I turned to Florence. “I left my gloves inside. I’ll be right back. You can get settled in the carriage.”
Still alert, I went back inside with Willa. Aunt Geraldine and the servants who’d come out to see the commotion followed us.
“I believe I left my gloves in the parlor,” I said, walking quickly in that direction. I managed to check in every chamber on the way there. Nothing seemed off. When the gloves weren’t found in the parlor, nor in the dining room, I said, “I must have brought them up to your chamber when you showed me your new earbobs, Willa.”
She seemed startled at the idea, but after my impatient gesture, she led the way. As we approached, I sensed someone within. I stopped, holding out a hand to stop her beyond the door, and I peered into the room.
Just as I thought. It was the delivery boy. He stood at the window, looking out into the growing darkness. But he was too slight to be Pix.
“And what have we here?” I stepped into the chamber. Willa gasped behind me, and I shook off her grip. “Stay back,” I warned just as the clock struck half-past eight.
When I heard the sound of the chimes, I stopped. Then I began to chuckle ruefully and gestured for Willa to join me inside the room.
The delivery boy, who was rather tall and slender, turned from the window. He swept off his cap and shucked his coat, then peeled off a false chin and pug nose.
“Good evening, Miss Ashton. Evaline. I trust you had an enjoyable supper?”
Miss Holmes
Wherein Miss Holmes Becomes Chilled
Once Miss Ashton recovered from my unexpected appearance, she found the same humor in the situation as Miss Stoker did. They both plied me with questions.
“So it was just a pile of old blankets in the street?”
“I had to ensure everyone would run from the house at the same time, so I could remain inside, and unnoticed after my delivery. My uncle executed a similar plan when he was engaged in the Adler-Bohemian king case. It worked quite well, although the circumstances were very different.”
“And you arranged for the man in the carriage to drop those blankets and set off a small explosion—”
“Just at the precise moment. I didn’t know you’d be standing on the porch, but that simply made it all the more successful.”
Evaline was fidgeting. “Florence is waiting in the carriage. I’m leaving. Good luck tonight.”
“What do you have planned—” I began, but she slipped out before I could finish my sentence. I wondered what she had up her sleeve.
Nevertheless, there was nothing I could do about Evaline and her tendency to hare off on adventures without taking the necessary precautions, so I turned my attention to the more pressing matter of examining the bedchamber.
Once I assured myself Miss Ashton’s room was free of any devices or mechanisms, I settled into a chair behind the dressing screen to wait.
I had instructed Willa to act normal as the remainder of the evening progressed. She was also to keep her maid from going behind the screen and—if possible—to keep her from the chamber as much as she could. It wasn’t that I suspected the maid. I simply wanted to ensure that no one except Willa knew I was in the house.
I’d purchased more yarn during my travels today, and now I sat, needles clicking quietly, and contemplated. Grayling’s description of the murder suspect in the Yingling situation both helped and hindered some of my theories. Unfortunately, the physical characteristics fit all the main suspects I’d been considering—Aunt Geraldine, Cousin Herrell, and the Nortons—either one or both of them. His information did, however, eliminate the black-haired, taller Mr. Treadwell, and the light-haired and shorter Miss Fenley.
I knitted faster, mulling over Grayling’s final words to me. Heroic. Foolish, but heroic.
Was that meant to be some sort of apology? My needles flashed and clicked as I remembered the way he looked down at me, standing in the corridor at Scotland Yard.
I realized my ball of yarn was finished and I had a long, narrow swath of . . . something. So I dug out a second ball and kept knitting.
Tomorrow, I intended to visit Louisa Fenley again. I meant to confront her about her quackery and use that as leverage to wrest further information from her—namely, whether she’d been hired to fool Miss Ashton. I also believed Miss Fenley’s skills could be of great use to me in my investigations.
“Good night, Mina,” Willa murmured just loud enough for me to hear. She was finally ready for bed. “Thank you for being here.”
I stepped out from behind the screen, still holding my yarn. The cat eyed me from her post on Willa’s bed, blinking once. “Sleep well. If something happens, I urge you to simply act as you normally do. Don’t call out to me or acknowledge my presence in any way.”
“I won’t.” She turned out the lamp. I heard her rustling under the covers, and then silence.
I moved the dressing screen aside so I could see the moonlit window—which remained open to an unusually balmy summer night—and the closed door, and I could also watch Willa’s bed. Then I settled back in my seat and continued with my knitting and my contemplations.
The house settled into silence around us. Sometime later, a clock struck midnight. And then half-past.
Herrell Ashton—deeply in debt, currently controls the finances and could eventually inherit. Encourages Willa’s séance experiments. Close friends with Dr. Norton. Easy access to household.
Aunt Geraldine—would inherit Willa’s money. Easiest access to the household and séance chamber. Does not encourage Willa’s spirit-talking.
Amanda Norton and/or Dr. Norton—A match between Amanda and James Treadwell was desirable. The doctor would be an excellent resource for committing Willa to a madhouse, thus getting the rival out of the way for a romance between Amanda and Mr. Treadwell.
Was there a money issue for the Nortons? What was their financial situation like? Did Mr. Treadwell have wealth to bring to a match? I realized I needed to consult the Kimball’s.
The clock struck two.
Willa sat up suddenly.
I immediately put down my knitting. I wasn’t certain if she’d seen or heard something or had awakened for some other reason.
A sound caught my attention. A soft whirring, the faintest buzz. . . . I discerned a faint blue light emitting from the corner of the chamber.
Willa climbed out of bed and walked toward the blue glow, which grew brighter by the moment. She clearly wasn’t aware of her surroundings, and I knew better than to wake someone who was engaged in the act of sleep-walking.