Page 66 of Murder in Matrimony
“Oh, no.” A cheerful smile overtook Mr. Jefferies’ dark expression. “All recipes are kept under lock and key in the office mixing book. No one goes in or out of there except Mr. Baker.”
Amelia indicated her satisfaction, and Mr. Jefferies continued completing the order. She gave Kitty a look that explained the next order of business. They must get their hands on the mixing book. It could confirm the biscuit recipe was Mrs. Rothschild’s. But how? The only day the factory workers were not present for their double shifts was Sunday.Tomorrow.
They must break in after midnight.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Dear Lady Agony,
A good many women are taking up a habit reserved for men: the after-dinner drink. I’ve seen two women in as many months opt for a glass of port after a large meal. What is the reason behind it, and what if it continues? I cannot imagine the men want us drinking with them.
Devotedly,
Tea for Me
Dear Tea for Me,
Two women in two months? That is not many. From the tone of your letter, one would think women everywhere are assaulting the liquor cabinet. But to answer your questions, the reason is enjoyment, and the consequence is happiness. A drink after dinner hurts no one, only your sensibilities. Rid yourself of them, and all will be well.
Yours in Secret,
Lady Agony
Amelia returned from Baker Biscuits to find Captain Fitz and Madge in a tête-à-tête in the drawing room. It was music to her ears to hear them conversing like civilized adults. After finding Captain Fitz in the gooseberry bush and Madge upstairs shut away in her room yesterday, Amelia wondered if the couple would ever reconcile. Now it appeared the wedding would take place after all.Thank heavens!The tormenting hours had come to nothing.
“It’s a good omen, isn’t it?” whispered Mrs. Scott behind her shoulder.
“Gracious.” Amelia jumped. “You startled me.”
“You’re not the only one who listens at closed doors.” Her mother tweaked her arm. “I would scold you if I weren’t doing likewise, but desperate times require desperate measures, as they say, and the situation is as desperate as any I’ve known. What would have happened if she called off the wedding?”
Amelia cringed. “I do not even want to consider the possibility.”
“Lady Tabitha would have disowned you, and the Fitz family would have cut you.” Mrs. Scott’s face turned as white as the hand she brought to her mouth.
“I said I didnotwant to consider the possibility.” Amelia heard a small laugh from behind the closed door and paused, listening. Her shoulders relaxed with the noise. “Did you talk to Madge today?”
“I did,” confirmed Mrs. Scott. “When you left with Mrs. Hamsted, she finally came out of her room, completely ravenous. It was as if she had overcome an illness. She ate an entire plate of cold chicken, three biscuits, and two cherry tartlets. I asked her if she shouldn’t resist, for the sake of the wedding dress, but she said Captain Fitz didn’t care a fig about the wedding dress, and neither did she. As you can imagine, I went quite silent at the comment, but she continued by saying she’d had a fine letter from the captain, who would be calling upon her later.” She pointed to the closed door. “They have been in there for half an hour, and I have heard only happy murmurings.”
“And Lettie? Is she in there also?” Amelia hoped someone was present who could report back the generalities of the conversation. She needed assurance that the wedding would take place as planned and that the couple felt assured of their direction.
Mrs. Scott shook her head. “Lady Tabitha said it wasn’t necessary. She said they are engaged and could enjoy a few moments of privacy.” She looked over her shoulder. “As you know, she didn’t witness the commotion yesterday, and perhaps Mrs. Addington did not tell her of it. Lady Tabitha has been so pleased with Aunt Gertrude’s cookery that the two women have been exalting each other’s recipes for the better part of an hour.”
Amelia smiled. “Aunt Tabitha will miss Gertrude when she leaves.”
“Don’t worry your head about that, dear.” Mrs. Scott had the ability to make Amelia feel seven years old again and did so now with a simple tilt of her face. “Madge tells me that she and the captain will be living in London until a property becomes available. Aunt Gertrude plans to visit frequently.”
Amelia squeezed the bridge of her nose briefly, convincing herself that having family nearby was good. She and Madge would be able to visit all the time. Every day, even. Aunt Gertrude would have an excuse to come to town. They all would. Amelia swallowed. She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to think about the wedding. Once they were married, all else would fall into place. “Did she say that today? They will be married?”
Mrs. Scott put an arm around Amelia. “Of course they’ll be married. Believe it or not, Madge’s behavior is not unnatural. Certainly, she has been more vocal than most brides, but that’s her way. You worry too much. In fact.” Here, she pulled back, studying Amelia. “You look thin. What else is bothering you?”
“It’s nothing, Mama.” Amelia smiled. She was not thin. Many more catastrophes would have to befall her before she’d be considered thin. But her mother was right about her anxieties. While she felt closer than ever to finding justice for Miss Rothschild, she did not feel any closer to solving Mr. Cross’s murder. She tried to tell herself that he would be happy. After all, it was news of Rose Rothschild that he sent through the curate. But what of him and his work? She’d never had a priest for a friend before, and she felt as if she’d let him down. If only she could find a connection between the two, she might bring them both justice.
Suddenly, the drawing room door opened, and Madge greeted Amelia. Her face was flushed so prettily that it reminded Amelia of the afternoons Madge spent behind the inn, chasing dragonflies. Amelia was often tasked with watching her, but she never minded the responsibility. Seeing her auburn curls bounce over her shoulders while attempting something so silly and futile was often the highlight of Amelia’s day. Most times,Madge convinced her to play also, and Amelia would lose whatever maturity she’d gained, feeling the same age as her sister in a matter of minutes. It was good to be a child.
Her sister looked almost childlike in her happiness now—delighted. Madge could be herself with Captain Fitz, and he could be likewise with her. She didn’t need an elaborate wedding gown to make him think she was pretty, nor did she need decorative words to understand how he felt. It was the same feelings she and Simon shared, a giving of oneself to another without pretense. The idea made her want to run to Simon and declare her feelings for him. But they were aware of their feelings for one another. Even Aunt Tabitha had come to terms with them. It was now up to them to decide what to do with them.
“Amelia!” Madge declared. “I was looking all over for you.”
