CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Unexpected Arrivals

“. . . but she saw everything through the mist of her own passions and prejudices; and, consequently, saw everything falsely.”

 

Bury, Charlotte, The Diary of a Lady-in-Waiting

“I told you she’d be angry, Minney,” said the younger of the two. The hems of her green coat were dusty. Her silk-lined bonnet had gone crooked somewhere in her travels, and she had not yet righted it.

“And I told you it didn’t matter,” said the older girl. “Mama will forgive us. Won’t you, Mama?” Minney Seymore ignored Mrs. Fitzherbert’s shocked exclamation as well as her furrowed brow and pressed her cheek to the older woman’s. Then she straightened up and whisked around to face Rosalind, who had also risen to her feet. “Now, may I take it you are the famous Miss Thorne?”

Miss Seymore was a slender, pale young woman with deep brown eyes. Those eyes carefully evaluated Rosalind’s appearance and affect. She might be young, but Minney Seymore had been raised in the labyrinth of the haut ton, and clearly, she had learned that if one did not want to be left floundering, keen observation was required.

Mrs. Fitzherbert had recovered herself enough to make introductions. “Miss Thorne, may I introduce Miss Mary Seymore and Miss Mary Ann Smythe.”

The adoption of a child was an entirely private matter. The terms, conditions, and length of the child’s residence were determined solely by the families involved. Mrs. Fitzherbert had been given charge of these girls by families who could not, or would not, raise them. One, if Rosalind understood correctly, was her niece; and the other, the daughter of a dear friend. She looked upon them as her own and treated them as such, but there was no legal requirement that they change their names, or observe any other formality. Indeed, Mrs. Fitzherbert could have handed them back to their birth families at a moment’s notice.

“You may call me Minney,” the older girl told Rosalind. “It saves confusion. We are a household of Marys.”

“How do you do?” Rosalind made her curtsy.

“Exhausted.” Mary Ann selected a chair and perched on the edge of it. “We’ve been traveling practically since dawn.” Her glower at her sister spoke volumes about whom she held responsible for that.

“My brother might have sent word,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert sardonically.

“I expect it will arrive with the afternoon post.” Miss Seymore dropped into the remaining chair. She undid her bonnet ribbon and tossed the hat aside. A riot of dark curls sprang up as if eager for the touch of the sun. “We left before he came downstairs. And I’m afraid we’ve already sent the carriage back. Which means you’re stuck with us, Mama.” She stripped off her gloves and reached for the teapot. “And as I imagine you must be wondering, the reason we’re here is because we read about Miss Thorne’s visit in the paper.”

She passed a teacup to her sister with the air of one making a peace offering and filled another for herself. “Aunt said something must be seriously wrong, because everyone knows Miss Thorne’s business is solving problems, and with the queen back in the city and everything in such a stew . . . well, we simply couldn’t leave you alone, could we?”

“You do understand that, don’t you, Mama?” asked Miss Mary Ann anxiously.

“I understand that you two have behaved most impulsively and thoughtlessly,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “And my brother will be out of his wits with worry. You should have at least let the coachman wait long enough for me to write a note saying you had arrived safely. That must be done first thing.”

“But, Mama . . . ,” began Miss Mary Ann.

Mrs. Fitzherbert did not let her get any further. “You will go to your rooms at once, both of you. I will send for you once I have written, and then you will hear what there is to say.”

“No, Mama, I will not,” said Miss Seymore. “I am not a child, even though you persist in treating me like one.” Her tone told Rosalind there was a swarm of old arguments behind her words. This was not surprising. Miss Seymore was on the cusp of adulthood and wanted to test her own powers. Some clashes with her parent were inevitable.

Rosalind remembered Burrowes’s warning hints and Alice’s mention of the penniless cavalry officer. Possibly the disagreements had been more than the usual clashes between parent and child. Possibly Miss Seymore and her sister had been sent away for more than their protection.

Miss Seymore drew herself up, assuming a mature dignity. “If something has happened that affects you, Mama, it affects us all. Isn’t that so, Mary?”

Miss Mary Ann raised her chin in a show of strength and solidarity. “We really could not stay bottled up in the country if you were in trouble.”

“That is very good of you,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “Truly, girls. But you must realize you make the situation so much more complicated by being here.”

“How could we when we don’t know what the situation is?” replied Miss Seymore pertly.

Mrs. Fitzherbert threw up her hands. “What am I to do with you? Miss Thorne, do please excuse me. As you can see, I must take care of my girls.”

“Of course, Mrs. Fitzherbert. I was about to take my leave.” She got to her feet.

But Miss Seymore was not about to let her go so easily. “Now, you will wait a moment, Miss Thorne. I insist on knowing what you have come to Mama about.”

Rosalind opened her mouth to make an ambiguous reply, but Mrs. Fitzherbert spoke first. “My room was broken into, and some things were stolen. Miss Thorne was assisting with the inquiry into how this happened.”

Miss Seymore’s face went dead white. For a moment, Rosalind thought she might actually faint.

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Miss Mary Ann. “What was taken?”

“Some private letters,” said Rosalind.

Miss Seymore steeled herself. “And did you find who took them?”

“I’m afraid,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert, “it was Burrowes.”

“Burrowes?” Miss Mary Ann cried, genuinely shocked. “She’d never!”

“How awful!” exclaimed Miss Seymore. “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m afraid you have to believe it, and so do I,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “I have had to dismiss her for the theft.”

“On the word of a . . . a stranger?” Miss Mary Ann’s shock was quickly dissolving into anger.

Miss Seymore had rallied. She pressed her sister’s hand. “Oh, Mary, Mama would not do such a thing unless she was sure.” Her tone was reassuring, but Rosalind noted how the other hand had curled itself into a tight fist.

“I am not going to discuss this now,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert flatly. “It has been done, and my new maid is in place. Now, please, both of you. Let me have a moment’s peace. I promise I will come speak with you as soon as I have dispatched the letter to my brother.”

Miss Seymore stood, very much on her dignity, but Rosalind got the distinct feeling she was glad to get away. Miss Mary Ann, however, hesitated. It seemed that she wanted to add more protests, but at the sight of her mother’s weary expression, she closed her mouth around whatever she meant to say. The young woman now looked genuinely uneasy. This pricked at Rosalind’s awareness.

It could, of course, have simply been a young woman’s genuine concern for a beloved parent in distress. Rosalind, however, could not help wondering if there was something more. At last, however, Miss Mary Ann rose to follow her older sister as she retreated into the house.

“You must forgive my girls, Miss Thorne,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert as the door to the house closed. “They are young and apt to be impetuous and . . . well, they are young.”

“They are worried about you.”

Mrs. Fitzherbert continued to stare at the place where her daughters had been. “Yes,” she said absently. “I believe they are.” Then she shook herself. “Now I must write to my brother and think of something to tell the girls.”

“If I may ask . . . Miss Smythe and Miss Seymore clearly know something of your marriage . . . ?”

“They do, and they do not,” Mrs. Fitzherbert said. “One cannot bring girls out into society and keep them from hearing rumors. Have I sat them down and told them the full story? No. That is my fault, I suppose. But they were so young, and the matter is so complex, I could not find the words.” Her fingers strayed to her miniature. “My husband was very fond of Minney when she was a child,” she finished softly. “People even wondered if, well . . .”

If she was the king’s daughter. Rosalind nodded.

Mrs. Fitzherbert sighed sharply, shaking off whatever unwelcome memories were crowding in on her thoughts. “Now, Miss Thorne, regarding our conversation before my daughters’ abrupt arrival—this Mr. Poole you spoke of is a stranger to me. He has never been admitted to this house by me and has no part in any business of mine. Does that satisfy you?”

Did it? Rosalind let the question hang between them for a moment.

“I apologize,” she said at last. “You understand that all considerations must be entertained at the beginning of a complex inquiry, and since speed is of the essence . . .”

Mrs. Fitzherbert bowed her head. “Yes, I do understand, and you are hardly the first to question my integrity.” Rosalind suppressed a wince. “Do you believe this Mr. Poole is associated with the theft?”

“Mr. Harkness has gone to find him,” said Rosalind. “I hope we will know more soon.”

“Well. That at least is good news. Please let me know as soon as there is word.”

Mrs. Fitzherbert rang the bell on the table. Their interview was at an end.

The maid Belinda reappeared to take Rosalind to the foyer and help her on with coat and bonnet. Rosalind noted the stout young woman’s face was pale and her eyes darted suspiciously toward Rosalind’s. The footmen were frowning at her, at each other, at the maid.

All of this told Rosalind that her involvement in Burrowes’s dismissal had become known. It was even now being talked over, and either believed or doubted. Amelia had been dropped into the middle of a beehive.

But there was no help for it. The arrival of Mrs. Fitzherbert’s daughters only made it more urgent that there be someone in the house who could ask questions and look for answers.

Rosalind thought back to the young ladies’ arrival and how Miss Seymore so blithely said they’d come because they read in the paper about Rosalind visiting their mother. It struck her that if that were true, the young ladies must have risen very early indeed or their coachman had covered the distance back to London at breakneck speed.

She found herself wondering if they had already been on the road when they read the newspapers, and if the report of her visit to Mrs. Fitzherbert proved to be a better excuse for their return than the one they’d already formulated.

Rosalind remembered what Alice had said about Miss Seymore’s “unsuitable company.” She would not be the first girl to invent a way to escape exile.

And to see someone her mother very much wishes to keep away from her.

Rosalind found herself wondering where this cavalry captain was now.