Haunting Violet
Page 40
“Flatterer. Come on, then, I expect you’re thirsty.”
We followed her into the housekeeper’s parlor, where there was a hearth with a single easy chair in front of it and several baskets of knitting. The cupboards on the opposite wall were packed floor to ceiling with the manor preserves, jams, spices, and sugar. She lowered herself carefully into a chair at the small table, motioning for us to do the same. A maid hurried in with a tray of tea and berry tarts.
Elizabeth all but fell on the tarts. She ate with a little moan of delight before she recollected herself to why we were here in the first place.
“Tell me, then, have you been keeping out of mischief?” Mrs. Moon asked.
Elizabeth smiled breezily, licking a bit of raspberry off her lip. “Of course.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
We drank our tea with fresh milk and ate tarts. It wasn’t until she’d reached the bottom of her cup that Elizabeth remarked on anything other than the weather and fond memories of Mrs. Moon chasing her and Rowena out of the kitchen with a broom when they accidentally turned over a pot of bubbling jam. At the mention of Rowena’s name, Mrs. Moon sighed. “Poor lamb.”
“I still miss her,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Mrs. Moon patted her hand. “Of course you do, dear.”
“I still don’t understand how she drowned. She swam quite well.”
Mrs. Moon looked away. “A dreadful accident,” was all she said.
Elizabeth leaned forward, rattling her empty cup. “But it doesn’t make sense, Moony.” Which I gathered was their childhood nickname for the housekeeper.
“Tragedies never make sense. Have some more tea.”
She poured the rest of the pot out and pushed more tarts toward us. Chewing wasn’t going to stop Elizabeth from asking questions though. She just took smaller bites and swallowed quicker. “Do you remember that day? When Rowena drowned?”
“ ’Course I do. She’d had another row with her beau and couldn’t sleep. Tabitha was sulking because her father sent word that he’d stay in India for the foreseeable future. Miss Donovan was here too, though the girls were too distracted for lessons, it was that hot out.”
“Was there no one … strange about?”
Mrs. Moon frowned. “What do ye mean, strange? Sir Wentworth had guests and even your own Lord Jasper’s house was full to the brim with summer visitors. It’s always like that in the summer.”
“But no one … sinister?”
“Hmph. Don’t go getting wild ideas in your head, Lizzie. You always were one for storytelling. Rowena had an accident. I expect she was tired or else suffered a cramp of some kind. The doctor said it would have been peaceful-like.” Mrs. Moon touched a napkin to her lips. She stood up with a warm but firm smile. “Shall I go see if Miss Tabitha is at home?”
“But we came to see you,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “And not even a hello for your old childhood friend?”
“I’ve seen Tabitha all week at Uncle Jasper’s,” she muttered. “And she’s cross as two cats.”
“Well, I expect she’s just tired.”
Elizabeth gave a long-suffering sigh as she dragged herself into a standing position. “Very well, if we must.”
“It’s what ladies do.” She said it very decisively. “Now, come along.”
We followed obediently behind her, making faces. The last thing I wanted to do was visit with Tabitha. The rooms were huge, every surface polished and dusted. The drapes were heavy velvet, but here in the country, they were pulled back to let in the sunlight. There was no danger of the city’s coal fog smearing every nook and cranny with soot. We were left in a sunny parlor, vases of orchids and gladioli sharing their heavy scents.
“So both Caroline and Peter were here,” I whispered. “And they have a secret between them—I heard them in the garden one night.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Really? But he’s a gentleman. And she’s too dull to have secrets.”
A few moments later the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Tabitha stopped in the doorway, wearing a beautiful yellow dress with a white underskirt. She looked exceedingly tired.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked suspiciously.
“I came to eat Moony’s tarts,” Elizabeth said, lounging back with a hand on her stomach. She groaned. “And I ate too many.”
“You never did know when to stop,” Tabitha said, but not meanly. She sat down on the edge of a scrolled chair, as if she wasn’t sure if she was going to bolt. She eyed me with distrust. I just smiled as inoffensively as I could. I’d been dealing with Mother’s temper all these years; I wasn’t going to be cowed by a debutante, no matter what her family connections might be. There were crystal vases everywhere, overflowing with roses and irises and larkspur. Elizabeth stifled a sneeze.
“Why all the flowers?” she asked.
Tabitha lifted her chin haughtily. “They’re from my admirers.” There were enough of them to stock a flower shop twice over. She looked over them proudly. “Almost every eligible bachelor at Rosefield has sent some, even Fitzwilliam.” I wondered briefly if Xavier sent any but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of peeking. “There are even some from London, though I haven’t been in over a year and I’m not even officially out yet.” She preened like a cat.
We followed her into the housekeeper’s parlor, where there was a hearth with a single easy chair in front of it and several baskets of knitting. The cupboards on the opposite wall were packed floor to ceiling with the manor preserves, jams, spices, and sugar. She lowered herself carefully into a chair at the small table, motioning for us to do the same. A maid hurried in with a tray of tea and berry tarts.
Elizabeth all but fell on the tarts. She ate with a little moan of delight before she recollected herself to why we were here in the first place.
“Tell me, then, have you been keeping out of mischief?” Mrs. Moon asked.
Elizabeth smiled breezily, licking a bit of raspberry off her lip. “Of course.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
We drank our tea with fresh milk and ate tarts. It wasn’t until she’d reached the bottom of her cup that Elizabeth remarked on anything other than the weather and fond memories of Mrs. Moon chasing her and Rowena out of the kitchen with a broom when they accidentally turned over a pot of bubbling jam. At the mention of Rowena’s name, Mrs. Moon sighed. “Poor lamb.”
“I still miss her,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Mrs. Moon patted her hand. “Of course you do, dear.”
“I still don’t understand how she drowned. She swam quite well.”
Mrs. Moon looked away. “A dreadful accident,” was all she said.
Elizabeth leaned forward, rattling her empty cup. “But it doesn’t make sense, Moony.” Which I gathered was their childhood nickname for the housekeeper.
“Tragedies never make sense. Have some more tea.”
She poured the rest of the pot out and pushed more tarts toward us. Chewing wasn’t going to stop Elizabeth from asking questions though. She just took smaller bites and swallowed quicker. “Do you remember that day? When Rowena drowned?”
“ ’Course I do. She’d had another row with her beau and couldn’t sleep. Tabitha was sulking because her father sent word that he’d stay in India for the foreseeable future. Miss Donovan was here too, though the girls were too distracted for lessons, it was that hot out.”
“Was there no one … strange about?”
Mrs. Moon frowned. “What do ye mean, strange? Sir Wentworth had guests and even your own Lord Jasper’s house was full to the brim with summer visitors. It’s always like that in the summer.”
“But no one … sinister?”
“Hmph. Don’t go getting wild ideas in your head, Lizzie. You always were one for storytelling. Rowena had an accident. I expect she was tired or else suffered a cramp of some kind. The doctor said it would have been peaceful-like.” Mrs. Moon touched a napkin to her lips. She stood up with a warm but firm smile. “Shall I go see if Miss Tabitha is at home?”
“But we came to see you,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “And not even a hello for your old childhood friend?”
“I’ve seen Tabitha all week at Uncle Jasper’s,” she muttered. “And she’s cross as two cats.”
“Well, I expect she’s just tired.”
Elizabeth gave a long-suffering sigh as she dragged herself into a standing position. “Very well, if we must.”
“It’s what ladies do.” She said it very decisively. “Now, come along.”
We followed obediently behind her, making faces. The last thing I wanted to do was visit with Tabitha. The rooms were huge, every surface polished and dusted. The drapes were heavy velvet, but here in the country, they were pulled back to let in the sunlight. There was no danger of the city’s coal fog smearing every nook and cranny with soot. We were left in a sunny parlor, vases of orchids and gladioli sharing their heavy scents.
“So both Caroline and Peter were here,” I whispered. “And they have a secret between them—I heard them in the garden one night.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Really? But he’s a gentleman. And she’s too dull to have secrets.”
A few moments later the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Tabitha stopped in the doorway, wearing a beautiful yellow dress with a white underskirt. She looked exceedingly tired.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked suspiciously.
“I came to eat Moony’s tarts,” Elizabeth said, lounging back with a hand on her stomach. She groaned. “And I ate too many.”
“You never did know when to stop,” Tabitha said, but not meanly. She sat down on the edge of a scrolled chair, as if she wasn’t sure if she was going to bolt. She eyed me with distrust. I just smiled as inoffensively as I could. I’d been dealing with Mother’s temper all these years; I wasn’t going to be cowed by a debutante, no matter what her family connections might be. There were crystal vases everywhere, overflowing with roses and irises and larkspur. Elizabeth stifled a sneeze.
“Why all the flowers?” she asked.
Tabitha lifted her chin haughtily. “They’re from my admirers.” There were enough of them to stock a flower shop twice over. She looked over them proudly. “Almost every eligible bachelor at Rosefield has sent some, even Fitzwilliam.” I wondered briefly if Xavier sent any but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of peeking. “There are even some from London, though I haven’t been in over a year and I’m not even officially out yet.” She preened like a cat.
