Page 89 of Marigold and the Marquess
MARIGOLD LAY ONher back with a moist handkerchief over her eyes to lessen the hideous redness brought on by her tears.
There would be no more spilled.
Nor would she chase after Leo and fall to her knees begging him to come home with her. Ian had warned him. Her friends had warned him. She had shed a lake full of tears warning and begging him to let the appropriate authorities deal with his cousin.
If all this had not stopped him, then nothing would.
After ten minutes of lying quietly with the handkerchief over her eyes, she sat up and set it aside. Her maid happened to walk in just then. “Help me, Jenny. I need to fix my hair. And have Sterling order the carriage brought around. Oh, my husband didn’t take it, did he?”
“No, m’lady. He rode off on his horse.”
“Good. I won’t be gone long. If he returns before I do, just let him know that I’ve gone to the Huntsford Academy.”
“All right, m’lady? But won’t it be closing soon?”
“Yes, all the more reason for me to hurry. The new exhibit opens next week and I need to be certain all is proceeding according to schedule.”
It was not really necessary for her to check up on the work since Mr. Smythe-Owens was quite capable and did not really require close supervision. But she had yet to write her speech for the opening ceremony or finish preparing her lecture notes.
Seeing the exhibit would help get her thoughts organized again, especially now that they had been completely jumbled.
Two footmen accompanied her, positioned at the rear of the carriage as they slowly wended their way along Regent Street toward the Huntsford Academy. She peered out the window, worried she would arrive after the place had closed and make this trip a waste of time. But she had felt the need to get out of the house.
To her relief, they reached their destination with twenty minutes to spare.
This would give her plenty of time to view the dragon exhibit, make her comments, and check out anything else that caught her eye. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smythe-Owens,” she said with cheer, spotting the amiable curator as she entered the Hall of Dragons that was now emptying of visitors since it was nearing closing time. “I’ve come to see the progress. Do you have a few minutes for me?”
He cast her a genuine smile. “Yes, of course.”
He called over two of his assistants and instructed them to supervise closing of the museum. “Check every nook and cranny. Make certain everyone leaves.”
“Yes, Mr. Smythe-Owens,” they said in unison and scurried to attend to the task.
The curator now gave his attention to her. “Lady Muir, I think you will be delighted with the work done so far. We used Miss Appleby’s drawings as a guide to recreate the primordial atmosphere. It will thrill everyone who views the display.”
Adela, before becoming Duchess of Huntsford, had formed an explorer’s club when growing up in her Devonshire town of Dartmouth. Miss Appleby and a few other like-minded adventurers had joined, but their numbers never rose above ten. It was a very small but enthusiastic club. Marigold had gotten to know them quite well while working with Adela at the Devonshire dig.
The members of the Devonshire explorer’s club devoted every free moment to hunting for relics among the seaside caves. Their hunts usually yielded little success until the day Adela discovered a group of previously unexplored caves hidden amid an overgrowth beside a cliff.
Miss Appleby was a talented artist and Marigold was eager to see the latest drawings she had sent. “Oh, my. These are stunning.” Then she saw the display that was hidden behind a tall drape and cordoned off to keep visitors from wandering in while the work was ongoing.
It was as though she had walked into one of Miss Appleby’s drawings.
She looked up to view the giant creature hovering above her, its wings spanning almost from wall to wall. The back wall had been painted to evoke the scene of an untrampled world, one filled with gray mist, lush vegetation, and ominous caves. The sun was a tiny golden ball tucked away in a corner and barely noticed amid the trees which were also a part of the painting and dominated the back wall.
Prominent was the large skull, for the flying creature had been displayed as though swooping down for a kill.
This was her skull.
She had found it.
Of course, it did not belong to her. However, she had pride of discovery.
She smiled at the curator. “It is magnificent. Thank you for doing an excellent job. One almost feels the creature is alive. I cannot wait for the opening ceremonies. What a day it shall be.”
“We’ll require additional guards on duty,” he said, pursing his lips as he thought about the event. “The crowd will be large and there will be a rush to the Hall of Dragons. His Grace has engaged Mr. Barrow and his Bow Street runners. They seem to be very busy just now and I have not been able to get anyone’s attention to review the security concerns. It has been days now and I’ve received no answer to my request for a meeting.”
“Oh, I will see what I can do for you.” She did not want to mention the Denby investigation. “As a matter of fact, I can stop by his office on my way home and leave word for him.”
