Hounds of Autumn Read Online Free PDF Page B

wants. And the dressmaker is not much help, as she doesn’t know the very latest fashions. Even so, Dora will be beautiful. I just know it.” She smiled fondly at her sister-in-law.
    Dora’s cheeks colored. She would indeed be a lovely bride with her regal carriage, raven’s wing black hair and piercing dark eyes. If Chloe’s calculations were correct, she was in her mid-twenties, old enough to have serious concerns about becoming a spinster. Chloe understood that feeling all too well. She had been twenty-seven when Ambrose had asked for her hand, and she had long since given up any hope of marriage.
    “Who is the lucky gentleman?” asked Chloe.
    “His name is Patrick Baxter. He’s American,” said Dora.
    “And not a pauper by any means,” said a new voice.
    The stately older woman standing nearby was sturdily built, but not heavy. Her iron-gray hair was tastefully styled and she inclined her head politely as the men at the table rose. She set aside her elephant-headed cane and slowly lowered herself into the chair that Alexander pulled out for her. She took her time arranging her napkin before allowing her son-in-law to push in her chair. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed as she scanned the family while they ate their asparagus soup.
    “He made a handsome fortune in the Yukon,” said Dora. “He found gold up the river. He had an actual Indian guide. Can you imagine?”
    “An outdoorsman then,” said Chloe, a touch uneasy discussing a man’s financial status over a meal. “Has he traveled extensively?”
    “Oh yes,” Dora said. “To the Continent, Northern Africa, Scotland and of course he came here. And once we’re married, I’ll be able to go with him all over the world.” She looked pleased at the prospect, and Chloe couldn’t help but feel pleasure for her.
    “It’s cold,” said Mrs. Malone, jabbing a finger at her soup and motioning over a servant who took the bowl and brought a replacement a few moments later.
    “Tell her how you met,” said Beatrice, glancing uneasily at her mother who was now scowling and blowing on a steaming spoonful of soup.
    Dora explained how she and Mr. Baxter had met at a party thrown by a local family who Mr. Baxter knew through some complicated series of events. Chloe was only half-listening, but she tried to look interested.
    As the women continued on about wedding preparations, flowers and punch recipes, Chloe listened in on the men’s conversation. Ambrose was telling his nephews about his papers on English flora and fauna, and Robert was rapt with attention. She noted that Robert’s questions to Ambrose were intelligent and that he knew more than a fair amount about the local plant life.
    “I would like to send a few letters in the outgoing post,” said Ambrose. “I have colleagues in London as well as at Oxford. And I would like to write to a certain Mr. Brian Graves Senior. I heard that his son was working in your employ as a tutor.” He smiled broadly at Robert. “And I think he’s done a fine bit of work.”
    Robert’s eyes flicked down to the tabletop.
    “Mr. Graves is no longer in our employ,” said William. “His mother took ill months ago and he had to leave.”
    “I see,” said Ambrose. The soup bowls were cleared and their main meal of lamb with herbed potatoes was served.
    Beatrice turned to Chloe. “Alexander mentioned that you make little mechanical animals and things.”
    Chloe nodded.
    “And can you repair them? I have a little robin that pins to a hat, and it isn’t working anymore.”
    “I’d love to look at it. You can have it brought to Ambrose’s study and I’ll examine it. My materials won’t be here until tomorrow, though.”
    Ian leaned in toward his father and murmured something into his ear. William gave a sober nod and his mouth tightened.
    “Ian has assured me that you all have been informed of Mrs. Granger’s death.” He swallowed. “Unfortunate. Most unfortunate. I’m certain Mr. Granger will send a notice