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Harriet should’ve asked Joseph when he intended to call. Then she wouldn’t be listening for a knock at the front door or declining to accompany her mother when she asked her to go along on an errand, something she’d already done once. Would he come by today or next week?
“Whatever are you looking at?” her mother asked when she entered the drawing room to find Harriet staring out the window to the street below.
“Nothing.” Harriet knew her blush belied her words. Though tempted to mention that she’d spent time with Joseph at the house party and how much she was coming to care for him, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
What if he changed his mind and decided not to call on her?
What if he realized the advantage pursuing Frances would bring to his investment plan?
Those questions were much different than the hopeful feeling she’d had on the way home from the dinner party last evening.
“The day looks to be an especially fine one,” she said when her mother continued to stare at her with a questioning look.
“Too fine to remain inside. Why don’t you come with me to the apothecary? Afterward, we can drive by Regent’s Park.”
Alarm kept Harriet in place. She hated not to be home if Joseph called.
Seeming to take her silence for agreement, her mother said, “I’ll have the carriage brought around and fetch my shawl.” Then she turned and left the room.
With a sigh, Harriet glanced out the window to the empty street below again and then went to her bedroom to get her shawl as well. Staring out the window watching for Joseph wouldn’t bring him by any faster.
Her mother had mentioned how much she’d missed her while she’d been gone. Harriet couldn’t bring herself to refuse to go with her again.
Soon they were driving toward Purdy’s Apothecary, her mother chatting all the way about the dog she was considering getting, thanks to Harriet’s uncle. They alighted outside the shop and the tinkle of the bell above the door announced their arrival.
Harriet always had mixed feelings when she looked around the establishment, though her mother had been a customer for as long as she could remember. A certain uneasiness always crept over her when she looked at some of the items available for purchase.
Luckily, her mother only required headache powder and a potion for unsettled stomachs rather than alligator tongues or leeches kept in jars of rainwater. Her mother frequented the shop less often as she rarely suffered from ills since the death of her second husband.
The brown curtain that hid the back room parted, revealing Mr. Purdy. The small man was several inches shorter than Harriet and wore thick glasses that made him look as if he were peering through one of his glass jars. Only the thin muttonchops along his jaw made it apparent he wasn’t as young as he first appeared.
“Good afternoon, Lady Chapman.” He bowed, his black suit covered by a white apron with two large pockets where he kept long tweezers, measuring spoons, and wooden stir sticks.
“Mr. Purdy, I am in need of more headache powder, please.”
“Of course, my lady.” He dipped his head and moved to where he kept the powder and retrieved a small bottle. “I’m happy you found it helpful.”
“Yes, it is amazingly effective. I advised one of our neighbors who suffers from frequent headaches that she should try some.”
He and her mother conversed as Harriet walked around the shop, studying the items available for purchase. Wafers, tonics, and pills were kept in jars and tins, some with labels and others unmarked. A tall jar stood in the corner with pickled eels. She couldn’t imagine an ailment that would convince her to take it.
She’d asked what they were used for once, and Mr. Purdy had smiled and whispered, “Sometimes, it’s believing that a remedy will aid one that provides the true benefit.”
Harriet was behind the front door when the bell tinkled once again and someone else entered the shop. To her dismay, the newcomer was Reverend Henderson. He walked slowly forward, his attention on Mr. Purdy.
Though she longed to depart before he caught sight of her, she couldn’t leave her mother. Instead, she turned to face the display case of remedies along the front wall with the hope he wouldn’t notice her.
“Lady Chapman,” the reverend said, causing Harriet to stiffen in surprise. “It’s been some time since I last saw you.”
Harriet hadn’t realized her mother knew the man.
“Reverend Henderson.” The coolness of her mother’s greeting was undeniable and almost made Harriet smile. Apparently, her mother didn’t like him either.
“I was sorry to hear of Lord Chapman’s passing.”
“Thank you.”
Harriet slowly turned, unease crawling up her spine. Any mention of her stepfather was concerning, but that was especially true coming from a man for whom she didn’t care.
Reverend Henderson’s gaze shifted to her. “Lady Harriet, what a pleasant surprise.” He glanced between her and her mother. “I didn’t realize the connection until now.”
Harriet walked to stand beside her mother. “The reverend was also a guest at the Melbourne’s house party.”
“I see. How nice.” Her mother nodded politely then turned to look at Mr. Purdy. “That is all I need today. We must be on our way.”
“Lord Chapman’s demise was most unfortunate. And so puzzling.” Reverend Henderson stepped closer and placed a hand on the counter, the move somehow threatening when he was so near her mother.
Her mother shifted, lifting her chin. “Sadly, accidents happen daily.”
Harriet’s stomach clenched. It was all she could do not to grab her mother’s arm and rush them both out the door before he said anything more.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pay my respects at his funeral. I was abroad for several months.” He shook his head. “I can’t understand it. A fall seems so out of character. He was in excellent health when we visited not long before that.”
Her mother’s face grew pale. “I’m certain you’ve taken a misstep yourself at one time or another. Such things can occur quickly.”
“Hmm. Never a misstep at the top of the stairs where a handrail is surely within reach.”
Bile rose in the back of Harriet’s throat as memories of that terrible moment flew at her like bats swooping out of a cave.
“I suppose we will never know exactly how it happened.” Her mother pursed her lips, clearly upset by the conversation.
Reverend Henderson’s focus shifted between Harriet and her mother. “No one witnessed the...accident?”
Harriet’s chest tightened at the emphasis he placed on the word. She couldn’t have responded if her life depended on it. Nor could she move. Not when ice filled her veins, chilling her to the bone.
“No one,” her mother said, her voice tight. “Such a tragedy. Now then, we must be going.” She glanced at Mr. Purdy who had stopped to listen rather than working on her order. “Please have my order delivered when it’s ready.”
The apothecary seemed to realize his lapse and glanced at the empty bottle before him. “Of course, my lady. You’ll receive it this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Her mother glanced at Henderson. “Reverend.” Then she reached for Harriet’s arm and walked toward the door.
Thank goodness she took hold of Harriet, or she would’ve still been standing there, staring at the reverend.
Only once they were settled in the carriage did her mother show any emotion. She pressed a gloved hand to her mouth as she held Harriet’s gaze. “How unfortunate to come upon the reverend.”
“He acted as if he suspected something.” Harriet blinked back tears as fear clutched at her throat. “How did he know my stepfather?” Though he’d frequently told Harriet that she could call him Father, she’d refused. He could never have taken the place of her father.
Her mother leaned back against the tufted seat as if her strength had fled as the carriage rolled forward. “I don’t know exactly, but Henry admired the reverend. I believe Henry donated to his church at one point.”
Harriet stared out the window but didn’t see any of the passing scenery. Her heart raced at the idea of being questioned by the reverend or anyone else about what had happened that terrible night. “Mother—”
“You will not say a word, Harriet.”
“But I—”
“No.” Her mother shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “We’ve already discussed this. Nothing happened. What Reverend Henderson thinks doesn’t change anything.”
Despite her mother’s insistence, Harriet feared it did.
~*~
JOSEPH LOOKED BETWEEN Harriet and her mother, certain he hadn’t called at a good time. When his carriage had pulled up before Harriet’s home as she and her mother were exiting theirs, he’d thought his luck excellent.
But before he’d even greeted the ladies, it was clear something was amiss.
Harriet looked distraught, her body stiff, and if he didn’t know better, he thought she might have been crying. Her mother didn’t look any better, her face pale and a glaze of worry in her eyes.
Lady Chapman had looked at her daughter then at him, clearly confused by Joseph’s presence. Still, the lady had invited him for tea.
Now they sat in the drawing room, waiting for the tea to arrive, conversing in a stilted fashion. He wanted to distract Harriet and her mother from whatever was bothering them but couldn’t seem to keep from watching Harriet long enough to think of what to say.
Harriet sat on the edge of her seat, hands clasped tightly together in her lap, her gaze focused on something just over his shoulder. Her demeanor was so different than it had been last evening that it was clear something distressful had occurred.
He didn’t think it was anything he’d done. Yet the worry remained all the same. If only her mother would step out of the room, so he could inquire as to what was amiss.
Unfortunately, Lady Chapman showed no sign of leaving. Her gaze darted about the room, her thoughts clearly elsewhere even while she attempted a few remarks about the weather.
Joseph cleared his throat, the knot of worry in his chest tightening the longer he was there. “It was a pleasure coming to know Lady Harriet while we were at the house party.”
Lady Chapman managed a smile. “How interesting life can be at times.” She sent her daughter a pointed look, making him think her words held a hidden message.
“Isn’t it though?” Joseph agreed. “Much like the day Lady Harriet stopped my mother from stepping into the path of the carriage on Bond Street. I will always be grateful for that.”
“Indeed.” Lady Chapman nodded with a polite smile.
Harriet met his gaze. Her chest rose and slowly fell as if she were drawing a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. He gave a slight nod, hoping to silently lend his support. His protective instincts rose and demanded he take action though he didn’t know what.
“As Lady Harriet may have mentioned, I count both the Earl of Bolton and Captain Shaw as good friends.”
Lady Chapman nodded. “She did mention that. Their wives are close friends of Harriet’s. Aren’t they, dear?”
“Yes.” Harriet offered a small smile, giving him hope that she was recovering from her upset. “They certainly are.” She paused for a long moment. “Mother and I just returned from the apothecary’s. We were surprised to come upon Reverend Henderson there.”
“Henderson?” Joseph didn’t bother to hide his dislike of the man. “What a small city London can be at times.”
“Quite,” Harriet agreed.
Did Henderson have something to do with their upset?
Before he could ask, the butler arrived with the tea tray and set it before Lady Chapman.
The ritual of serving tea seemed to calm both ladies, easing some of the tension in the room.
Still, Joseph couldn’t let it go. “Forgive me for being overly familiar, but did he press you for a donation?”
“No.” Harriet shook her head then shared a look with her mother as if debating how much to say.
He hoped she knew she could trust him and that he would do anything in his power to aid her.
“It turns out he knew my late stepfather.”
“Oh?” Joseph took a sip of the tea Lady Chapman handed him, not wanting to appear overly anxious to learn more. He hadn’t known Lord Chapman. From what he’d learned at the house party, his death had been nearly two years ago.
When Harriet said nothing further, Joseph said, “I can’t say that I care for Henderson.”
“How is it that you know him?” Lady Chapman asked.
“He and my father are acquainted.” Perhaps if he shared more, Lady Chapman would do the same. “His ideas on requesting donations but not aiding the poor are concerning.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize he felt that way.”
Joseph explained what little he knew. But when the lady didn’t share anything more, he changed the subject. Speaking of the reverend only ruined his fine mood.
He told them about a display of Viking artifacts he’d seen at a museum and a recent lecture on predicting the weather that he’d attended.
Much to his relief, Harriet joined in the conversation and shared a few details about a book she was reading.
He didn’t remain long and soon took his leave, disappointed that he didn’t have a moment alone with Harriet to learn what had happened.
He had his driver take him to his club, wondering who he might ask to learn more about Lord Chapman. With no likely candidates of that age visible, he found a table to wait for a time to see if someone entered who might be helpful.
As he sipped a whiskey, his thoughts returned to Harriet. She had almost appeared frightened. But of what or whom? Surely not Henderson. She hadn’t shown any such emotions toward the man during the house party.
That Henderson knew her stepfather had to be of note, else why would she have mentioned it? He mulled over the possibilities as he greeted several acquaintances.
While he’d wanted to discover more about Henderson because of his involvement with his father, plans for the bank had taken precedence.
Not anymore. Aiding Harriet was now his priority. That meant looking further into Henderson.
He studied each man who came into the club, searching for a possible connection to Henderson or Chapman. He would guess that the two men had been nearly the same age, so finding someone of a similar age to ask could prove helpful.
He’d asked two without success when Lord Weston, who’d also been at Melbourne’s party, entered. Joseph stood to catch his attention.
“Garland.” The lord nodded. “Recovered from the house party?”
“Wishing we were still in the country, as a matter of fact.” Because that would mean he’d be with Harriet. “What of you?” He gestured to the empty chair at the table, pleased when Weston pulled it out to join him.
“Always enjoyable to spend time away from the city.”
They spoke for several more minutes before Joseph asked, “Do you know much about Reverend Henderson?”
“Other than speaking with him briefly at the party, not really. The reverend seems determined to insert himself into every possible opportunity of late.”
That didn’t clarify how Weston felt about Henderson. Given that Joseph had seen them speaking several times during the house party, they might be on good terms.
“I have a few concerns about his attitude toward being of service.” Joseph waited, hoping he’d feel free to agree or disagree. Either way, Joseph would know where Weston stood.
“I don’t think I’ll be donating to his church any time soon. I’m curious to know if Melbourne did.”
“As would I.” Joseph waited with as much patience as he could muster while the waiter served Weston a drink. “Did you know Lord Chapman?”
“Yes, though he died a year or two ago.” His brow furrowed as if he were thinking it over. “It’s probably been closer to two.”
“What happened?”
“An accident if I remember correctly. Fell down the stairs. Makes you think twice to hear things like that. Healthy one minute and dead the next.”
The information left Joseph with more questions than answers, but it was a step in the right direction. “Do you know who was well acquainted with Chapman?”
Weston gave him two names, though Joseph didn’t know them well.
As Weston departed to go to the card room, Joseph sighed with frustration. Did he pursue his line of questioning, or did he try to speak with Harriet privately? Did she trust him enough to allow him to help?
