Once Upon a Wallflower

With a sense of foreboding, Mira watched her go. She could not help thinking that events were spinning out of control, hurtling toward some disastrous crisis just beyond the horizon. She shuddered, trying to shake off her unease, and started down the long hallway to her own room.

Chapter Fourteen

Mira returned to her room to find Nan wearing a path in the carpet with her pacing. The tiny maid’s cap was askew, and she was chewing frantically on the edge of her thumbnail.

“Oh, Miss Mira,” she cried. “Thank heavens you are back! I have so much news.”

“Well, hello Nan,” Mira said with a tired smile. “Where have you been keeping yourself today?”

Nan bit her lip and looked down at her toes. “I am surely sorry, Miss Mira. I guess I am not much of a lady’s maid, never around when you need me. But you seemed, well, distracted. And I thought I might ask around the staff a bit, see what I could learn about the murders.”

Mira crossed the room to sink down heavily on the blue velvet settee, her limbs leaden with fatigue. “No, Nan. It is quite all right. As I have said before, I have gotten along splendidly without a maid for my entire life. I just worried that I had driven you away, been uncivil.”

Mira pressed her fingers against her eyes and sighed, trying to release the stress of the day. When she looked up again, she forced a bright smile and patted the cushion next to her in invitation. “Come now,” she said, “tell me what you have learned about our mystery.”

Anything would be a help, Mira thought. After all, Wednesday was already gone, and that left only two days, at most, to solve the mystery. On Friday night, Bella would abscond with Jeremy, who remained suspect. What’s more, any day now, the messenger from London would arrive with certification of the banns, and Mira would be forced to decide whether she would marry Nicholas or whether she would flee. Either way, her choice would be irrevocable, and Mira needed to have answers before she could make it.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Nan perched herself on the settee next to Mira and launched into her story.

“Well,” she said, her businesslike tone failing to conceal her excitement. “I started off taking some tea in the kitchen. Big houses like this are no different from crofter’s cottages: everyone tells their tales at table, so the cook knows everything. I tried to act like I was nervous about working for the fancy, that I wasn’t sure how to get on. I said I had heard tell that sometimes the quality took advantage of maids, if you catch my meaning. I asked the cook, Mrs. Jenkins, if I should be worried about that.”

“Clever girl, Nan!” Mira exclaimed, and Nan flushed from the praise. “So, what did Mrs. Jenkins have to say?”

“She said I had cause to worry. She said Lord Blackwell is a wolf. But he only comes home twice a year, and he usually stays away from the house staff. She said I should really watch myself around…,” Nan paused, clearly savoring her revelation, “…Mr. Jeremy Ellerby.”

“Oh dear. Yes, Nicholas let on that Mr. Ellerby had inherited his father’s rakish ways,” Mira murmured, thinking of Bella’s plans to elope and feeling a renewed sense of dread. Time was closing in on her, urgency robbing her of breath. “What else did Mrs. Jenkins have to say about Mr. Ellerby?”

“Only that he has put his hands on everything in skirts, and that he is not always gentle with a girl’s feelings. Mrs. Jenkins tsked a bit and said that Lady Beatrix has smothered the boy, kept him too close to home for far too long. ‘He’s chafing at the bit,’ she said. The tighter Lady Beatrix holds him, the wilder Mr. Ellerby becomes. Been especially bad this past year.”

Mira narrowed her eyes, considering the import of Nan’s information. It certainly explained Jeremy’s desire to elope, to untangle himself from his mother’s skirts.

“I also asked Mrs. Jenkins if any of the Ellerbys or their guests were cruel. Told her that my mother left the employ of a gentleman once because he beat her, broke her arm. I let on that I didn’t want to truck with anything like that.”

“Oh, Nan, is that true? Your poor mother!” Mira laid a comforting hand on Nan’s knee.