The Curiosity Keeper (26 page)

Camille rubbed her arms, growing alarmed. She had not heard the news that such a sickness had befallen the school. But she had witnessed firsthand what havoc an illness like scarlet fever could induce.

Miss Brathay continued. “Scarlet fever is of course contagious and very dangerous, but once it has been contracted, it is unlikely that a person will suffer the symptoms twice. You were not all present at our brief meeting, so I wanted to check with you all again. Therefore I must ask, have any of you had the illness before? We need someone to care for the child and do not want to risk spreading the illness.”

Camille looked around at the other teachers. A short, round woman with dark hair and eyes slipped her hand in the air.

Camille had contracted the fever when she was young, when an epidemic swept through the countryside surrounding her grandfather’s estate. She raised her hand as well.

“Ah, Miss Smith, Miss Iverness. I hope you do not mind if we call upon you to assist if necessary during this time. I will speak to Mr. Gilchrist about the best way to handle this situation.”

Camille stood in front of the room filled with students.

Fifteen sets of eyes watched her.

Silently.

Intently.

Camille felt faint. She actually felt faint.

How many times had she faced much more intimidating people—brawny, rough, angry men? And she could handle them without batting an eye. But these young women, with their sweet faces and quiet mannerisms, terrified her.

She swallowed. She’d been given a fairly easy task. All she needed to do on her first day was introduce herself to the older girls and explain her approach to keeping books. It was simple. It was a topic she knew like the back of her hand. And yet, as the eyes bore into her, her mind went blank.

This was her moment to prove herself. Her moment to prove her worth.

Her work had always come so easily to her before. Her tasks in the shop were second nature. She had a knack for dealing with the rough customers tactfully. She excelled at bookkeeping and tracking and acquiring merchandise.

But feelings of inadequacy bubbled within her, rising from deep within and choking her confidence. She had thought this would be easy, that she would be able to slip seamlessly from the
identity of shopkeeper to that of schoolteacher. But as the young eyes assessed her, she faltered.

She glanced up at Molly, who normally taught this group of young ladies at this time of day and was now sitting in the back of the room. Molly nodded toward Camille eagerly.

Somehow Camille managed to make it through her introduction and share a bit about her experience, but as the children left the schoolroom, she blew out her air. This was not going to be as easy as she had expected.

After the morning classes and midday meal had concluded, the older students settled in for time for quiet study. As was the custom, the teachers were available to assist as needed. As Camille walked around the room supervising, a fair-haired student raised her hand in the air. Summoning her courage, Camille walked over to the girl. It would be the first time she helped a student, one on one. She breathed a deep breath.

“And what is your name?” Camille asked.

“Abigail Barnes, Miss Iverness.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Barnes. Now, what can I help you with?”

The young teenager showed her an arithmetic problem, and Camille breathed a sigh of relief. Arithmetic she could handle. But as she looked at the girl’s slate, she could not help but notice the girl’s hand was blotchy. It almost seemed to be trembling. Watching the girl’s face as she worked her sums, Camille assessed the girl’s complexion. It was waxy and pale, and her eyes were pink around the rims.

“Forgive me for asking, Miss Barnes, but do you feel all right?”

The girl turned to look at her fully for the first time. It was then that Camille could see the full extent of Abigail’s watery eyes.

“I am well, Miss.”

“But I do not think you are—look, your hand is trembling.” Camille straightened. “I think you should come with me. Let’s go find Miss McKinney. I would feel much better if someone looked at your symptoms. And if it is nothing, then the fault for disrupting your day will be mine.”

Abigail stood and followed Camille to Miss McKinney. But as they went through the motions, a queer sensation pricked Camille, for she had seen those signs before. The blotchy, dotted skin. The raspy voice and waxy, feverish complexion.

Scarlet fever.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

T
he next few days passed in quick succession for Jonathan.

He had gone about his daily business, but his thoughts were never far from Fellsworth School. For not only had little Jane continued to worsen and another young lady, Abigail Barnes, had succumbed to scarlet fever, but Miss Iverness was there.

On Friday in the early afternoon, as was his custom, he went to Kettering Hall for dinner. Normally he took his dinners in his cottage alone. But Friday nights he would venture to Kettering, if for no other reason than to spend time with Penelope. Besides their father, she was the only family he had left.

But apprehension haunted him on his walk to his boyhood home. He dreaded tonight’s interaction with his father for one reason: the Bevoy.

They were no closer to finding it. And all were painfully aware of the truth. Every day that passed without the ruby increased the likelihood that they would never see it again. He and Darbin had parted on cold terms, and he had not heard from Darbin since the man had left the apothecary shop a few days prior. Jonathan had been optimistic at first, but now his hopes that they would actually recover the gem had dwindled.

His father expected him to be in London, as if that were the mystical answer to their problem. Jonathan did not share his opinion.

Reaching the hall, Jonathan hurried up the main steps, eager to be out of the gathering weather. The rain had not started, yet the warnings were all around. Thunder growled like a beast ready to pounce from its cage. Lightning simmered in the distance. Jonathan hurried inside as soon as Abbott swung the door open.

He found his father in the parlor by the fire, a pipe clenched in his teeth. This he had expected. But finding Henry Darbin in the room as well took him quite by surprise.

The men looked up as Jonathan let himself into the parlor. It was Darbin who spoke first, a crooked grin on his face. “Ah, the prodigal son returns.” The words were spoken in jest, but they plucked at his already tightened nerves.

“Darbin, what brings you to Kettering Hall? I thought you were to return to London.”

Darbin nodded toward the elder Gilchrist. “Your father is a very persuasive man. I have not yet returned to London. Your father convinced me to stay on at Kettering Hall for a few more days.”

Jonathan cast a glance at his father, who was intently stuffing his pipe, all but ignoring the conversation between the two men. “Don’t you have business to see to in London?”

Darbin cocked his head to the side. “Your father and I believe I can be of more use here.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes on the scene, unsure what to make of it. He took his seat by the fire, just as he did every Friday. It was really too warm for such a fire. The walk over had been muggy at best, and the fire made things worse.

But his father seemed oblivious. “The more the merrier, isn’t that what they say? Dowden sent word that he will be joining
us as well, which should please your sister. It’s about time he showed himself around here again.” He puffed his pipe, sending swirls of tobacco smoke into the air, pausing only when coughs racked his body.

Ian Gilchrist had never been an overly healthy man. A raucous lifestyle had aged him beyond his years. As of late his gout had troubled him increasingly, and his breathing seemed compromised as well. Physician after physician had come by, but none had been able to cure him.

Though Jonathan was not a physician, he was an experienced apothecary, working day to day with people afflicted with every manner of ailments. If asked, he thought he could help. But he knew his father. Being an apothecary was a shame to his father, and a disgraceful occupation for the heir of Kettering Hall. Accepting assistance from Jonathan would validate the occupation. Ian Gilchrist would never do that.

“I wish you would let me give you something for that cough,” Jonathan ventured anyway.

His father’s reply was gruff. “Don’t need it.”

But as yet another round of hacking assaulted his father, Jonathan sighed and leaned back against the chair.

Darbin’s voice rose above the crackling fire. “I hear Miss Iverness is settled at Fellsworth School.”

Jonathan noted it had not taken long for Darbin to bring her into the conversation. “She is.”

“As good a place for her as any,” reasoned Darbin. “Away from her father and where we can keep an eye on her.”

Jonathan clenched his teeth. He was not a man prone to quick anger, but Darbin had a way of irritating him. Jonathan knew why. The man reminded him so much of Thomas that it
had almost became impossible for Jonathan to separate the two. He knew it was unfair to project feelings for one person onto another, but they were so alike in their mannerisms and their ways of thinking.

Darbin fussed with his cravat. “She will be joining us for dinner, you know.”

Jonathan jerked his head up. Darbin spoke as if he had some authority at Kettering Hall. It was well known that the staff at the school had very limited time off—a total of two Sunday afternoons a month. He kept his temper in check, his voice, even. “No, I did not know. It is Friday. I am surprised the school could spare her.”

“Penelope paid the school a visit and spoke with Mr. Langsby directly,” his father said. “You know your sister and how persuasive she can be. What she wants, she gets. Is that not right?”

“Did I hear my name?” His sister sauntered into the room.

“Uncanny,” Jonathan breathed. “We speak of you and you appear. Penelope, Father was just remarking that you have the incredible ability to get what you want.”

Penelope looked to her father innocently. “What is he talking about?”

“We just informed him that Miss Iverness is joining us for dinner,” he recounted. “He was surprised the school could spare her.”

Penelope flounced onto the sofa opposite Jonathan. She rolled her eyes. “Really, Jonathan. Do not look so sour.”

“I do not think you should interfere. She is settling into a new life. Let her be about her business in peace.”

Penelope’s lips formed that familiar pout. “Perhaps I am interfering, Jonathan, but I want to get this ruby back. And you
are sitting there like a dunce, doing nothing. You speak of her new life. But what about my new life? You may not mind being poor and living in the village, but I do. The ruby is of utmost importance to me.”

Jonathan shook his head in disgust. He suspected a trap. Miss Iverness was coming to dinner, undoubtedly expecting companionship, and these three would use that expectation in an attempt to extract information from her.

Jonathan wanted to know the truth as well. Nothing would be more satisfying after all this time than to have the right answers. But this was not the way.

“She knows nothing,” Jonathan stated. “You should leave her alone, Darbin, and do what we have hired you to do.”

Penelope jumped to Darbin’s defense. “Is it truly possible for someone as clever as you to be deceived by a pretty face? Mr. Darbin is
trying
to do his job. You are not going to be of any assistance, so you might as well step down and let him do his work.”

Jonathan wanted to wash his hands of this group—to leave Kettering Hall once and for all and leave the entire mess behind him. But one thing kept him tied to his chair. He would not leave Miss Iverness to face them alone.

But Penelope was not finished. “I do hope that you are not allowing any personal feelings to cloud your judgment.”

Jonathan lifted his eyebrows. “Personal feelings?”

“I have seen the way you look at her,” she shot back. “All glassy-eyed like a schoolboy. Miss Iverness is quite a beauty, I’ll allow. And what better way to hide a secret than to flirt with the very man she is trying to keep it from. I think you are allowing an infatuation to sway your common sense.”

Jonathan could feel his face reddening, his self-control slipping through his fingers. He had expected this sort of behavior from Darbin and even his father, but not from Penelope. He had thought her more compassionate than to waylay a poor girl who had done nothing wrong. Her panic over losing the dowry must be great indeed.

Penelope continued, her words terse. “Since you seem so lily-livered about this, I will take it in hand myself. You may be fine and well with losing everything, but Father has worked too hard to see it all go downhill. If you will not fight for the Bevoy, then I will. And Mr. Darbin will help me.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

C
amille had been thrilled to receive an invitation for dinner at Kettering Hall.

Of course, the invitation had raised eyebrows, for Miss Penelope Gilchrist never entered the school, and her personal visit to Mr. Langsby to request Camille’s presence had set tongues wagging. And it seemed odd that Mr. Langsby never asked Camille if she would accept the invitation, but told her she was to attend. Clearly the relationship between the school and the Gilchrist family was deep-seated and complicated, if just a visit from the daughter could excuse one of the teachers from her nightly duties.