“Of course.”
I decided to intervene before the blush on our hostess’s face caused her honey-blond hair to go up in flames—and the daggers from Miss Norton’s eyes actually pierced someone. “Moffett’s Corner is one of my favorite places to get a ham and pickle sandwich. Did you enjoy yours, Mr. Treadwell?”
He blinked and set down his teacup. “Indeed I did, Miss Holmes. How did you know I was there . . . and what I had to eat?”
“I noticed the corner of a wrapper sticking from your pocket, and from the type of dust on your hat—which is from the chalk factory near Gatfield—I was easily able to deduce which train you rode this morning. Therefore I knew you’d passed by Moffett’s—one of the only three shops in London that use that type of paper to wrap their food. There is a bit of mustard juice on the wrapper, which indicated the type of sandwich you chose.”
“Why . . . that’s extraordinary!”
Miss Stoker reached for a lemon biscuit. “Mina does that all the time. She even tells the Met how to investigate crimes.”
My cheeks heated under the sudden regard from the others. “It’s a simple matter of observation and deduction.”
“Oh, Mr. Treadwell, I’d almost forgotten. I have the handkerchief you lent me. I was splattered with mud from a bicycle passing by.” Miss Norton directed the latter part of her explanation to the rest of us as she extracted the fabric from her reticule. “It was very kind of you to see me home afterward.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Norton. I’m relieved you seem to have suffered no further damage than some mud spots on your gloves.” He folded it neatly and tucked it into an inside pocket.
“Indeed, I have not.” Her smile was warm and wide, but I could see the underlying tension.
I transferred my attention to Miss Ashton, curious as to whether she noticed the undercurrents that were glaringly obvious to me. She turned to the tea service, adjusting the cloth napkins and replacing the top of the Sweet-Loader. She still sported a faint flush on her cheeks, but now her lips were firm and drawn.
A moment later, after our hostess remained unusually quiet, Mr. Treadwell rose reluctantly. “I’ve taken your time long enough, Miss Ashton. Please give your cousin my best, and perhaps I will see him at the Parshalls’ card party on Saturday.”
“Oh.” Miss Ashton’s face lit up once more. “I believe he is planning to attend. I begged him to escort me, and he has agreed. So we—er, he—shall see you there.”
“I shall be doubly anticipatory of that evening, then,” he said with a little bow.
“My word! Look at the time!” Miss Norton fairly bolted to her feet. “I must be leaving too, Willa. Terrible news about Mrs. Yingling. We shall have to find another medium for our séances straightaway. But in the meanwhile, I am late for a fitting at Madame Burnby’s. Would it be too much to ask for me to share your carriage, Mr. Treadwell? I fear if I wait for a hack, I’ll be even more tardy and will lose my appointment.”
“Oh . . . why, of course I will see you to the shop. It would be my pleasure.”
It would clearly be hers as well. Well played, Miss Norton.
They took their leave, but before I could resume my questioning in regards to Mrs. Yingling, Miss Stoker said, “He seems quite taken with you, Miss Ashton.”
“Who? Oh, oh . . . you mean Mr. Treadwell.” Our hostess dropped her gaze. “I’m certain that’s an exaggeration. He’s so kind to everyone. He’s a friend of Herrell’s.”
“Your cousin lives here with you, then?” I was determined to take control of the conversation.
“No, but since returning from his European tour, he spends a lot of time here. His townhouse had a fire and he hasn’t found permanent new rooms. Or he stays at his club, if he’s in Town. Robby and I have been living with Aunt Geraldine since Mother passed on—Father died ten years ago, and I hardly remember him—and thus my cousin has taken it upon himself to act as an older brother would.” Her expression was so sad, even I felt a twinge.
Evaline patted Miss Ashton’s hand. “It must be very difficult for you. But we want to help.”
“Do you think you could find Robby? Is that why Princess Alix sent you? I didn’t have an opportunity to ask when you visited before.”
I shook my head. “She sent us because she’s concerned about your . . . attachment . . . to spirit-talking. That perhaps you’re being . . . taken advantage of. Or—”
“I’m not mad.” She drew herself up, sudden fire in her eyes. “And I’m not delusional. I don’t believe Robby is dead. And there is no doubt my mother has been speaking to me through these séances.”
Silence hung over the parlor, broken only by the soft plopping of the Sweet-Loader dropping an excessive number of sugar lumps into Evaline’s tea.
“We mean no offense, Willa—may I call you Willa?” asked my companion at last.
“Of course.” She rubbed her forehead, covering her face with a trembling hand. “I apologize for my outburst. It’s just that Aunt Geraldine keeps harping on me about this. She is furious that I am spending my money and time on séances. Even after she attended yesterday’s session, she’s become even more insistent I cease working with mediums. But I cannot seem to let it go. My visits from Mother are real. And she’s telling me what I already know: that Robby is still alive . . . and in danger. But . . .” She bit her full lip. Her breathing sounded harsh in the tense, silent chamber. “I must be truthful, mustn’t I, Miss Holmes? If you are to help me?”
“Of course. You must tell me everything.”
Willa nodded. “Very well, then. You see . . . Mother visits me at night too, in that greenish cloud. She is begging me to save Robby. And . . . there are times, great spots in my day, that are blank. And empty. As if . . . they’ve been erased.” Now she raised her face, her cerulean eyes wide and guileless. “I am afraid, Miss Holmes. I’m afraid.”
Miss Holmes
Coincidences and Conveniences
At Willa Ashton’s announcement, I glanced at Evaline, then back at our hostess. “Considering the fact that Mrs. Yingling was murdered, in my opinion you should be apprehensive.” My words were purposely blunt, for I wanted her full attention.
“Murdered?”
“I’m afraid there is no doubt. And I’m just as certain her untimely death is related to your situation.”