Regency Masquerade

Chapter Twenty Two

Mrs Pearson dressed in her oldest clothes to brave the attic, she suspected, rightly as it turned out, that it had not been dusted in some time. Tom accompanied her and showed her which few pieces of furniture stored there had belonged to Lady Julia. There was a beautiful, polished writing table with patterns of mother of pearl inlaid on the drawers, a delicate white painted dressing table with gilt trim and, under a dust cloth, was a chaise longue made of rosewood with cream satin cushions.

"If there are any papers here they will be in the desk or the dressing table," mused Mrs Pearson, opening the two larger drawers in the dressing table as she spoke. They were empty however, the brushes and cosmetics obviously removed before the piece was brought to Lady Murray's house. The small drawers mounted on each side of the dressing table were also empty.

She turned to the writing desk and found that several of the drawers were locked. This looked promising and she hunted eagerly until she found the small key. Triumphantly she drew forth the small bundle of letters tied with pink ribbon, only to find after a brief glance that they were love letters from Sir Thomas. Hastily she returned them, a slight blush on her cheeks, who would have thought Sir Thomas was so romantic?

Eventually she found a small puzzle box at the back of one of the drawers. How did it open? She tried pushing several sections of wood without success and put it aside to take down to Lady Anna. There were no other papers in the desk. She picked up the puzzle box and made her way carefully down stairs, followed by Tom, thankful that he hadn't been asked to carry down any of the furniture.

Her employer was seated in the morning salon, waiting for her return. "Well?"

"Lady Anna? Do you remember how to open the puzzle box? I found it in Lady Julia's writing desk and I think it is the same one she had as a child." Mrs Pearson put it carefully into Lady Anna's outstretched hands.

"Let me see," she murmured, her fingers sliding over the wood. It was shaped like a small row of books in a bookshelf. "I think I have it." The bottom shelf slid to the left, allowing the books, which were in one piece to rotate clockwise, in turn exposing a small keyhole. "Do we have the key?" she asked.

"I do not think so," answered Mrs Pearson regretfully. "It certainly was not in the desk. What shall we do?"

"Tom? Do you think you can open it with a knife?" asked Lady Murray.

"I can try, my lady," said Tom doubtfully. "I'll be back in a minute." He returned shortly carrying a small kitchen knife, "Will you hand it to me, my lady?" He fiddled with the point of the blade for a few minutes, "I think I'll have to break the lock, my lady."

She nodded and in a few seconds the box was open. Tom gave it to Mrs Pearson and she carefully withdrew the tightly folded papers from inside. "It looks like two letters, Lady Anna. Shall I read them?" With her employer directly in front of her she felt obliged to ask permission, even as her fingers were already unfolding the thin paper.

"Go ahead."

Mrs Pearson gave a gasp as her eyes flew ahead to the signature at the bottom. "It is from Miss Amanda, my lady!"

Lady Murray pursed her lips tightly, "You may leave us Tom." She would have given anything to have been able to dismiss her companion as well and read the letters alone but she needed her eyes. Although she could distinguish between light and dark, she certainly could not see enough to read.

"My dearest Julia,

I hope this finds you well. My beautiful baby has arrived safely. She takes after Henry, she has his hair but my eyes. We have christened her Frances Julia Metcalf, although we are not using that name here in France of course! My health is not yet what it should be, but the doctor says I should regain my strength if I do not do too much. Easy for him to say! I have written to Mother but I do not know if she will even open my letter, you know how bitterly we parted and she has not forgiven me. I hope the birth of her granddaughter may change her heart. My dearest sister I miss you so much and although I am homesick for England, my baby gives me great joy. Henry sends his warmest regards,