me mad.
And then it was done, coming to pass just as I had seen that it would. I had won.
I sat back, steepled my fingers, and said, “My grandfather was one of the best
chess players in all of England. He taught me. He was a very stern taskmaster.”
“I see,” he said, nothing more.
When he left me at the door of The Blue Room, he said, “You are accomplished for
one so young. I am proud of you for that, and perhaps that is a pity.” Then he
patted my cheek, as was his habit, and left me. I stood there wondering what he
had meant.
He was gone near dawn the following day. At seven o’clock in the morning, I was
still wondering what he had meant with those strange words when I let myself
into his study. I had been in this room before, but just to look at it for a
moment, nothing more. It was dark, that was my first impression. It was dark and
very somber. I didn’t like it. It was also frigidly cold. This was where he
worked with Swanson, his estate manager, a man I had only met twice now.
I pushed back the draperies. The morning was a leaden gray, snow was threatening.
But there was enough light for me to search. I went through every drawer in the
massive mahogany desk. Tradesmen’s bills, letters from his man of business in
London, the man I assumed he was going to see. Why wouldn’t a man of business
come to the patron and not the other way around? I didn’t know the answer to
that, since I knew next to nothing about anything to do with business dealings.
I kept looking. So many papers, so many neat piles, but nothing to give a hint
of anything at all nefarious or secret or in any way suggestive of wrongdoing.
It was frustrating. I heard someone clear their throat.
I jerked around to see Brantley standing in the doorway.
“Oh, it’s you, Brantley.” Never, never, back down in front of a servant or try
to explain yourself, Grandfather told me upon several occasions. If you do, you’ll
be buried. I gave Brantley a sunny smile. “What do you want?”
“Does your ladyship require a fire built?”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t found what I’m looking for, and I don’t think
that they’re here. Perhaps my papers are back in my bedchamber.”
I gave him a fat smile and waltzed out of that dark, depressing room.
I walked directly upstairs, turned right, and walked to the very end of that
long corridor. Thank God, Lawrence had taken his miserable valet Flynt with him.
I didn’t relish running into him while I was searching through Lawrence’s
dressing table drawers.
I had never before been in my husband’s suite of rooms. The door wasn’t locked.
I looked down the corridor. No one was about. I opened the door and quickly
stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind me. It was also frigidly cold in
the bedchamber. I could easily see my breath. Well, why should the servants
bother with a fire when no one was here? I shivered, slapped my arms, and forced
myself to get to work.
It was a huge room, long and narrow, and it was beautifully furnished with
exquisite chairs and tables and a magnificent bed with golden draperies looped
at the four corner posters, all the opulent gold and white of Louis XV. I was
seeing another side of my husband, the man whose belongings I was searching to
see if he was the monster who wanted to kill me.
There was irony in this, I thought, but I couldn’t think about that now. I went
through every drawer in that huge room. I found nothing at all. I went into his
dressing room, another chamber beautifully furnished, soft carpets on the floor.
There were several dressers, all of them gilded and exquisitely fashioned. I
found nail files, handkerchiefs, drawer after drawer of cravats beautifully
pressed. There were brushes, combs, shaving things. I opened every drawer. I
found nothing at all.
I walked back into the large bedchamber. I stood then in the middle of the room,