An Artful Decision (The Art of Love #5)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

MRS. SOUTHERLAND’S REPLACEMENT

G winnie heard the rustle of her blue-green silk bed curtains. She knew that was Rose coming to wake her. Gwinnie steadfastly kept her eyes closed. Maybe Rose would go away. She didn’t want to face the day. Mrs. Southerland was gone. All that was left were memories, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love and guidance she had lost from her mentor and dear friend.

“I know you are awake, mi lady. I saw your muscles tense. The duke said to tell you Mr. Martin would be here in an hour to discuss investigating Mrs. Southerland’s death. He said you wanted to be included,” Rose said, as she fastened the open bed curtains in place.

Gwinnie lay there a moment longer, feeling a gaping void in her heart. But lying in bed wouldn’t heal the void. She’d made a silent promise to herself last night that she would work to uncover the truth behind Mrs. Southerland’s murder. A steely determination replaced yesterday’s heavy lethargy of sadness with its threat of tears.

No more tears. She was stronger than that, and she owed Mrs. Southerland more than a maudlin champion for her murder investigation.

She threw her heavy covers to the side, then sat up on the edge of the bed. She pushed her thick, red braid back over her shoulder and stood up.

“Might I have a coffee this morning as I dress?” Gwinnie asked Rose. “I was up late playing my violin.”

“I thought you might want coffee this mornin’, mi lady. I requested it before I came up here. A tray will be here shortly,” Rose said, as she picked up Gwinnie’s robe and helped her into it.

Gwinnie smiled. “You take such good care of me. Thank you,” she said. She walked to the window and looked out at the street and the square beyond. “It looks like it could rain or snow, the clouds look so heavy.”

“Probably rain,” Rose said, as she made the bed. “It’s warmer his morning.”

Gwinnie turned to look at Rose. “You went out this morning all ready?”

Rose nodded as she fluffed a pillow and put it in place. “I— I needed to walk and think a bit, after— after your news of yesterday.”

Gwinnie walked swiftly over to Rose and touched her gently. “I’d forgotten you were one of her first students.”

Rose visibly swallowed. “Yes, mi lady.” Her eyes glistened. “I know you will do all you can to find her murderer. As that is who you are.”

Gwinnie laughed slightly. “Yes,” she admitted.

“I want to help,” Rose said with firmness. “It is not right that she be dead. Not right at all. I am angry at God right now for taking her?—”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Gwinnie protested.

“I know that isn’t right. I need to focus my anger on whoever took that dear lady from us.”

Gwinnie nodded.

“And you know I can go places you can’t,” Rose added, giving Gwinnie a sly look. “I still know people from days long past.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Gwinnie called out. She turned back to Rose. “I hope that won’t be necessary, but I will speak to Mr. Martin,” she promised as the maid, Mercy, brought in a breakfast tray.

Rose motioned the girl to set it on a table by the window. “Come and eat, Lady Gwinnie. It will likely be a busy day.”

“That is fer certain,” said Mercy as she set the tray down. “Mrs. Hunnicutt has us runnin’ every which way, what with the dowager duchess arrivin’ today.”

“Grandmother is coming to visit?” Gwinnie asked.

“Yes, mi lady, and on that account, I could scarcely get a moment to brung your tray till Cook said sumpin’ to Mrs. Hunnicutt.”

Gwinnie laughed. “Phillipe is about the only person who will stand up to her.” Phillipe had been her grandmother’s cook at Versely Park before she brought him to London during one of her visits and he never left.

Mercy nodded. “He were right determined you get your tray. Said you needed sus— sus— sumpin, I cain’t remember the word.”

“Sustenance,” Rose said.

“Yes, that were it. I’d best get back downstairs,” Mercy said, smiling brightly.

“Thank you, Mercy,” Gwinnie said. She crossed to the table and sat down.

“Did you know my grandmother was coming?” Gwinnie asked Rose after Mercy had left.

“No, mi lady,” she said, as she straightened the room.

Gwinnie began to eat.

“What dress would you like today?” Rose asked, as she crossed to the wardrobe.

“I think the blue one. And could you find me a black ribbon to wear about my arm?”

“Yes, that would be a fine idea. You might have one long enough in your hair ribbon box. I’ll check there.”

It wasn’t long before Gwinnie finished her breakfast and felt much the better for it, and Rose had her dressed in her long-sleeved blue gown that had a print of small yellow-and-white flowers over it. And Rose did find a black hair ribbon that they were able to tie around Gwinnie’s arm right below the puffed top portion of the sleeve.

“Let’s keep my hair like we would do for Sarah Knolls, more sedate.”

“Yes, mi lady,” Rose replied, as Gwinnie sat down at her dressing table.

“I wonder why Grandmother is coming?” Gwinnie mused as Rose brushed her hair. “She can’t have heard about Mrs. Southerland yet.”

“Because the Norwalks have come to town?” Rose suggested.

“Most likely. But she will soon learn of Mrs. Southerland, and I’ll admit to some concern as to what she will do. You know how she is. She meddles in everything.”

“Won’t the duke keep her under control?”

“He will certainly try, but trying and doing are different things where Grandmother is concerned,” Gwinnie said. She picked up her bottle of scent from the dressing table. Lilies of the Valley . “I must talk to him about her and what her presence means to the investigation of Mrs. Southerland’s death and the threats he’s received. I don’t believe Father has any interests in the machines that threaten Luddites, so they are not likely to come from that direction.” She lightly applied the scent. She didn’t wear a scent every day, but today the urge pleased her.

“It may not matter, mi lady,” Rose answered. “They may not understand that and just be against any machines. Especially them steam-powered, dirty, noise-makin’, giant machines.”

Gwinnie laughed. “Rose, now you sound like a Luddite.”

“No, mi lady, but you have to admit they are noisy and messy.”

“Right now, but that will change with time as more new things are designed.”

“ Humph .”

Gwinnie laughed harder.

Mr. Martin was already with her father when their footman opened the library door for her.

“Good morning, Father, Mr. Martin,” Gwinnie said, striding purposefully across the room to sit in the other chair in front of her father’s desk. Both men had risen when she entered, which Gwinnie found annoying. She made a face and waved at them to sit. “Please, it’s just me, Gwinnie,” she reminded them.

“Nonetheless, you are a lady,” Lewis countered.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, tossing her head.

Her father laughed. “I’m glad to see you in better spirits this morning.”

“I have to be, I heard Grandmother is coming to visit. Seriously, I decided on waking that wallowing in sadness does not help Mrs. Southerland, nor would she approve.”

“I’m gratified to hear that,” said her father in his rumbling voice, the tone of which Gwinnie quite liked over his ‘ Father’ voice.

“My mission is to discover who killed her and see there is retribution,” she told them.

“Mission?” her father repeated.

“I knew there was something else to that first statement,” Lewis said with a sigh, looking at the duke, his lips twisting in a wry smile.

The duke’s bushy brows drew together in a condemning ‘V’ shape, then he raised one brow in a manner Gwinnie envied. She couldn’t do that. “Gwinnie, you will leave the investigation to Mr. Martin,” said her father sternly.

“I did not say I would not,” she countered, squirming to sit upright in her chair.

“Or that you would,” Lewis said sotto voce .

Gwinnie turned to glare at him. “There is much I can do. Just this morning I discovered— or I should say, I was reminded— that Rose, my maid, was one of Mrs. Southerland’s first students and first successes.”

“You think she might know more about Mrs. Southerland’s background?” Lewis asked.

“Yes, as she was present while Mrs. Southerland organized the charity,” Gwinnie said. “And, as she told me, she can go into parts of London I cannot.”

“I will grant you that, and if that is what you mean by help , I won’t complain,” Lewis said, nodding his head in her direction.

“See that you keep your help to that level,” her father admonished. “Soothcoor has a replacement going to Mrs. Southland’s today to take over the institution temporarily until a permanent replacement can be found.”

“That quickly?” Gwinnie asked.

“Do we know who this person is?” Lewis asked.

Her father nodded. “Miss Millie Southerland, Mrs. Southerland’s sister-in-law.”

“What? I didn’t know she had a sister-in-law; she never mentioned her,” Gwinnie said.

“While her husband was alive, they were all very close. They drifted apart after Mr. Southerland died, Soothcoor tells me,” her father explained.

“Where did he find her?” Lewis asked.

The duke laughed wryly. “She was the housekeeper at Soothcoor Mansion.”

“I don’t understand,” said Gwinnie, frowning.

“Soothcoor’s stepmother lived in Soothcoor Mansion for many years and Miss Southerland was the housekeeper. Now the Dowager Countess of Soothcoor wishes to make Appleton her principal residence, and Soothcoor intends to sell Soothcoor Mansion; she needs to find a new position.”

“Why didn’t she go with the staff to Appleton?” Gwinnie asked.

“There was already a housekeeper installed at Appleton— this all has happened quite recently,” her father explained.

Lewis had been sitting with his arms crossed and two fingers resting against his lips. “Why is he selling it?” Lewis asked

“He and his wife want something smaller.”

“I can understand that,” said Lewis, nodding and relaxing back in his chair. “Soothcoor is not a pretentious man.”

“Exactly. Anyway, Miss Southerland has been maintaining the London house for several weeks, waiting for decisions to be made. Now she needs to find another position. She suggested to Soothcoor that she could temporarily take leadership of Mrs. Southerland’s charity while she looks for another housekeeper role. From my understanding from the note I received with Soothcoor, the idea appealed to him, one less immediate problem for him to resolve, so she is moving in today.”

“This is all very sudden,” said Gwinnie. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I hope she is kind like Mrs. Southerland was. I would have thought he would have Mrs. Albert take over leadership as she has been there from the beginning.”

Lewis shrugged. “I would agree with you, but it looks like his need to have Soothcoor Mansion emptied was greater than his concerns for the charity. Probably seemed like a natural fit.”

Gwinnie sighed. “And it well might be a good fit. I shouldn’t judge without meeting the woman.”

“No, you should not,” said her father gruffly.

“I should like to go meet her,” she said brightly, nearly bouncing out of her chair.

The duke laughed at the abrupt change in tone from Gwinnie. “I’m sure you would. But not until she has had time to settle in. You might be too much for her to take in until she has been there a day or two.”

Lewis laughed.

“But I could help,” Gwinnie protested.

“Mrs. Albert and Miss Wooler will provide her with the support she needs. I do not want you going there until after the inquest. I’m sure all the women will have questions about the inquest, and I believe they would be more relaxed with you providing the answers than a stranger,” her father explained, and Gwinnie owned she could not refute him.

Mr. Harold appeared at the door. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but there is a Mr. Edmunds here to see you.”

“Oh blast, I forgot entirely about the man coming, what with everything going on.”

“Shall I request he return another day?” asked Mr. Harold.

“No, he had to journey over an hour to see me today— Gwinnie, please take Mr. Martin to the parlor. I need to see Mr. Edmunds. He is an inventor, and I am particularly interested in his invention for farming.”

“Of course.” She stood up to leave. “But we will be in the music room instead. I know Mr. Martin plays the pianoforte.”

The duke laughed as Lewis rolled his eyes and displayed a ‘ what’s a man to do’ expression. He dutifully followed Gwinnie out of the room.

In the hall stood a nervous-looking, robust gentleman in an ill-fitting suit. He held the brim of his hat in two hands and kept turning the hat around by the brim. Gwinnie encouragingly smiled at him as they passed him.

The music room was opposite the Lady Margaret Parlor and faced the terrace at the back of the house. She pushed open the white double doors to the music room, then looked back at Lewis.

“Brr! It is cold in here! I should call a footman to get the coal stove lit.”

“I can take care of that,” Lewis countered, as he walked over to the coal stove.

“Do you mind accompanying me while I practice?” she asked him, as he shoveled coal into the stove.

“My lady, it is a brilliant idea,” he answered. He pulled a tinder box from the mantel and lit a punk, carefully feeding it into the stove. “If the music room doors remain open, there should be no hint of impropriety,” he said, turning back to her.

Gwinnie laughed. “At my age, I don’t worry about that.” She took her violin out of its case and plucked some strings, then ran her bow over a string, stopping to adjust its tuning peg.

Lewis frowned. “You should be concerned,” he said. “Forgive my bluntness, but you are a beautiful, desirable woman that age has no bearing upon.”

Gwinnie smirked. “I did not take you for a flatterer, Mr. Martin.”

“Lady Guinevere,” Lewis began seriously. He took her hand in his. “I have long admired you, and if my circumstances in life were different…” He broke out his cheeky smile, his clear blue eyes twinkling. “… and if I were a taller man, I should request permission to court you and call you Gwinnie,” he finished seriously.

Gwinnie looked down at their clasped hands. The moment he’d touched her, she felt a wave of reaction through her body, a tingling awareness of the man. Her breath came faster. She looked into his beautiful blue eyes. The weight of unspoken desires hung heavy in the air between them, a thread waiting to be pulled.

Why now, why him? she asked herself.

She could not deny the pull. It quivered in her chest. She’d felt it for months— since she’d first met him, if she were honest. Since he’d first played the pianoforte in this room.

Maybe that was why she’d suggested playing music today. But he was right. Their circumstances were different. She was a duke’s daughter, and that had always hung heavily on her shoulders.

“Mr. Martin, I—” Gwinnie began, a warm blush on her cheeks.

Lewis let go of her hand. “My intent was not to discommode you, my lady, but to tell you to always consider propriety.” He stepped away from her. “What shall we play?” he asked, moving toward the pianoforte.

“Oh! Umm, let me see what music I have that includes pianoforte,” she replied, pulling herself together. She laid her violin aside and walked over to her music cabinet and ruffled through some pages before pulling out a score for pianoforte and violin. She handed the pianoforte sheets to Mr. Martin and took the violin music to her stand, just to the right of his instrument. She fetched her violin as Mr. Martin read over the sheet music she’d given him.

“I’m not familiar with this piece. Let me run through it once, first.”

“Certainly, I need to check the tuning on my violin anyway,” Gwinnie replied.

They played for an hour, hardly speaking to each other save for a discussion of the next music selection. They played until they heard multiple voices in the hall.

Gwinnie laid down her violin and went to investigate, Lewis following behind her.