Page 23 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

October, 1899

CHAPTER TEN

“I still don’t understand why you would do anything so ridiculous,” Nicholas muttered as he helped me with the small case I had packed.

The ball had been two days ago. The following morning, he had sent me a note expressing his displeasure over my behaviour.

You’re not Cinderella and I am definitely no fairy godmother – what were you thinking disappearing like that? At least that little fool had the good sense to leave a glass slipper behind.

Today, we were travelling to Holland Hall. I was glad that he had not stopped berating me since he picked me up from my front door; it was a distraction, at least. If I thought too much about where we were headed then I started to feel sick.

“I have already told you,” I said patiently. “It was the right thing to do. I could tell he’d be caught up in the mystery. By vanishing I will have piqued his interest.”

Nicholas murmured something under his breath that was certainly not appropriate for the ears of a delicate young lady.

Fortunately, I was not one of those.

“Did he propose to Agatha that night?” I asked sweetly.

“Well, no,” he said. “But you couldn’t have predicted…”

“Why don’t you just let me do the job that you’re paying me to do?” I replied.

Lord Wynter had turned up with great fanfare this morning, along with two enormous carriages – one to carry all our luggage and the staff, and a second to transport me and his grandmother, who we would be collecting from her home in Surrey. I was not especially looking forward to that part.

The carriages were beautiful, gleaming things, bearing the Wynter family crest on the side – a horse rearing up on two legs, and a fox in the same position, either side of a shield.

Nicholas had brought along his groom, his valet and a maid called Matilda who I assumed was there to look after me. Matilda was young – a year or two younger than me, perhaps, with wide grey eyes, red hair and a snub nose. She had not batted an eyelid upon meeting me at the door to my boarding house, only bobbed a curtsey and murmured a polite greeting.

There was also an enormous and quite fierce-looking black stallion who Lord Wynter would ride while I reclined, demure and ladylike, in the carriage. The horse’s name was Felix, and I had run back into the kitchen so that I could feed him half an apple. His owner had snapped at me not to spoil him.

“He’s quite a gentleman,” I said, patting Felix’s neck.

“He’s a brute,” Nicholas replied.

Felix nuzzled softly at my hair and I laughed.

“Well, usually, anyway,” Nicholas grumbled.

It was far from a subtle travelling party, and despite the early hour, a crowd was gathering out in the road, peering at the extravagant coaches – and at Lord Wynter, who was as out of place as a panther roaming the streets.

Fortunately, they were not the type of crowd to spoil our plans. Nicholas had been unconcerned about collecting me from my lodgings, even when I had offered to meet him somewhere in town. I suppose he was right; after all, who was ever going to suspect Iris Grey and Serena Fox of being the same person? They came from totally different worlds.

I knew Mrs Turnbull would hear stories about my departure when she got home, but that was a problem for later. As far as she was concerned, I was off for a fortnight to visit family. The fact that I had not mentioned any family at all in the last two years had her itching to ask questions, I could tell, but I had just smiled close-lipped, and out of politeness she had accepted the information.

Madame, on the other hand, had been extremely unhappy that I needed to take two weeks off work to “attend to some family business”, and had threatened me with being sacked with such ferocity that this time I almost believed her. I had pointed out that orders were slowing down now that we were into autumn and the social season was over, and that I’d barely had so much as a day off in seven years.

“Honestly, Iris,” she had said at last, “you would think I was one of those awful factory bosses, overworking a poor urchin, the way you go on.” She had paused. “Visiting family, you say? I don’t recall you mentioning any before.”

I shrugged at that, and she had looked at me very hard.

“Just be careful,” she said and I had nodded. She had said no more, asked no further questions.

After all, everyone had their secrets.

Now, I gathered my skirts and climbed up into the carriage. I was wearing the dress I wore to church, though I rarely attended. I had made it myself and it was nothing that would embarrass even a society lady. Yes, it was simple, without adornment, but the severe lines looked elegant, and the cobalt-coloured shot silk was very fine. The inside of the carriage was spacious, the seats upholstered in powder-blue velvet, the walls lined with a darker blue silk. It seemed that I had dressed to match.

I was startled when Nicholas climbed in beside me.