The Sign of Death (Victorian Book Club Mystery 2)

It didn’t take much in the way of investigative skills for Amy to determine that the grinning woman standing in the doorway to William’s drawing room was his mother. Same hair color, same eye color, and similar stances, although there was nothing masculine about Lady Wethington.

She was graceful, lovely to look at, and well dressed. Amy stood and smiled at her. “Good afternoon. I assume you are Lady Wethington?”

The woman extended both of her arms and walked toward Amy as if she’d just discovered her long-lost daughter. “Yes, my dear. I am William’s mother, and so very, very pleased to meet you.”

Lady Wethington grasped Amy’s hands and squeezed. Amy looked over the woman’s shoulder, afraid she might pull her in a f

or a hug. William’s face had gone quite pale.

“Mother, if you will release my guest, I will introduce you to Lady Amy Lovell. She is the daughter of the Marquess of Winchester and sister to the Earl of Davenport.”

Lady Wethington let go of Amy, allowing her to take a deep breath, and regarded her with so much happiness that Amy suddenly felt the need to escape. As quickly as possible.

“You are just perfect. Perfect!” Lady Wethington withdrew a laced handkerchief from the cuff of her dress and patted the corners of her eyes.

William cast a look of desperation at Mrs. Pringle, who remained at the window seat but had stood upon Lady Wethington’s entrance. The housekeeper hurried forward. “Lady Wethington. How lovely to see you again! We have prepared your room. I am sure you will want to take a short rest after your journey.” She took William’s mother by her elbow and attempted to move her forward.

Lady Wethington was not allowing that. At all. She pulled her elbow from Mrs. Pringle’s grip. “So nice to see you as well, Mrs. Pringle. But I believe I will join my son and his—guest—for tea.”

They all took seats, and when Lady Wethington merely stared at the teapot, Amy sighed. Lady Wethington apparently expected her to act as hostess.

“Mrs. Pringle, can you please bring more hot water for her ladyship? I believe this one has chilled.” Thank goodness Amy had spent enough time at William’s house that the staff didn’t seem to resent requests from her.

“Wonderful,” Lady Wethington said, and beamed at Amy. She turned to William, who looked as if he had something caught in his throat. “I do hope I am not interrupting anything … personal?”

Amy had reached the point where she found the entire situation comical. She’d thought her papa was anxious to see her married off. Absolutely nothing could compare to William’s mother. There was no doubt in Amy’s mind that Lady Wethington was mentally composing the invitation list for their wedding and would soon join William’s cook to work out the wedding breakfast menu.

“No, Mother. You have not interrupted anything personal. Lady Amy and I belong to the same book club. We were merely discussing the current book.”

“Book club? How very edifying.” She beamed again at Amy. “It must be your influence, my dear.”

Amy cleared her throat. “Actually, my lady, his lordship belonged to the book club before I did.”

Undaunted by that revelation, Lady Wethington waved her hand. “Women are always good influences on men. Don’t you agree?”

Amy had no desire to be an influence on anyone. She had a hard enough time trying to keep herself out of trouble. But she just nodded and offered an innocuous murmur.

A young maid entered the room with the refilled teapot and placed it on the tray in front of the three of them. Lady Wethington smiled warmly in Amy’s direction. Apparently it was expected for her to continue to play the hostess, which had thrown her so off guard that it almost had her choking and fumbling.

Lady Wethington appeared to be a lovely woman, but Amy had the feeling that whatever William’s mother set her mind to was accomplished posthaste.

William still sat like a stone statue. A terrified stone statue. Amy wanted to hit him over the head with the teapot. She couldn’t do this all by herself; she needed rescue.

“How was your journey, my lady?” As far as social intercourse went, that was probably the dullest question she could ask. Right now, however, she was feeling far from brilliant.

Lady Wethington took a sip of the tea that Amy had just poured and fixed for her.

“The trip was not overly unpleasant. I came from London, as I’m sure my son told you, but the roads, in part, have improved. I do believe the city of Bath itself could do with improvement, however.”

“Why did you not take the railway?” William asked.

Lady Wethington waved her hand. “I don’t trust them. It is risky riding with all those strangers. A carriage is much better. However, as I stated, ’tis past the time the roads were fixed.”

Silence fell, since Amy couldn’t think of another thing to say. She could see William’s chest rising and falling, so she knew he hadn’t died from fright; he’d merely been struck dumb.

It would be far too rude for Amy to take her leave so soon, so she would just have to make the best of it. “My lord, how far into the new book have you read?” At this point, Amy was so rattled that she couldn’t even remember the book they were currently reading. Hopefully William did.

He took a deep breath, obviously realizing he would have to contribute to the conversation. “I would say about a third of the way through the book.” Since he didn’t mention the title, she had to assume he didn’t remember which book they were reading either.