Mr. Dalby shot to his feet, chair legs scraping the floor.
With a quick glance at Katherine, Mr. Palling raised a placating hand. “Sorry. Didn’t come here to quarrel. Came here to invite you to a party in two days’ time. At the mill barn. All the workers and their spouses are invited. Several others too.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Albert Palling opened his mouth and, with another glance at Katherine, closed it again. “To show my appreciation to everyone.”
Katherine smiled. “How very generous of you.”
Mr. Palling nodded to Anne. “I am pleased to see you again, Miss Anne. Joe Webb can’t stop singing your praises.”
“Your life is now complete, Miss Loveday,” Mr. Dalby said, “now you’ve earned a weaver’s praise.”
Mr. Dalby’s smug sarcasm chafed, yet Anne strived to keep her tone civil. “It was a privilege to come to Mr. Webb’said. He has a devoted wife and four children who depend on him.”
It was Mr. Dalby’s turn to raise a placating palm. “Well then, forgive me, Saint Anne.”
The mill owner frowned at him before looking again to the others. “I have just come from Dr. Finch’s. He’s agreed to come. I hope you shall as well, Miss Anne. And Miss Fitzjohn and Colonel Paine, although I realize it might be difficult to ... get away.”
For a moment Katherine held the man’s gaze, then she looked down, murmuring, “True.”
Anne said, “I sincerely appreciate the invitation, but as I am here to care for Lady Celia, I’m afraid I cannot.”
“Oh, do go and enjoy yourself, Anne,” Jasper said. “Certainly between us we can keep an eye on the old dear for a few hours. Call in Dr. Marsland, if need be.”
The other two did not second this notion, but neither did they protest.
Mr. Palling nodded. “Good. Then we shall look forward to seeing you there. And you, Miss Fitzjohn, if you are able.”
Katherine smiled vaguely but made no reply.
Once again, Mr. Palling speared Mr. Dalby with a sharp look. “And you really should put in an appearance.”
Mr. Dalby sighed. “Very well. If I have no other pressing obligations.”
After the visitor had taken his leave, Buxton returned and announced that dinner was served. The men made their way into the adjacent dining room, but Katherine lingered, walking with Anne to the bottom of the stairs.
She said, “How fortunate you are, Miss Loveday, not to be restricted by the dictates of society ... or one’s mother. You are at liberty to attend the party.”
“Are you not? When so much of Painswick’s wealth hascome from its cloth mills? And your own cousin married into a clothier’s family?”
“Sadly no. Mamma would not approve. But I would go. If I could.”
Anne hesitated. “He admires you, you know. Mr. Palling.”
An odd bleakness crossed Katherine’s face. “Then I fear he shall not be the first to be disappointed.”
A few hours later, Anne lay almost asleep on the narrow bed in Sir Herbert’s former dressing room. A sound startled her, and her eyes shot wide open—she was fully awake once more.
She listened and heard another sound. Lady Celia’s door creaking open. A brief silence followed, and then soft footsteps padded into the room.
Anne rose from the low bed as quietly as she could. As usual, she’d left her door ajar to hear Lady Celia, and through the crack she peered into the darkness. A figure in white walked in stealth across the room. Anne’s heart rate accelerated. Who was it?
She opened the door wider to follow the progress of the figure—a feminine figure—creeping about in the dark. When the female neared the glow of the fire, Anne recognized Miss Fitzjohn in a white dressing gown. Why was she sneaking around?
Anne watched as Katherine pulled down the silver mantel box, lifted the lid, and studied the contents by firelight. Then she moved to the desk and opened the top drawer. What was she looking for? The blue vase? Or something else?
Anne hesitated to intrude. This was the woman’s daughter after all.
