The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery L.C. Sharp (i read books .TXT) 📖

her work critically. “If you should find it too much for you, please say, and we’ll have your breakfast brought up here.”

“I welcome it,” Juliana told her. “But aren’t you afraid I’ll corrupt your family with my murderous ways?”

Amelia burst into laughter. “Believe me, if there was the slightest possibility of that, you would never have seen the inside of the front door. Ash is very protective of us. In fact, he has never given any of his clients house room before. That might be because they’ve never needed one. But you obviously do, and we are happy to have you. I’ll leave you to finish off now, and go down to see to breakfast. Come down when you’re ready. The breakfast parlor is on the ground floor. The footman will show you the way.”

After giving Juliana an encouraging smile, Amelia left.

Juliana experienced the stillness after a whirlwind.

The only mirror in Amelia’s room was a small one hung over a chest of drawers, but by dint of bending and twisting, Juliana could check her appearance well enough. Her red-brown hair was brushed up into a simple knot, and a modest linen cap with lappets covered it. Her gown today was of good Spitalfields silk, a pattern of printed dark red stripes and plain cream. It fastened over her front, and opened to reveal a plain quilted petticoat. The hooped petticoat was in the modern style, more compact than a few years ago. She was a costumed doll no more. Dressed like this, simply but with style, her own mother would not have recognized her. In fact, Juliana wondered if her mother would recognize her at all without her face paint and hair powder.

And miracle of miracles, she was hungry. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with bacon drifting up to her when she opened the bedroom door encouraged that. She couldn’t remember when she was last hungry. Every day feasts had been laid before her, and she’d only picked at them. Today, her genuine hunger delighted her.

At least she could think this morning. Yesterday’s blanket of numbness was receding rapidly and she was glad of it.

Cautiously, she left the room, half expecting to find a footman in livery standing outside it, smiling at her foolishness when she didn’t. Of course this house did not employ dozens of footmen, or have liveries to put them in. Her host was a gentleman, but not from the stratum she was used to. And that was good. Baronets were not aristocrats, most did not have vast country estates and none had seats in the House of Lords. This house had no flashy display of possessions, but the furniture and drapery were good quality, and a few good items were scattered about, like the portrait of the man in a full-bottomed wig and sober clothes at the top of the stairs. Judging from his clothes, he was the current baronet’s father, but she would presume nothing until she knew more.

She edged along the corridor and found the stairs. Putting her hand on the well-worn and polished banister, she went down the stairs, and then down again. In the hall, a smiling footman met her gaze directly and led her to a room at the back.

When he opened the door, she ventured inside.

A full-scale brawl was going on. The whole family, including a boy she had not met, sat around the circular table talking loudly. The conversation stopped as they watched her come in, then started up again.

Ash unfolded his long frame and came to her. “You must excuse us. We’re all bears until we’ve had breakfast. Would you prefer to take your meal upstairs?”

“No!” The word came out before she had time to think. This was as far from her highly civilized, stilted meals as humanly possible. A feast would be laid out on a sideboard, complete with spirit heaters and a choice of beverages, at noon every day. Sometimes her father would join her, sometimes not. Her mother was usually there, but her conversation consisted of lectures and badgering. By the time she had done, Juliana’s appetite had usually fled.

Today her stomach rumbled. A familiar collection of dishes resided on the sideboard, but they looked as if a pack of wild wolves had rampaged over them. Lids were lying on the polished surface and most held only a sparse selection of viands. Ash regarded the display with a rueful grin. “We tend to enjoy breakfast. Dinner is more formal. After all, I have to teach them good manners sometime.”

“Did you bring your siblings up?”

He shook his head, a tinge of sadness entering his gaze. “My mother did. She left me to repair the damage.” He said no more, but turned to helping her to what she wanted. What damage did he mean? This family had secrets, but Juliana would not worm them out.

He held a chair out for her, and when she’d sat, performed a swift informal introduction. “Amelia you know. And here is the youngest, Gregory, who is shortly to go upstairs to his lessons.”

Everyone paused their meals long enough to nod and murmur a greeting. Gregory got to his feet and performed a perfectly acceptable bow.

Once Juliana had taken her seat, they fell to eating and fighting again.

While she was satisfying her appetite, Juliana listened to the cacophony going on around her.

Nobody glared at her, nobody cast her sideways glances. They talked around her, about the on-dits of the day, with no deference. Everything except her case, which was probably on their minds more than anything else.

Juliana loved it, the life, the atmosphere, the opinions bandied around. Even the discussion about Gregory and what he should do about his lack of progress in geometry, which his tutor would not be happy about. “Mr. Curtis is a curate, and he comes in every day to teach Gregory,” Amelia explained to her. “He’s an educated man.”

Gregory snorted. “If you can call Cambridge educated. I want to go to Oxford, and I still fail