Playing the Part

by Jen Turano

  “I can’t, because I have no idea where that necklace came from, or who might have stashed it in the fireplace.”

  “What about the sword?”

  “What about it?”

  Ruby rolled her eyes again. “Now you’re just being difficult.”

  “I might be a little difficult, but I can assure you, I’m not doing anything illegal, nor have I been pursuing a life of crime since I left university.”

  “Fine, don’t answer the question about the sword. We’ll talk of your personal life instead.” She smiled grimly. “What are you going to do to win Lucetta’s favor?”

  “What are you going to do to draw Mr. Grimstone’s interest or even discover who he is?” he countered.

  For a moment, Ruby looked as if she wanted to continue arguing with him, but then her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “I was hoping Lucetta could introduce me to him, but oddly enough, she’s never met the man, even though he wrote The Lady in the Tower specifically for her. Now I’m not sure how to proceed. Although . . . would you find it curious if I develop feelings of an affectionate nature for a gentleman who doesn’t possess a fortune, or speak very much, for that matter?”

  “Speaking can be overrated, and . . . you have been known to speak enough for three people, but . . . we’re not talking about Mr. Skukman now, are we?”

  Ruby’s face turned just the slightest shade of pink before she shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I barely know that man. But getting back to another man that no one seems to be familiar with—Mr. Grimstone—do you think it might be possible that when he penned The Lady in the Tower he had an unrealistic impression of Lucetta as well?”

  “I’m not certain I’m following you.”

  “Well, the character Lucetta is playing, Serena Seamore, is fragile, sensitive, and dissolves into tears three times during the play. Since Mr. Grimstone has let it be known that he wanted Lucetta, and only Lucetta, to play the part of his Serena, doesn’t it stand to reason that he wrote the play with her in mind all along, and that he wrote the part exactly how he believes Lucetta really is—delicate and in need of a protector?”

  “It almost sounds as if you no longer care for the character Lucetta has been hired to play.”

  “Well, I still find Mr. Grimstone’s writing to be brilliant, but as I’ve been thinking about him so often of late, and thinking of his work, I’ve finally realized what would make him more brilliant in my humble opinion.”

  Bram frowned. “I quite enjoy the work he’s done on The Lady in the Tower.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but if you consider his whole body of work, the themes of his stories are remarkably the same. The hero is always the rescuer, the heroine is always the victim in need of rescuing, and there’s always a great deal of swooning and tender feelings going on. I mean, if you consider the matter, it’s no wonder Lucetta thought to swoon when faced with Mother for the first time, since she’s spent so much of her time swooning on stage.”

  Ruby drew in a seemingly needed breath of air and continued. “Quite honestly, I believe Mr. Grimstone needs to write a novel, or another play, with the heroine as a strong, independent lady, one who is perfectly capable of saving herself. She will then, of course, meet a gentleman she can love, and together, they save the day before riding off to their happily ever after.”

  Bram felt his mouth drop open as everything he’d thought he believed or knew shifted.

  He’d been so convinced that Lucetta was a victim in the play called Life that he’d completely neglected to take the time to see past his misconceptions.

  She was not searching for a knight in shining armor, she was searching for a partner, someone she could share her experiences with—not someone who’d want to take over her life and make everything easy for her.

  Miss Lucetta Plum was certainly not a lady who would enjoy easy, at least not all of the time. She was too complicated, too accomplished, and too intelligent to live a life of mundane pleasantness.

  She was also a lady who deserved an equal partner, not a gentleman who wanted to set her up on a shelf, away from the messiness of living, something he’d been determined to do.

  “That’s exactly where I’ve been going wrong, and why I haven’t been able to . . .” He stopped when he realized he was speaking out loud, and with Ruby sitting by his side.

  Knowing he needed to get right to work, while the inspiration was still flowing through his thoughts, he rose to his feet. Pulling Ruby up beside him, he sent her a smile.

  “I know you’re going to find this curious, but I have to bid you good day.”

  “Right this very minute?” Ruby asked slowly.

  “Right this very minute.”

  “What about all of the ladies who are hoping to see you this afternoon?”

  “They’re going to be disappointed.”

  “What should I tell Mother about dinner? She’s expecting all of us to sit down together, because I think she wants to question you about your chosen path in life.”

  “The questioning will have to wait, but do extend everyone my sincerest apologies. And if Mother badgers you about why I’m unavailable, tell her a matter of urgent business has arisen that I have no choice but to address.” Giving Ruby a kiss on the cheek and leaving her with a very confused expression on her face, Bram headed for the castle, anxious to get back to work.

  14

  To say that matters had gotten a little peculiar at Ravenwood was a bit of an understatement.

  Lying in the enormous canopied bed that was the centerpiece of the tower bedchamber, Lucetta pulled the counterpane up to her nose as she debated whether or not she truly wanted to chance life and limb by trying to get off a bed that was several feet from the floor.

  Granted, there was a set of steps a person could use to get on and off the bed. But since the gas lamp Lucetta had intentionally left burning in the abutting bathing chamber seemed to have been extinguished, negotiating those steps in a pitch-black room was not an option she wanted to embrace.

  However, when another mournful moan rang out, followed by what seemed to be the clinking of armor, Lucetta pushed aside her trepidation and flung back the counterpane. Scooting along until she felt the edge of the bed, she swung her legs over that edge and jumped.

  Landing harder than she’d intended, she limped across the room, keeping her hands out in front of her as she tried to find the door. Running into that door a moment later, she fumbled for the doorknob and gave it a twist. Relief was immediate when she opened the door and saw that moonlight was flooding the sitting room, making it possible to see. Her relief was short-lived, though, when a suit of armor suddenly sauntered into view, swinging a battle-axe.

  Raising a hand to eyes evidently seeing things that weren’t there, Lucetta gave them a good rub but found when she returned her attention to the situation at hand, there was still a suit of armor in front of her. Edging slowly backward, she stopped when the suit of armor turned her way, sent her a nod, and then, as calm as you please, continued across the sitting room, only to disappear through the door that led to the tower staircase.

  A loud crash had Lucetta jumping almost out of her skin, until the thought came to her that the crash might have just been the suit of armor running smack into a wall, which meant it was only . . . human.

  Determined to get to the bottom of the matter, Lucetta pushed her fear aside and darted forward, her darting coming to a quick end when the door she was aiming for slammed shut before she reached it. The clear click of the lock turning in place had temper stealing over her.

  Jiggling the knob to make certain it wouldn’t turn, she spun around and headed to her bedchamber, turning on a gas lamp and then blowing out a breath of annoyance when she discovered the key to the room was missing from the hook right beside her bed.

  Pushing aside the case of the willies over the idea that someone must have been remarkably close to her while she slumbered, Lucetta squared her shoulders and marched into the bathing cham
ber. Setting her attention on a small box of hairpins, she plucked one of them out and strode back to the locked door.

  Making short shrift of the lock, thanks to the lock-picking tutorage she’d received from her good friend Millie Longfellow, she tugged the door open, cocking an ear in the hopes of hearing sounds of retreating armor. To her frustration, not a single clink could be heard.

  Unwilling to allow the suit of armor to go on its merry way, Lucetta fetched a wrapper, slipped her feet into comfortable shoes, and left the tower, pleased to discover that the gas sconces lighting the steep staircase had been left burning.

  Reaching the ground level, she heard the hoot of an owl and, surprised to find that the castle door had been left open, followed the hoot outside. A second later, she was feeling all sorts of foolish when that door slammed closed, leaving her standing outside in her wrapper. Squaring her shoulders, she marched her way over to the door, grabbed hold of the handle, and felt temper begin to boil through her veins when she discovered she’d been locked out of the castle.

  “I’m not finding this amusing,” she called through the heavy wood, unsurprised when she received not a single peep in response.

  Tugging the wrapper up around her neck and ignoring the chill breeze that had taken to swirling around her, Lucetta turned and headed down the few steps leading to the lawn, using the moonlight to guide her way as she walked to the front of the castle, hoping there was a bellpull she could use to summon some assistance.

  Rounding the corner of the castle, she stopped in her tracks as the distinctive clip-clop of a horse sounded in the distance. Lifting her wrapper so she wouldn’t trip, she dashed after the sound, resisting the urge to call to the rider just in case it wasn’t someone she knew. She found herself stopping yet again, though, when the moon hit the rider exactly as he turned to look back at the castle and she found herself staring at none other than . . . Bram.

  What he was doing out and about at this time of night, she couldn’t even hazard a guess. She’d not lain eyes on the gentleman since they’d parted ways that afternoon, when Bram had assured her he was off to question his staff about the mysterious necklace and sword.

  From what she’d been able to gather through Stanley—who’d been sent up to the tower room to inform Lucetta that the ladies who’d come for tea had departed for the day—Bram had gotten distracted from questioning his staff because some mysterious matter of business had arisen. That matter of business had also been the explanation given to excuse his absence from the dinner table, as well as his absence from the conversations that had taken place after dinner in the drawing room.

  Although Iris hadn’t spoken a single word about his absence throughout the lovely dinner Mrs. Buttermore, the cook, had provided, it had been clear she’d been less than pleased. But when they’d repaired to the drawing room, Iris had become quite vocal regarding her disappointment with her son. She’d taken a seat right beside Abigail and had launched into a conversation with her mother regarding how she was obviously not very good with the whole mothering business, given the curious nature of her middle child, Bram, and the contrary nature of her only daughter, Ruby—at which point Iris had turned away from Abigail and sent a pointed look Ruby’s way.

  Ruby, bless her heart, had strolled over to the piano and declared that what the evening needed to liven it up—and drown out opinionated mothers—was music. Sitting at the piano, she’d cracked her knuckles right before she’d begun pounding out tune after tune, seemingly oblivious to the fact she wasn’t in the least proficient at the keys. While Lucetta had moved her chair closer to Abigail and Iris to distract herself from the horror coming out of the piano, Mr. Skukman, surprisingly enough, had pulled his chair closer to the piano and had taken to watching Ruby play, an expression of great appreciation on his face even when Ruby missed her fair share of notes.

  While Lucetta had found Mr. Skukman’s behavior unusual, indeed, she hadn’t dwelled on it long. Instead, she’d taken to watching Iris and Abigail, both ladies seemingly content to spend their evening sitting beside each other—on the same settee—sharing ideas pertaining to family matters, their voices rising louder and louder as Ruby continued banging on the keys with more and more enthusiasm.

  What had become evident to Lucetta the longer she’d watched Abigail was that, even if their trip to Ravenwood did not produce a solution to the Silas Ruff situation, it had allowed Abigail an opportunity to repair some of the hurts she’d caused in the past, and repair—or at least start to repair—the relationship with her daughter. Because of that, as she stood shivering in her wrapper in the middle of the night, Lucetta couldn’t regret the trip, even if she did regret lowering her defenses ever so slightly, which had allowed Bram to worm his way—and his obviously criminal ways, at that—into a little piece of her heart.

  She was rarely taken in by any gentleman, but Bram had almost convinced her, in a relatively short period of time, that he was kind, generous, and compassionate, all the while hiding what could only be explained as a Machiavellian nature.

  Suddenly realizing that Bram and his horse were now nowhere in sight, Lucetta shook away those unhelpful thoughts, squared her shoulders, and headed down the drive. By the time she reached the gatehouse—the one resembling a mausoleum—she was short on breath and long on temper.

  “Miss Plum, my goodness, what are you doing out and about at this time of night, and without your Mr. Skukman, from the looks of it?”

  Stumbling to a stop, Lucetta found Ernie ambling her way from the front of the mausoleum, rubbing his eyes and looking exactly as if he’d just been woken from a sound sleep.

  “I could ask you the same thing, Ernie,” she said. “Surely you’re not required to attend to the front drive at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Of course not. I volunteered to sleep out here for a night or two, given that I’m to blame for that swor . . .” He clamped his mouth shut and didn’t say another word.

  “Blame for . . . Were you going to say . . . sword?” Lucetta finally asked.

  Ernie blinked big eyes back at her in a far too obvious attempt to look innocent. “I was going to say,” he continued, “that there are shenanigans going on here at Ravenwood, and Mr. Haverstein, well, he’s powerfully worried about them.” Ernie puffed up his chest. “He trusts me, though, Miss Plum, which is why I’ve been given the task of making certain there aren’t any suspicious comings and goings at odd hours of the night, and . . .” He reached up and scratched his head. “Begging your pardon, but you being out at this hour is . . . suspicious.”

  “I got lured, and then locked out of the castle, after being scared half to death by a walking suit of armor.”

  Ernie stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small pad of paper, which he immediately opened before he pulled out a pen and sent her a nod. “That sounds like a case of shenanigans to be sure, Miss Plum. Now . . . tell me, what did the suit of armor look like?”

  “It looked like a suit of armor, of course.”

  “Was there anything of a distinguishing nature about it?”

  “It was walking across the room.”

  Ernie scribbled something into the notebook. “Suspicious indeed, and not something one expects to see when they’re a guest at Ravenwood.”

  “It was certainly an unexpected sight, and while I’d love to provide you with additional details, I really need to speak with Mr. Haverstein. Did you happen to notice him passing by a few moments ago?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’re not concerned about Mr. Haverstein’s suspicious comings and goings?”

  “Heavens no. There’s nothing suspicious about Mr. Haverstein riding Storm—that’s his horse—out and about at this hour. They do it almost every night.”

  Lucetta blinked. “What else do they do almost every night?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, especially since I’ve never accompanied him on his nightly rides.”

  “Do you happen to know where he mi
ght be heading this evening?” she pressed.

  “He’s probably heading off toward town, but I’m not completely certain about that.”

  Unwilling to admit defeat just yet, Lucetta glanced down the empty road. “How far is town from here?”

  “Not far, but . . . you can’t go walking off by yourself, Miss Plum. Mr. Haverstein wouldn’t like that at all, and . . .” He shuddered. “I hate to think what your Mr. Skukman would do if he learned I’d let you waltz away on your own.”

  Looking around, Lucetta smiled. “Is that your horse and pony cart over there?”

  “Sweet Pea isn’t a horse, Miss Plum. She’s a mule.”

  Lucetta considered Sweet Pea for a moment. “May I borrow her?”

  “Ah, well . . . I really think it might be for the best if you were to return to the castle and wait for Mr. Haverstein there.”

  “But then I’d miss this prime opportunity of finding out what he’s really up to.”

  Ernie frowned. “That almost sounds as if you think he’s up to something questionable.”

  “Isn’t he?”

  “Of course not. But since it’s clear you’re not going to listen to me, you may use Sweet Pea, but only if you promise to tell Mr. Skukman—if he asks you, that is—that I let you use the mule under duress.”

  Much to Lucetta’s delight, she soon found herself sitting in the pony cart as Sweet Pea practically pranced down the road, evidently enjoying the crisp night air.

  Lucetta, on the other hand, was beginning to wish she’d had the foresight to grab a jacket, because to her, with the wind swirling past her as Sweet Pea continued her prancing at a remarkably fast clip, it was becoming downright chilly.

  Rounding a bend in the road a good fifteen minutes later, Lucetta was considering giving up her quest due to the fact she’d taken to shivering, when Bram and Storm came into view.

  Oddly enough, Bram had dismounted and was standing to the side of the road, gesturing wildly to Storm and shouting phrases like “You cowardly cur” and “Unhand me at once.” Finding that to be a slightly peculiar conversation to be holding with a horse, especially when Storm kept tossing his head as if he was in perfect agreement with Bram, Lucetta steered Sweet Pea toward them, unable to help but notice that when Bram finally did catch sight of her, he stopped speaking at once even as he took to looking slightly . . . guilty.