Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,6

his wife had suddenly died and he had become a recluse. His descendants had fared little better, and rumors of a family curse began to circulate widely. Soon no one wanted to go near the great house or have anything to do with the Thornes.

Jeffrey did not believe in curses, but he knew from tragic personal experience that Dredthorne Hall seemed to attract evil as surely as a tavern drew drunkards.

At present the house was owned by a property concern that owned many estates north of London, which had been leasing it for hunting parties and private events. The rates, considered cheap by city standards, often lured bachelors to bring their friends to Dredthorne for hunting and shooting. Arthur Pickering’s choice to hold a costume ball there should not have seemed odd, but it did.

“Mr. Pickering seems a very mannerly gentleman,” Deidre said, in the way she had when Jeffrey had gone silent for too long. “I quite liked making his acquaintance when he came to church. I am sure he would not mind if we refused his invitation. A ball held on All Hallows’ Eve is not in keeping with the church’s views.”

He took a nibble from a ginger nut. “You believe we should refuse him.”

“I believe I should trust your judgment, as ever I do.” She put down the biscuit. “There will be no reminders of what your sister endured there. It was so long ago that everyone but you and I have forgotten.”

Jeffrey would never forget learning that his sister Lucetta had been shot by a madman in Dredthorne Hall’s front foyer, or that she had come close to bleeding to death and dying there. He hated the reminder of how hopeless and helpless he had felt as he had waited to learn from the doctor if she would survive. He recalled every day she had spent with him and Deidre at the parsonage, slowly recovering from the savage wound. The ending to that story could only be called joyful, but he would never feel the same about the ordeal.

Many of his young parishioners would go to the ball. Someone had to look out for them.

“I think we must attend,” he told his wife. “We need not stay very long, but I wish to make an appearance.”

Deidre didn’t look happy, but she nodded and held out a ginger nut for him. “We will want costumes to wear, unless you wanted to play the vicar and his wife.”

He thought for a moment. “Perhaps we might employ some metaphor in that.”

Chapter 3

The next day Jennet made sure her mother was sleeping before she set out for the village from Reed Park. Dr. Mallory had stopped in and prescribed rest and an herbal soother for Margaret, and checked with the housekeeper to insure they had some laudanum on hand if her panic escalated.

“I should think she will recover in a day or so, Miss Reed,” the doctor advised her before leaving to attend his next patient. “Until she does, keep her indoors and well-wrapped against chill, and avoid provoking excitement.”

Debny promised to sit with Margaret while Jennet attended to her errands, which included a stop at the haberdasher’s shop. She hoped to find embroidery threads to match the old gown Catherine had lent her, but as soon as she entered the establishment she saw a clutch of young ladies giggling over the fine laces.

The proprietor greeted her with a ready smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Reed. May I be of service?”

“I think I will browse, sir,” she told him, and went over to the threads cabinet, where she pulled out the drawer for shades of blue. She had clipped a tiny piece of the gown’s silk from an inner seam, and took it from her reticule to compare it to the available stock.

“I hear he is very tall, and dark, and has the broadest shoulders,” one of the girls at the laces counter said, cooing the words. “Perhaps he will dress as Wellington, and carry a sword.”

“Surely not, for I have seen the Iron Duke, and he is nothing at all,” another claimed. “He is very short and slight, and has a hooked nose.” She drew an outline of the latter over her own.

“I think he should dress as Mr. Brummel, for I daresay he is just as elegant, and a hundred times as rich,” a third girl put in, making all of them giggle at her shocking remark. “And I will dress as the Queen of France, so he will