Page 58 of Murder in Matrimony
Amelia tried a different approach. “Have you told Captain Fitz your concerns?”
Madge was immediate in her answer. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Amelia pressed. “He is a reasonable man. I’m certain he shares some of your anxieties. No one is born to be a husband or father.” She sat next to her sister on the small dressing bench. “I was terrified to meet Winifred. All the way to London, Edgar talked of his niece and how incredible she was. He adored her. I worried she would not like me, that she would resent my presence.” Thinking back to the moment, Amelia shook her head with a smile. “As it turned out, my fears were unwarranted. When we met, I felt the concern we shared for Edgar. I couldn’t imagine my life without Winifred now. I think most mothers feel that way.”
Madge didn’t speak for several moments. “You’re right, Amelia. I never thought of you as motherly, but seeing you with Winifred has changed my mind. Your relationship is good. Natural, even. Nothing forced or put on, on either side.”
“It is as if I’ve known her my entire life.” Winifred was a subject Amelia could discuss at length but curtailed for the situation’s sake. The marriage was to take place in less than a week. If Madge didn’t figure out her feelings soon, they would face the consequences of inaction. “Will you talk to him then?”
“I will.” Madge dipped her chin, determination overtaking her visage. “He’s a sensible man, a strong man. He fought in the Crimean War. Surely my anxieties will be nothing in comparison.”
Captain Fitz would be concerned, perhaps even hurt, but Amelia didn’t see any other alternative. Honesty was a cornerstone of marriage. It might be an uncomfortable conversation, but one that needed to take place all the same.
With a plan made, Amelia joined her sisters, whose dresses were every bit as lovely as Madge’s. Light blue was perfect for showcasing the Scotts’ complexion and auburn hair, and Amelia quickly determined her own dress was as adequately made as theirs. After selecting gloves and bonnets, they were ready fora respite. Amelia was looking forward to a nice cup of tea when, with surprise, she noted the entrance of Mrs. Rothschild.
Mrs. Rothschild was collecting a donation for the Children’s Society autumn bazaar, and Miss Hernandez committed to giving cloth and scraps for new dresses. Amelia scolded herself for not sending her own monetary donation and determined to do so immediately when she returned home. First, however, she was going to use the opportunity to ask Mrs. Rothschild about her daughter’s recent gifts. Perhaps she knew the reason her daughter could afford them or another explanation that would account for the extravagance.
“Mrs. Rothschild,” Amelia said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Mrs. Rothschild was likewise surprised to see Amelia but quickly overcame her alarm with a genuine smile. It was indeed the only warm spot of her personage, for she wore a long black coat, shabby and dull, that covered any detail that might lie under it. “Lady Amesbury.”
“My mother and sisters are just there, looking at slippers.” Amelia tipped her chin in the direction of her family. “They are from Somerset and not accustomed to so fine a selection as Miss Hernandez has here.”
“I assume they find the city quite different from the country.”
“Very much so,” Amelia said. “I am glad we met today. First, I must promise my donation for the orphanage is forthcoming. With the wedding fast approaching, I haven’t had the chance to send it.”
The way Mrs. Rothschild accepted the excuse, with a barely perceptible nod, told Amelia she was accustomed to excuses.
“Second, I’ve had a question on my mind about your daughter Rose,” Amelia continued.
The sadness of Mrs. Rothschild’s life was so close to the surface that it flickered up in an instant upon the mention of her daughter’s name. Her eyes shone with keen interest. “Yes?”
The shop door opened, and Amelia drew her into the corner. “I see you’re wearing your beautiful necklace again.” Indeed, it was the only item on her person that sparkled.
“I never take it off.”
“I understand why.” Amelia smiled. “It must have cost your daughter a good deal.”
“A fortune, I am sure.” Mrs. Rothschild touched the necklace as if to make sure it was still there. “Rose was considerate that way, too giving. Too kind.”
“Yes, it was a very thoughtful gift.” Amelia considered her next words a moment. “Before Mr. Cross’s death, I believe she might have given him new books for his library. I noticed them on his bookshelf, and I wondered about the expense.”
A furrow sprung up on Mrs. Rothschild’s brow. “Books, you say?”
Amelia nodded. “A newly released set of three serials.”
“That is curious … she gave Mrs. Hines a new cane as well.” The furrow deepened. “Not just any cane. A walking stick with an ivory handle. Rose was proud of the gift and said Milly wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with it, even in the finest establishments.” She blinked. “Lady Amesbury, how could it be? How could she have had the money to buy so many gifts?”
“It was my question as well.” Amelia wished for answers, not another question. The cane confirmed, however, that Miss Rothschild had come into some money. Amelia just needed to know how. “Have you talked to her employer since the accident? Perhaps someone sent their condolences?”
“No, never, and I did not seek out an acquaintance. After her accident, I was angry. Resentful. She had worked so hard, and they seemed to care so little.” She glanced at the window. “My husband said it was always the way in factories. People are little more than machines in them.” Her eyes flicked back to Amelia. “He said Mr. Cross and I were wrong to encourage her to find work outside of the pub. Maybe he was right.”
Amelia stepped closer. “This isn’t your fault. You did what you thought was right by her, and so did Mr. Cross. You must stop blaming yourself.”
Mrs. Rothschild averted her eyes, remaining silent.
“Would it be all right if I talked to your friend, Mrs. Hines? Perhaps your daughter told her where she received the money for the walking stick.”
