another
appointment this morning. Inspector Spellar from Scotland Yard has asked us to consult for
him.”
“I understand. I will see you out.”
They left the bedroom and started down the staircase to the front hall of the big house.
“Again, allow me to express my gratitude, Mrs. Jones,” Adelaide said.
“Nonsense. Delighted to be of some assistance,” Lucinda said. “But I must admit I am surprised
that you felt comfortable sending for me. My reputation in the press leads most people to believe
that I am given to the pastime of poisoning people. How did you learn of my herbal skills?”
“I have had some experience of the press, Mrs. Jones. I am well aware of what it can do to a
reputation. As for how I learned of your talent for concocting therapeutic remedies, I owe the
knowledge to my housekeeper.”
“And who might she be?”
“Her name is Mrs. Trevelyan. She is acquainted with your housekeeper.”
“Mrs. Shute?”
“I believe that is her name, yes. The two have known each other since they started out in service
together many years ago. Their world is a small one. Gossip flows through it just as freely as it
does through the other social circles. Mrs. Trevelyan assured me that her friend would never
have gone to work for an employer who was in the habit of poisoning the odd gentleman or
two.”
Lucinda chuckled. “In other words my housekeeper provided me with an excellent character
reference. I must remember to thank her for that.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jones. And congratulations on your recent marriage.”
“Thank you.” Lucinda appeared mildly surprised. “You are, I gather, a member of the Arcane
community?”
“My parents were Arcane but they died a long time ago. I spent the past several years in America
and have had no contact with the Society. Growing up I was well aware of the Jones family,
however. When the announcement of your wedding to Mr. Caleb Jones appeared in the papers I
recognized the name and made the connection. That was when Mrs. Trevelyan informed me that
her old friend was in your employ.”
“If you do not have any close connections within the Society, you may not be aware that Mr.
Jones and I have recently founded a psychical investigation agency. Let me give you a card.”
Lucinda reached into a hidden pocket sewn into the folds of her elegant skirts and pulled out a
crisp pasteboard.
Adelaide took it from her and glanced at the name of the firm printed in very fine black script.
“JoNes aNd JoNes,” she read.
“Should you ever feel the need of our services, I trust you will send word to our office. Jones and
Jones prides itself on discretion.”
“That is very good to know, Mrs. Jones.”
Adelaide slipped the card into the pocket of the starched white apron that covered her from throat
to ankle. Beneath the apron was a fresh, plain day dress. She had sent Jed to fetch Mrs.
Trevelyan shortly after arriving at the Abbey. Demonstrating her considerable professional
competence, the housekeeper had quickly packed a trunk that contained fresh clothes and a
variety of personal toiletries. She had also put in a set of silk sheets and one of Adelaide’s silk
nightgowns.
Mrs. Trevelyan had never asked any questions about the silk sheets. She no doubt assumed that
Adelaide’s rule of sleeping only in silk was simply an eccentricity. The reality was that it was a
necessity as far as Adelaide was concerned. The disturbing energy of other people’s dreams and
nightmares soaked into bedding and mattresses over the years and made sleep virtually
impossible for someone with her unusual talent. She had discovered long ago that silk acted as a
barrier to the unpleasant residue of old dreamlight.
Having seen to her employer’s immediate needs, Mrs. Trevelyan had promptly sailed into the
kitchen and taken charge of the household. She reported to Adelaide that the large man named
Delbert had put up
appointment this morning. Inspector Spellar from Scotland Yard has asked us to consult for
him.”
“I understand. I will see you out.”
They left the bedroom and started down the staircase to the front hall of the big house.
“Again, allow me to express my gratitude, Mrs. Jones,” Adelaide said.
“Nonsense. Delighted to be of some assistance,” Lucinda said. “But I must admit I am surprised
that you felt comfortable sending for me. My reputation in the press leads most people to believe
that I am given to the pastime of poisoning people. How did you learn of my herbal skills?”
“I have had some experience of the press, Mrs. Jones. I am well aware of what it can do to a
reputation. As for how I learned of your talent for concocting therapeutic remedies, I owe the
knowledge to my housekeeper.”
“And who might she be?”
“Her name is Mrs. Trevelyan. She is acquainted with your housekeeper.”
“Mrs. Shute?”
“I believe that is her name, yes. The two have known each other since they started out in service
together many years ago. Their world is a small one. Gossip flows through it just as freely as it
does through the other social circles. Mrs. Trevelyan assured me that her friend would never
have gone to work for an employer who was in the habit of poisoning the odd gentleman or
two.”
Lucinda chuckled. “In other words my housekeeper provided me with an excellent character
reference. I must remember to thank her for that.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jones. And congratulations on your recent marriage.”
“Thank you.” Lucinda appeared mildly surprised. “You are, I gather, a member of the Arcane
community?”
“My parents were Arcane but they died a long time ago. I spent the past several years in America
and have had no contact with the Society. Growing up I was well aware of the Jones family,
however. When the announcement of your wedding to Mr. Caleb Jones appeared in the papers I
recognized the name and made the connection. That was when Mrs. Trevelyan informed me that
her old friend was in your employ.”
“If you do not have any close connections within the Society, you may not be aware that Mr.
Jones and I have recently founded a psychical investigation agency. Let me give you a card.”
Lucinda reached into a hidden pocket sewn into the folds of her elegant skirts and pulled out a
crisp pasteboard.
Adelaide took it from her and glanced at the name of the firm printed in very fine black script.
“JoNes aNd JoNes,” she read.
“Should you ever feel the need of our services, I trust you will send word to our office. Jones and
Jones prides itself on discretion.”
“That is very good to know, Mrs. Jones.”
Adelaide slipped the card into the pocket of the starched white apron that covered her from throat
to ankle. Beneath the apron was a fresh, plain day dress. She had sent Jed to fetch Mrs.
Trevelyan shortly after arriving at the Abbey. Demonstrating her considerable professional
competence, the housekeeper had quickly packed a trunk that contained fresh clothes and a
variety of personal toiletries. She had also put in a set of silk sheets and one of Adelaide’s silk
nightgowns.
Mrs. Trevelyan had never asked any questions about the silk sheets. She no doubt assumed that
Adelaide’s rule of sleeping only in silk was simply an eccentricity. The reality was that it was a
necessity as far as Adelaide was concerned. The disturbing energy of other people’s dreams and
nightmares soaked into bedding and mattresses over the years and made sleep virtually
impossible for someone with her unusual talent. She had discovered long ago that silk acted as a
barrier to the unpleasant residue of old dreamlight.
Having seen to her employer’s immediate needs, Mrs. Trevelyan had promptly sailed into the
kitchen and taken charge of the household. She reported to Adelaide that the large man named
Delbert had put up
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