Page 67 of Murder in Matrimony
“Good afternoon, Madge. Captain Fitz.” Amelia bobbed her head. “I was at Baker Biscuits, placing an order for the wedding breakfast.”
“I’m not sure if you know this, but Lady Tabitha despises factory-baked goods. I overheard her tell Aunt Gertthe most important aspect of a pastry is its freshness.” This she said with a deepness and vibrato intended to match Tabitha’s voice.
“Yes, well. Time restraints and all. Is there anything else you need before the … day?” asked Amelia, avoiding the wordwedding.
“We don’t require anything.” Madge raised her eyes in Captain Fitz’s direction. “Do we, love?”
“The clothes on our backs would suffice for me.” He chuckled.
Amelia could detect no lingering turmoil or hesitation between the couple, and she was thankful the difficulty had passed. Once they were at the altar, she would be able to release the last of her concerns. Until then, she would remain vigilant.
Her mother, beaming at the couple, appeared to have no such concern. She believed in her children with her whole heart. Nothing could dissuade her that they were the most wonderful people in the world. Everything they did was expected andcelebrated. Amelia sighed. If only she could have the same confidence.
Alas, she did not.
When Captain Fitz joined them for dinner, the long looks and soft whispers between him and Madge increased. Most of the company felt as her mother did about the interactions: amused and charmed by the young couple. They were lenient of their indulgences, ignoring them altogether when necessary. Even Simon, who joined the party, seemed unaffected. But to Amelia, their activities betrayed a notion she could not put her finger on. Madge had been upset by her wedding dress. How could she completely forget her reservations in twenty-four hours? Madge was temperamental, certainly, but she must also suffer from amnesia to resolve the problem so quickly.
After dinner, Amelia forestalled going into the drawing room with the women, instead asking Uncle Henry for a glass of his sherry.
Uncle Henry blinked innocently. “Why do you ask me, dear niece?”
She leveled a look at him. “Because I was present when Lord Bainbridge told you the address of his favorite liquor establishment.”
He laughed, placing his hands on his stomach. “Quite so. Quite so.”
Then he motioned to Bailey, whom Amelia had made certain would accommodate her family. Apparently, this was one of the accommodations. He reappeared with the sherry and glasses on a tray.
Uncle Henry took the proffered glass and drank it down immediately. “I say, good man. Don’t make yourself scarce just yet.” Bailey poured him a second glass.
Amelia refrained from doing the same. Instead, she took a small sip and said to Captain Fitz, “I am pleased you and my sister are on better terms.”
“I am pleased as well.” The captain took a long drink. “I believe it was the wedding arrangements that had her out of sorts. Once we got those out of the way, she was her happy self again.”
Amelia frowned. She had been the one to toil over the arrangements—she and Tabitha, to be honest. All Madge had to do was show up. But she understood how much Madge disliked formal gatherings. The idea of being the center of attention must have been unbearable to her.
“The dress, to be sure, the company, the breakfast,” Captain Fitz continued. “They were overwhelming. Her wants are few and simple. I’m sure you understand, Lady Amesbury, being her sister.”
“Indeed.” Amelia opted for another sip of sherry, this one longer.
“A second glass, Amelia?” prompted Uncle Henry, only too glad to have a fellow imbiber at his side.
Simon raised his eyebrows at her. He was thinking about their upcoming midnight break-in at Baker Biscuits. She knew he was. “No, thank you, Uncle. The women are waiting for me. It was very good though.”
“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” Uncle Henry winked, and the action transformed his craggy face to one of mirth and happiness. He signaled for a third glass of liquor.
Simon followed her into the hallway. “I understand your hiding the sherry now.”
“I thought you might.”
Simon cast a glance at the dining room door. “He is an old man. What can it hurt?”
“Stay until he takes to the pianoforte, and you’ll find out.” Amelia crossed her arms.
“The drink will be conducive to sleep at the very least.” His green eyes flickered with mischief. “No one will hear you slip down the servants’ staircase and into my carriage.”
Slipping anywhere with Simon sounded heavenly, and Amelia’s shoulders automatically relaxed. But Baker Biscuits wasn’t just anywhere. It was a stone’s throw from danger and violence. She must keep her wits about her if they were to be successful. Tomorrow was Sunday. They had a single opportunity to uncover the information. If they didn’t, they’d have to wait an entire week to try again. “Did Mr. Hamsted tell you he and Kitty are meeting us there?”
“He did. You’ve formed your own merry band of misfits to do your bidding, haven’t you, Amelia?” The words held no malice. They were tinged with excitement and anticipation and, dare she say, admiration?
