Dressed for Death Read online

  © 2016 by DeAnna Julie Dodson

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-2939-7

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by Faceout Studio

  Cover illustration by John Mattos

  Author is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency

  To the One who is forever faithful

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Julianna Deering

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  One

  Tell me again why I let you talk me into this?” Drew Farthering tugged at the starched cravat tied high under his chin and made a face at the little boy sniggering at him from the back seat of the Morris Eight passing on the other side of the road. He felt all kinds of fool driving through Hampshire dressed like a Regency buck, beaver hat, walking stick and all, but those were the rules. At least it wasn’t a long drive.

  Madeline swatted him with one white-gloved hand. “Leave that alone. Plumfield did a beautiful job tying it, and I don’t want it ruined before we even get there.”

  He sighed, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

  “You let me talk you into this, darling,” Madeline said, “because you adore me and it was the only thing I wanted for our anniversary.”

  “Ah, yes, the ever-glorious tenth of December, 1932. Still, six months isn’t a proper anniversary, you know.” He huffed, hiding his smile from her. “You’re just trying to set Nick up with your friend Carrie again.”

  She did look perfectly fetching in her white muslin dress and short Spencer jacket. A broad-brimmed straw hat, trimmed with silk violets and held on with a wide cherry-colored ribbon just the shade of the jacket, finished the picture. She obviously knew just how tempting she was.

  “Not again,” she said. “Still. And this time he won’t have to be running around seeing to everything at the estate. They’ll both have a whole week of enjoying themselves and getting to know each other better.” She slipped her arm through Drew’s and snuggled against him. “I’m glad your friends don’t mind if we bring them along.”

  “Old Cummins? Of course he doesn’t mind. The more the merrier, that’s his motto. His wife’s a bit quieter, but I’m sure you’ll like her. They’re both perfectly grand. A bit Victorian, mind you, yet not stuffy. Oh, Tal and his fiancée will be there, as well. He and Nick and I will have a chance to catch up. Haven’t seen him since Oxford.”

  “What’s he like?” Madeline asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “He’s a good chap. Good at history and languages, though no head for figures at all. He’d have punked out in mathematics if Nick hadn’t pulled him through. Can’t tell you I was much better. Oh, I say!”

  The Rolls-Royce crested a hill, giving them a glorious view of Winteroak House, the Cummins estate. It gleamed white in the lush sea of green grass surrounding it, a grand manor house in the Georgian style, three floors high and at least fifteen windows wide. The entrance was grander still with columns and a marble bas-relief of the family coat of arms above the doorway. No matter if the family belonging to the coat of arms happened to have sold the house decades before.

  “I’ve always thought it a nice view of the Solent,” Drew said, and she frowned.

  “What’s that?”

  “The Solent? It’s right there, between this shore and the Isle of Wight over there. We used to go bathing in the water every day when we came down here. And we’d dig fossils on the beach and in the old caves. It was grand.”

  Madeline sat up, eyes shining as she looked down on it all. “How long has it been since you’ve been here?”

  “Oh, several years now. I’d forgotten how nice it is. Tal had Nick and me down from school during the hols a few times. That is when we weren’t up at Farthering Place. I think my parents spent some time here with Mr. and Mrs. Cummins when they were first married, but mostly the Cumminses came up to visit us.”

  “I hope Nick won’t be late,” she said, looking back at the road behind them. “Carrie’s ship was supposed to be in at two-ten.”

  “Don’t worry, darling. There’s no chance he’ll miss that ship. Not since he knows Carrie’s on it. Once they get in, though, they’ll all have to change into the right togs before they come out here. And you know how girls are about taking forever to dress.”

  She pursed her lips. “And you swore it was worth the wait.”

  “I said you were worth the wait.” He squeezed her a little closer to him. “And I’ll stand by that statement, but I can’t answer for anyone else. I suppose they could have gotten here before us, but we won’t know till we get inside.”

  By then they were at the park gates. A bewigged and liveried servant bowed deeply as Drew brought the Rolls to a stop.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  He held out his hand, and Drew gave him their invitation.

  “Welcome to Winteroak House, Mr. and Mrs. Farthering.” He opened Madeline’s door and handed her out as another servant swung open the gates. “If you would go through, madam, sir, Dryden will drive you down to the house.”

  Dryden, standing beside a vintage barouche pulled by perfectly matched bays, tipped his hat.

  Drew frowned and got out of the car. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we drove to the house? I mean, I wouldn’t want anyone to have to bother with the Rolls and all that.”

  “Beg pardon, sir,” said the first man, “but Mr. Cummins is very particular on this point. He says we’re not to allow anything less than a hundred years old past the gates. Guests excepted, of course. Jimmy here will see to your car and have your luggage brought up nice as you please.”

  Drew glanced at the boy, who couldn’t have been older than sixteen, then at the Rolls, and then pleadingly at Madeline. Eyes twinkling, she took his arm and drew him toward the barouche.

  “It’ll be fine, darling,” she murmured as the boy handed Drew his beaver hat and walking stick and then hopped behind the wheel.

  “Not to worry, gov,” said the boy as he revved the engine. “I’ll treat ’er better than me own gran.”

  Then with a spatter of
gravel he and the Rolls were gone.

  Drew looked longingly after them and sighed. “All right, Mrs. Farthering, shall we?”

  She made a brief curtsy, head modestly lowered. “Thank you, sir.”

  Before they reached the barouche, another car came over the rise and pulled up to the gates. It was Nick in the Daimler, with Carrie Holland in the front seat beside him. Drew didn’t recognize the young man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, who sat in the back.

  “Madeline!” Carrie called, waving a white lace handkerchief.

  Nick pulled up to the gate and handed over the appropriate invitation. Before the servant could get around to open the door for Carrie, she let herself out. With a squeal she ran to Madeline, and the two girls embraced.

  “Oh, it’s good to be back in England,” Carrie said. “You’ve got to tell me everything about your honeymoon. Paris and Berlin and Venice, too. How utterly romantic!”

  “You’ll have to see my album,” Madeline told her. “We have so many lovely pictures, don’t we, Drew?”

  “Now, now, none of that,” Drew pretended to scold. “You know there were no photographs during the Regency. You two will have to talk about something else.”

  Madeline wrinkled her nose at him. “Well, Paris and Berlin and Venice were there, at any rate. We can talk about them.”

  “Certainly, just no photographs. Though I would have to say Miss Holland is certainly a picture in her own right.”

  Carrie laughed and blushed just the slightest bit. “And you’re still a flatterer.”

  Nick smoothed down his tousled sandy hair, scrambled in the front seat for his tall hat and buff gloves, then came up beside her, taking her arm. “The truth is never flattery.”

  She was dressed in white muslin, just as Madeline was, but instead of a Spencer jacket and straw hat, she had on a moss-colored pelisse coat and a scoop-shaped capote hat trimmed with crocheted lace. One strawberry-blond curl fell artlessly down the side of her neck. Judging from Nick’s rather smitten expression, the effect was not lost on him.

  Madeline gave Drew a discreet elbow in the ribs, and with a cough he wiped the knowing grin from his face.

  “It’s lovely to see you again.” He bowed over Carrie’s hand, just brushing it with his lips in fine Regency style. “And who have you brought along?”

  “This is my brother, Billy.” She waved the boy over. “Daddy’s got some important business matters to see to and couldn’t get away. He wouldn’t let me come alone, so we thought Billy would do just as well. I hope it won’t be any trouble.”

  She gave Drew an appealing smile, and he shook his head. “Not in the least, I’m sure. Our hosts are expecting a number of guests this week. I daresay, in a house this size, one more will be no problem. Billy, good to meet you.”

  The boy was considerably taller than his diminutive older sister and had hair that was rather chestnut in color and eyes the same. All in all, he seemed rather typically American, sturdy and capable looking and, even though it wasn’t too obvious just now, of a naturally cheerful disposition. He looked almost swallowed up in his frothy cravat and too-large green tailcoat with brass buttons, but he was clearly doing his best to carry off the look with dignity.

  Drew held out his hand, and the boy shook it, frowning slightly.

  “It’s William,” he said, his South Carolina drawl very like Carrie’s. “My sister’d have you all think I was some hick from the backwoods.”

  “William,” Drew amended. “Will?”

  The boy finally cracked a smile. “Yeah. Will would do.”

  “Will it is.” Drew gave him a friendly swat on the shoulder. “Best come along now. Nick, old man, you’ll have to leave the Daimler here. I’m told nothing newer than 1833, though preferably not later than 1820, is allowed past the gates until the week is up, and no exceptions. Ladies, our carriage awaits.”

  They all piled into the barouche and piled out again at the door of Winteroak House. Mr. and Mrs. Cummins were waiting for them, she in a lace mobcap and shawl, and he in buskins and an amber velvet smoking jacket.

  “Ah, young Farthering!” He stepped onto the drive, his sturdy hands outstretched and his craggy face softened with a wide smile. “Come in, come in. And the lovely bride. Welcome!”

  He gave a hand to each of them and leaned down to kiss Madeline’s cheek. “You must forgive us for not being able to come to the wedding, my dear, but perhaps we can make it up to you here, eh? And who have you brought along with you? I remember that young scoundrel there. Running Farthering Place these days, I hear. Always thought you’d come to a bad end.”

  Nick grinned and shook hands with him. “Mr. Cummins. Very good to see you again, sir.” He made a slight bow to the lady of the house. “Ma’am.”

  She positively beamed at them all. “Dear Drew and Nick. Whatever has happened to my young lads? Oh, it’s been far too long.”

  “This is Miss Carrie Holland, Mrs. Farthering’s friend from the States, and her brother, Will,” Drew said. “Carrie and Will, our hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Cummins.” He, too, bowed to the lady of the house and then kissed her cheek. “Very good of you to have us all, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Cummins looked at him fondly. “Do come in. All of you. Some of the guests have begun to arrive already. Beddows will show you all to your rooms. Your valet and Mrs. Farthering’s maid came with your things about an hour ago, Drew dear, and I suppose the rest of you will have to fend for yourselves.” She patted Drew’s hand. “I’ve put you next to Tibby. I thought you’d all like to be together.”

  “Mother, must you?” Talbot Cummins hurried down the steps, tall and lanky as ever, exasperated but smiling. “I suppose some pet names can never be got away from.”

  His mother put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? You must all forgive me even if my son can’t. Old habits, you know.”

  “Come along now, Margaret,” Mr. Cummins said. “Perhaps we ought to see to our other guests and let the boys catch up a bit. All of you, make yourselves at home.”

  Tal chuckled once his parents had gone inside. “She’s an old dear, even if she does forget I’ve been out of the nursery some while.”

  Drew shook his hand. “Tal, old man, good to see you. Has Bunny got here yet?”

  “Come and gone,” Tal said with a chuckle.

  “What’s that?”

  “Got his dates mixed. He showed up in full Regency kit Monday last, inexpressibles and all. When we told him the party wasn’t for another week, he said that was all right because he suspected he was meant to be in the Argentine before the weekend anyway. And so off he went.”

  Nick shook his head. “He never got to the church when Madeline and Drew were married, you know. Got lost in Basingstoke somehow.”

  “Sorry you missed the wedding, Tal,” Drew said, “but you absolutely mustn’t miss the bride.”

  “That’ll teach me to spend a year on the Continent. Last I heard, that Daphne Pomphrey-Hughes had set her cap at you. Looks as if you made a fortuitous escape.” Tal bent over Madeline’s hand. “Best wishes, Mrs. Farthering.”

  “Call me Madeline, please,” she told him, “and I promise I won’t call you Tibby.”

  “It’s a bargain, Madeline. Nick, how are you?” Tal and Nick shook hands. “And who’s this you’ve got with you?”

  “This is Miss Carrie Holland,” Nick said, “and her brother, Billy.”

  Carrie curtsied. “Thanks for having us, Mr. Cummins.”

  “Will, if you don’t mind,” Will said, glaring at Nick as he and Tal shook hands. “You’re not the only one who’s outgrown his nickname.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Carrie said, and she smiled at Tal. “He’s been Billy all his life.”

  “Well, come along,” Tal said, leading them into the grand foyer, where the tall windows spilled sunlight onto the pale marble floor. “Get settled in. Tea will be served in about half an hour. After that, I thought we of the younger set might enjoy—”
/>
  “Tal! There you are at last!”

  A sylph of a girl, pale and wispily blond, glided partway down the stairs in ballet flats and a perfectly ordinary blue frock.

  “What are you doing, Alice?” Tal called up to her, only half scolding. “You’d best not let Father catch you out of uniform, as it were. But come down and meet some people now that you’re here.” He turned back to his guests. “I suppose it’s rather silly, but you know how the old governor can be. If we’re to have a Regency house party, then we shall certainly do it up right, and no cheating.”

  The girl came to his side, her blue eyes enormous and darkly shadowed. He slipped his arm around her waist.

  “Drew and Madeline Farthering, Nick Dennison, Miss Carrie Holland and her brother, Will, darling. Everyone, this is my fiancée, Alice Henley.”

  There were hearty congratulations and best wishes all around.

  “So you see, Drew,” Tal said, fond eyes on Alice, “you’re not the only one who’s decided to take the matrimonial plunge.”

  “I can’t wish anything better for you than that you both will be as happy as Madeline and I are.”

  “Thank you,” Alice said softly, looking from Drew to Madeline and then up at Tal. “We . . . we need to talk.”

  He furrowed his brow and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  “Tal,” she pressed. “I need you to—”

  He managed a bit of a smile. “Go and get your party things on, darling. We’re all supposed to be enjoying ourselves this week. Leave the serious bits for afterwards. How’d that be?”

  She nodded, wilting a bit, a shy apology in her expression. “Sorry I’m a bit out of sorts just now. It really is lovely to meet you all.”

  Before anyone could make a proper reply, she scurried back up the stairs and was gone.

  “Don’t mind her,” Tal said. “She’s generally steady as a stone, but this past week or two she’s been rather on edge. I’m hoping the party will take her mind off things for a while.”

  “She seems quite a nice girl, Tal,” Drew said. “Everything all right?”

  Tal glanced at the rest of the group and then shrugged lazily. “You know how girls are, old man, especially the engaged ones. We’ll work it out. Now come along. I’ll show you all where you’ll be staying.”