Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity and the Duke

“Hush.” Grayson squeezed her shoulder and turned to watch Newland, who was crouching beside Mattie, checking her pulse. “Not a word, my dear, not until we’ve got you all back in the hall.” Newland looked up and Grayson nodded. “Right, then. Everyone ready? Off we go.”

Derek cradled Peter in his arms, Gash and Newland carried a blanket-wrapped Mattie between them, and Grayson put an unexpectedly strong arm around Emma’s waist as they left the chapel to face the storm once more. Emma felt lightheaded, and she moved through the mud and the pelting rain on legs that had turned to rubber. The castle ruins closed around her, then fell away, and the light in the dining-room windows hovered like a dream on a distant horizon.

Kate and Hallard were there, bearing ornate candelabras, since the electricity was still off, and they led the motley parade to the library, where Dr. Singh was waiting. Chilled to the bone, Emma told Grayson to go ahead with the others, then made her solitary way up the darkened staircase and through the silent corridors to her room, oddly comforted by her ability to find her way without a light to guide her.

The rose suite was warm and dry and quiet. Emma let the rain-soaked blanket slide from her shoulders, dried her glasses on the quilted coverlet, then knelt on the hearth and fumbled with numb fingers to start a fire. She gave up, finally, pulled the coverlet from the bed, and huddled beneath it, too exhausted to move. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she was aroused from her stupor by the sound of a voice from the hallway.

“Emma, honey. It’s me, Syd. You think maybe you could get the door?”

Syd Bishop’s candles were balanced on a round tray. “Room service,” he announced, placing the tray on the low table between the pair of overstuffed armchairs. “Hot coffee, and a bowl of chicken soup. I’d go straight to hell if I was to say it’s as good as my grandma‘s, God rest her soul, but I’m tellin’ ya, Madama musta stole her recipe.” He filled a cup with steaming coffee and handed it to Emma, wincing when he saw her bloodied knuckles. “Ouch. Caught yourself pretty good there, huh? And what are you doin’, sittin’ here all this time in wet clothes? C’mon. Let’s get you changed before you catch pneumonia.”

Syd’s years behind the scenes at fashion shows had not been wasted. He knew how women’s clothing worked and was disarmingly matter-of-fact about nudity. He stripped off Emma’s dripping clothes and tucked her into her blue robe, wrapped a towel around her head, and sat her in an armchair without spilling a drop of her coffee or bringing the faintest blush to her cheek.

The coffee had revived her and the scent of chicken soup proved irresistible. While Syd bent to start a fire, Emma emptied the bowl, then sat back, wishing there was more. Her hand was sore and her knees were beginning to ache, and she knew she’d be stiff later on, but at that moment, with a bowl of warm soup inside her and a second cup of coffee to sip, a soft chair to sink into and a fire beginning to crackle at her feet, she felt as though she’d washed ashore in paradise.

“Is Peter all right?” she asked, as Syd settled into the other chair.

“Petey-boy? He’s gonna be just fine after he gets a little shut-eye. I’m tellin’ you, Emma, I’m so proud of that kid, I could bust.” He turned to pour a cup of coffee for himself. “He saved Mattie’s life, you know.”

“No, Syd,” said Emma. “I don’t know. What was she doing out there?”

“Tryin’ to off herself.” Syd nodded, picked up his cup and saucer, leaned back in his chair. “Crowley found a note.”

“Oh, no,” Emma whispered.

“Yeah, I know. Terrible thing. Terrible. Such a young girl. She’s gonna be okay, though. Busted her arm and banged herself up pretty good, but the doc, he says she’ll be fine.”

“But why?”

“Didn’t know how to explain things to Crowley. Didn’t want her old grandpa to be ashamed of her.” Syd paused to drink from his cup, then looked toward Emma. “She’s the one what clobbered Suzie.”

“Mattie?”

“That’s what the note was about. There was pages and pages of it and, I’m tellin’ ya, it was a real eye-opener.” Syd put his cup on the tray, folded his hands across his stomach, and sighed. “Mattie had her heart set on goin’ into the industry,” he began. “She was crazy about Suzie, real thrilled about meetin’ a pro. So, when Suzie told her to come to the chapel garden that morning, and to keep everything hush-hush so Nanny Cole’s nose wouldn’t be put outta joint ...”

... I couldn’t say no, Granddad. Mattie paused to listen for a moment, then smiled. It was much too late for anyone to be knocking on her door. It was only the wind that had disturbed her, rising to a keening wail outside the window of her room. Such a nice room. She’d cleaned it from top to bottom after supper, and put her things neatly on the dresser, where Granddad could find them and send them home to Mum afterward. Now all that remained was the note. Mattie chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen, then bent to her task once more.

I put all my sketches together and packed my blue bag with the dress Nanny helped me make—the cripe de chine, with all the tucks. Nanny says it’s my best one yet, but I wanted a professional opinion, so I just had to show it to Ashers. And then I thought about accessories. You know how strict Nanny is about them, but I didn’t think my dress needed too much fuss and feathers, as Nanny calls it. The right pair of shoes would be enough. Mattie raised her pen from the paper and looked toward the windows again. The wind was blowing harder than ever, and that was good. It would make everything easier.

“She snuck the shoes outta Suzie’s room,” Syd explained, shaking his head. “Poor kid thought it’d be real impressive to show her dress with Suzie’s shoes.”

I put the shoes in the bag with the dress, Mattie wrote, and told Nanny I was going down to help Madama. Then I told Madama I was going up to help Nanny. Then I came out to the garden, where Ashers was waiting. I know you don’t like Ashers, but she was wonderful, at first. She said I had a real eye for detail and she told me she could put me in touch with all the right people. Can you imagine? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Mattie reread the last sentence, then scratched it out.

I was very happy, she wrote instead, until Ashers started asking those questions. You know, the ones she was asking Mr. Harris, about that grotty band that stole His Grace’s boat. I told her I didn’t know anything about it, but she said that you did, and told me to ask you.

I couldn’t do that. I tried to be nice about it, but Ashers kept after me, just the same way she kept after Mr. Harris. She got really mean, Granddad. She started shouting at me. She called you a thief. She said she’d have you put in prison if I didn’t help her.. Mattie’s hand began to tremble and she reached for her cup of cocoa to steady her nerves. This was the hard part.

“Things kinda got outta hand,” Syd went on. “One minute Suzie’s standin’ at the top of the stairs, laughin’ at the kid, and, the next thing Mattie knows, she’s got the grub hoe in her hands and Suzie’s out cold on the ground.”

I didn’t mean to hurt her . Mattie underlined the words. I just wanted her to stop saying all those awful things about you. And then she was lying there, not moving, and I knew I’d done a dreadful thing. Not just dreadful for me, but for everyone.

You never talk about it, Granddad, and neither does Nanny Cole, but Mrs. Tharby at the Bright Lady told me how bad it was after that rock singer drowned, and I knew this would be even worse. I didn’t mind going to jail, but His Grace might have to close up the hall if the newspaper people started coming round again, and I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve been so happy here.