Home > Death at the Crystal Palace (Kat Holloway Mysteries #5)(3)

Death at the Crystal Palace (Kat Holloway Mysteries #5)(3)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

   “He does tend to go on a bit,” Mr. Thanos said apologetically. “But he is excited about an institute devoted to science and new discoveries. As am I. It will be wonderful to teach mathematics and theories to young men who have a true interest.”

   Young men who would understand what Mr. Thanos was talking about, he meant. Mr. Thanos had a brilliant mind, and we lesser mortals could not always follow him. He, however, did not always fathom social niceties, hence his invitation for me to join this outing, meet his employer, and render an opinion of a man far loftier than myself.

   “Do not worry.” Cynthia poked Mr. Thanos with her elbow. “Sir Arthur likes you. I could see that in the way he introduced you to his family. You are his pet mathematician. He expects great things from you, and you will give them to him.”

   Mr. Thanos’s smile dimmed. “I hope you are right.”

   “Nonsense. He wouldn’t have set you up in that lovely flat if he weren’t convinced you were the ticket. Cheer up. You’ll do well.”

   “Do you think so?” Mr. Thanos’s mouth pulled downward. “My first lecture is Monday evening, right here at the Crystal Palace. I hope I do not work myself into a muddle.”

   “No fear,” Cynthia said stoutly. “We shall all be in attendance. If they admit women to the lectures, that is. What a nuisance if they won’t.”

   Mr. Thanos looked puzzled. “I can’t imagine why ladies could not at least listen to the lectures. Scientific advancement benefits all.”

   “I will make certain of it.” Miss Townsend took a delicate sip of tea. “Cynthia and I will be there, and Bobby. Mrs. Holloway, you are welcome to join us.”

   She set her down her teacup, her fine kid gloves like a second skin to her slender fingers. Miss Townsend was ladylike and elegant to a fault, but I’d come to know that beneath this young woman’s modish exterior lay an intelligent mind and a steely will. If she determined that women could attend Mr. Thanos’s lecture, they would. She did not command me to accompany them, because she knew that Monday was my half day, and I spent my afternoon with Grace. She would leave the decision up to me.

   “Thank you,” I said. “I will give it some thought.”

   “I wouldn’t be half so nervous if I knew you were there, Mrs. Holloway.” Mr. Thanos sent me a wistful look. “You bolster my spirits. There’s nothing you wouldn’t face.”

   “You exaggerate, Mr. Thanos, but I know you are being kind.”

   I wished he’d said that Cynthia also would bolster his spirits, but he did not notice the omission, and neither did Cynthia. Cynthia and Mr. Thanos were a bit mired in the space between them, and they’d had gone no further than acknowledging they were friends.

   Miss Townsend managed to settle the cost of the tea—she had a private conversation with the headwaiter and herded us out soon after, and I never saw money change hands. Again, neither Mr. Thanos nor Cynthia seemed to notice a thing. They were an unworldly pair.

   Miss Townsend had us out of the Crystal Palace and heading for the train forthwith. I was grateful—I needed to return Grace to the Millburns’ and arrive home before the evening meal so Mrs. Bywater, Cynthia’s aunt, would not have reason to chide me. She and I had clashed recently, and I strove to return punctually to avoid further altercations.

   As we filed to the terrace overlooking the vast gardens, I glimpsed Lady Covington and her family near the base of the stairs and the great fountains there. Beyond, rose gardens and water features moved gently down the hill to lakes that bore islands full of antediluvian creatures.

   Sir Arthur was holding forth, waving his arm at the expanse of the park, probably giving a full lecture about it. Lady Covington adjusted her parasol against the sun, as though hiding her weariness at her brother’s pontification.

   I studied Lady Covington’s four children with interest. They did not bother to disguise their ennui with their uncle, the younger son, Jonathan, pointedly staring in the opposite direction. The four stood in two distinct groups, the older son and daughter to Sir Arthur’s left, the younger son and daughter to his right. Several yards of space separated the groups, giving them the air of strangers who happened to meet in the gardens of the Crystal Palace.

   “The youngest two are Lady Covington’s son and daughter from her first marriage.” Miss Townsend was at my elbow, her low voice in my ear. “The elder are her stepson and stepdaughter—the late Lord Covington’s children from his first marriage. The stepson, George, is now Baron Covington and lets no one forget it. Jonathan Morris, Lady Covington’s son, is a wild young man. Gets himself into scrapes, runs up debts.”

   And yet, Lady Covington had spoken of him as “dear Jonathan” and said what a help he was. Affection could make one blind to another’s faults, I well knew. Perhaps Lady Covington did not realize the extent of Jonathan’s misdeeds.

   “The younger daughter, Harriet Morris, is very much on the shelf and feels it keenly,” Miss Townsend went on. “The stepdaughter, Erica Hume, is the widow of a rather feckless MP. He left her penniless, and she’s entirely dependent on her brother and Lady Covington.”

   Erica held herself rigidly, her parasol at a precise angle. So unmoving was she that I envisioned a blow breaking her into a thousand brittle shards.

   The younger woman, Harriet, seemed more at ease, her blue plaid gown rippling in the breeze. Though she must be well into her twenties, she swiveled back and forth, like a child who longed to be elsewhere.

   “Why tell me this, Miss Townsend?” I glanced into her shrewd brown eyes and wondered if she’d seen me having the tête-à-tête with Lady Covington.

   “You like to know about people,” Miss Townsend replied smoothly. “And they are an interesting family. The lot of them live together in the house in Park Lane, as well as on an estate in Kent. Though George is now the baron and could heave them all, including his stepmother, to the pavement, it is Lady Covington who rules the roost.”

   “Perhaps the new Lord Covington is showing kindness to his stepmother and siblings.” I did not believe this was the case, but I always attempted to find good where none seemed to lie.

   “There is no kindness in George Broadhurst. He once asked me to marry him, as a matter of fact. I turned him down flat— I shudder to think what life would be, shackled to the likes of him. Now he sneers at me, as though I made the wrong choice. I had my chance to be Lady Covington, his contempt says, but ah well.”

   I did not press Miss Townsend for further details. Lady Cynthia and Mr. Thanos, who had been discussing a towering specimen of tree that I believed came from the Americas, joined us, and we turned for the railway station.

   The Crystal Palace had two stations—the High Level Station, which first-class passengers could reach through a tunnel from the Palace’s main entrance, and the Low Level Station, a short walk through the park. Miss Townsend, who’d booked the tickets, had chosen the Low Level, as it was a fine day, and we enjoyed the stroll through the gardens.

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)