Lady any younger.”

  Something clicked in my mind.

  “You said Lady Wilson uses this powder every day?” I asked.

  “Several times,” Gertrude said. “Every time she changes for a meal or for an outing, she applies more. She swears it is the reason for her…flaws, shall we say, disappearing almost entirely.”