Sophia should think before she spoke. It would be a lesson well learned.
Fortunately, Daphne was too lost in her own thoughts to realize that Sophia had been tactless.
“I really don’t know why he thought so, but he was convinced of it.” Daphne stopped walking and turned toward Sophia. “Things are not as they should be, Sophia, not at all. We are still at sixes and sevens; I was not exaggerating when I wrote.” After taking a ragged breath, she continued. “I’m scared,” she said without a quiver of emotion in her voice—no melodrama.
Such stoic conduct from her cousin was more unnerving than tears. “What are you scared of, Daphne?” Sophia asked, trying to sound unruffled and in control of her own fears.
“I think someone is trying to kill me,” Daphne added in a whisper. Then, glancing at Mr. Fraser. “It’s likely nothing,” she said with a false laugh. “Just accidents, mistakes, lapses in judgment … nothing at all.”
Mr. Fraser frowned. “Accidents? What accidents?”
Daphne’s face puckered as she considered. “I tripped on a toy horse that had been left on the stairs,” she said. “Nearly tumbled down to the tiled floor of the entrance hall, but Sophia caught me.” She turned to Sophia, giving her a warm look of appreciation.
Mr. Fraser blinked in surprise. “A toy? Are there children at Allenton Park?”
“Exactly. You see the problem.” Daphne nodded with approval. “No, no children at Allenton. There haven’t been for some years. The toy came from the nursery, which hasn’t been used since I was a tot.”
Sophia had tried to find a reason for the toy being on the stairs but had yet to devise an alternative theory. She had questioned the butler on the way out the door, and when receiving no new information, she had questioned the footman. All to no avail; everyone was puzzled as to how the toy came to be on the stairs.
“And then last week, just before I wrote to Sophia—the reason I wrote to Sophia—a box of sweets arrived as a mysterious gift; the donor was not identified. They were placed on the front step with my name. Mrs. Curtis—our housekeeper—” she explained, “brought them up to me. I quite enjoyed the treats … but they made me sick as a dog. The physician thought that they might have gone off or been poisoned. Mother spoke to Constable Marley but he did not investigate—just suggested that we don’t eat anything left on our front step again.” She rolled her eyes.
“Weak advice. Not in the least helpful,” Sophia said, making a conscious effort to smooth her furrowed brow. She was rather put out with Constable Marley and his cavalier attitude.
“Why would anyone try to poison you?” Mr. Fraser asked. His tone was even and professional, but his eyes were stormy.
Sophia gazed up at the sky, paying little heed to the placement of her feet. “Did the box have a manufacturer’s label? We could find out who sells those type of sweets in town. They might be able to say who bought them. A description, at least, would be a start.”
Mr. Fraser leaned forward to look at Sophia. He tipped his head and frowned as if surprised by her question. “Excellent idea.”
Sophia smiled warmly at the young gentleman, inordinately pleased by the comment and his look of admiration.
“Yes, indeed, it is a good idea,” Daphne said as she shook her head. “But unfortunately, the box was thrown out long ago, and I didn’t notice anything on it before it was trashed. Just a plain white box with a blue ribbon.”
Once again, the three lapsed into silence, their footsteps in unison as they trudged up the hill. As they came to the crest, the whole of Allenton manor was laid out before them. The wide drive circled around a colorful bed of dahlias in the center of the lawn and continued up to the front door. The opening front door.
A female figure emerged, wearing a yellow day dress embroidered with winding leafy vines and small roses. Her full sleeves were cuffed at the wrists, and had flounces around the neckline. It was an elegant display that surprised Sophia; the ensemble exhibited a sophistication seldom seen outside London.
Daphne stiffened and then dragged in a heavy breath. “Charlotte is here.”
“Ah, so this is Charlotte,” Sophia said. “You’ve mentioned her several times but I do not recall who she is.”
“You’ve met, though I believe it would have been several years ago,” Daphne said, speaking quickly. “Last time you were in West Ravenwood, Charlotte would have been away at finishing school in Bath. She is Mrs. and Reverend Dewey’s daughter, but she has become quite attached to Mother. They plan charity events and the like throughout the year.”
Daphne’s voice became harsh and her steps slowed. “We are not particular friends. Though, as I said, she is great company for Mother.”
Sophia glanced in Mr. Fraser’s direction. She was not surprised to find that he was absorbed by the approach of Charlotte Dewey; Charlotte was a handsome young woman. Her features were striking—reddish blond hair, blue eyes and a wide mouth that dimpled under her cheeks. Looking demure and biddable, she bobbed a shallow curtsy when she reached the trio in the center of the drive.
“Hello, Charlotte,” Sophia said to fill the conversational void; it had suddenly gone silent. “It’s been a long time. I didn’t recognize you.”
“A long time, indeed, Miss Thompson,” Charlotte agreed, and then turned to Mr. Fraser. “Mr. Waverley is expecting you. That is … I mean … you are Mr. Fraser, are you not?” She continued after seeing his nod. “He is waiting in his study.” She moved to the side, allowing him space to step past her.
“Shall I do the introductions?” Sophia asked quickly, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. She didn’t want to see Mr. Fraser rush off right away.
After the presentations were complete, Sophia made certain to include Mr. Fraser in the niceties of health inquiries and weather comments before he decided that he would leave them to their chat. He offered a backhanded wave as he entered the manor, and the door closed behind him. Sophia was disappointed to see him go but turned back to Charlotte with a smile.
“I didn’t know you were coming today,” Daphne said. Her expression more than her words offered the question: Why are you here?
“I came by to visit with your mother, Daphne.” Charlotte flapped her hand over her shoulder in a wide swoop to indicate Allenton manor. “Mrs. Waverley wants to hold a charity event—something to benefit the poor of the parish. We’ve been considering a booth at the fair, a gala party, or contest of some sort. The funds would go toward the parish children’s education. It is most generous of her to take the time to organize such a thing.”
“Yes, Mother does enjoy helping the less fortunate.” Daphne glanced at the front door and took a half step in that direction. “And what did you decide?”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed, and her expression was pained. “Nothing yet. Our meeting has been postponed. Mrs. Waverley is distracted—rightfully so, but distracted nonetheless, by your father, Miss Thompson.” She glanced at Sophia.
“Aunt Hazel has not seen my father since Andrew’s funeral last year,” Sophia said. “They have much to discuss and news to relate.”