Celia (A Sinclair Society Novella)

Chapter Three

After passing what had to be the most restless night I'd ever endured, I was surprised when one of the maids brought in a tea tray. "Where is Nelson?" I asked, sitting up. "Is she unwell?"

The young woman set the tray down by my bed. "No, my lady," she answered. "Sir Horace asked to see her in the library. Miss Nelson asked me to bring your tea for you right away. She didn't want you to be kept waiting."

I knew without looking at the clock that it was too early for tea. "The library, you say?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Thank you. I don't need anything right now."

As soon as the door closed, I swung my legs off the bed. I should have guessed that Horace would want to question Juliet. After Mr. Stone, the steward, had made such a fuss about her, it should have been obvious that he would take his complaints to my husband as soon as he could.

Juliet Sinclair. Since she had come to Clarendon with me, she had gone from a personal servant to a close friend. I sympathized with her quest to learn the truth and admired the bravery it took to do what she did.

It wasn't every day that a young lady of good family chose to take up a menial position simply to learn something. Juliet had not only done that, but had continued to do so to follow the clues she learned. And her clues had led her to Clarendon and my husband.

After the conversation with Horace, I was very much afraid that he was the man Juliet was seeking.

Shaking my head, I grabbed my dressing gown and put it on. Improper attire for meeting anyone outside of my bedroom, but I hoped it would make a point. At least there would be no one in the hallway to see me.

Well, I'd forgotten about the maids going about their early morning routine. They all bobbed curtsies, keeping their eyes averted. What kind of stories would be spread below stairs?

When I reached the library, the door was closed. My first instinct was to press my ear against the wood, but that would only make me look ridiculous. Instead, I slowly opened the door and peeked in.

Clarendon was not the largest house in the county, but it did have enough space for an office and a library. The library was one of my favorite rooms in the house. The mahogany shelves were filled with books all around the small room. The dark color made the space seem smaller.

There was one more person than I was expecting. Mr. Oswyn Harper was leaning against the fireplace mantel, looking the very picture of a gentleman at ease. Well, at least now I knew who one of my husband's guests was. Why was he taking part in the interrogation of my personal maid?

"I know there was only one made and yet this is an exact copy," my husband was saying. In his hand was a paper I knew all too well. The cipher! "The hand alone is different. At some point, you must have seen the original and made a copy. How did you come to have it? Come. Tell me!"

"She had it because I asked for her assistance in finding the key to solving the cipher," I announced, stepping into the room. "She was comparing it to the poems in the book Miss Hanson removed the cipher from."

My husband jumped to his feet, dropping the cipher onto the desk. "Celia! What are you doing here?"

Mr. Harper straightened up from where he had been leaning against the mantle, giving the appearance of a man at leisure. He managed to make a bow, though there was embarrassment in his expression. "Good morning, Lady Leith. I was not expecting to see you at this hour of the morning."

I didn't respond to him. "Really, why did you not speak to me about this before I asked, staring at my husband. "Nelson answers to me and no other person. Not even you, Horace."