Using the washcloth, she cleaned her face and limbs of the sand that clung to her. The mud was more difficult, and she did indeed squeeze every last drop from the cloth before she felt clean enough to put on her night clothes and climb into bed.
It had been a very long day, and she dropped off to sleep almost immediately. She didn’t sleep well, however. Her dreams were filled with long, twisting subterranean passageways where she had to run from shadowy figures. She’d hit a dead end and whirl around, only to find a man reaching out for her. Poppy wanted to scream when the figure pulled her close—but how could she scream when she was being kissed so passionately? Then the kiss would break off, and the figure told her they had to run once more. She woke several times in the night, her heartbeat rapid from fear or arousal or both.
Then Miss Mist awoke from her own dreams, and curled herself on the pillow in the crook of Poppy’s shoulder and neck. She rumbled out a steady purr, a soothing sound that chased away all dreams and sent Poppy back to sleep, this time a deep and dreamless one.
Chapter 8
Dear Poppy,
I have sent this letter ahead of your visit to Cornwall in the hopes that it will arrive shortly after you do, and that you may have a little companionship through my words, if you are otherwise lonely. I know that you have other reasons for perhaps avoiding London just now, but I must say, you were wise to decamp before the worst of the heat begins. It is ever so much more pleasant here in Gloucestershire in summer, with the pond so near Lyondale. It reminds me of when we went boating near Wildwood Hall so many years ago. You stood up in the bow and declared yourself to be the pirate princess Judith and you made us all your faithful lady crew. Of all the children’s stories we reenacted, that may have been my favorite.
Do pet Miss Mist for me, and tell her she is darling and perfect. How are the Cornish cats? Has she conquered all the local specimens yet? I will assume so until you write to me with the answer.
I hope you will not be bored, Poppy! Cornwall seems such a sleepy land, with no excitement to be had compared to the city. If you need anything to divert you, you must let me know.
Your constant friend,
Daisy
When the sun finally rose, filling the room with peachy, golden light, Poppy woke in a more cheerful mood. Her dreams had faded to a tangle of half-remembered images. Today was a new day, and she had a lot to do. Breakfast, then posting the letter, then arranging a trip into town. And perhaps a few well-placed questions about the local smuggling operations…
Just then, she noticed that a letter had been slipped under the door by the maid, so it had probably arrived in the first post. Poppy retrieved it and darted back to the warm bed to read it. On finishing it, she laughed out loud. So Daisy was worried that she’d be bored and lonely? She had two new friends in Elowen and Elisa. She had a mystery to solve. And she had a vexing gentleman to deal with. Miss Mist would have to fend for herself!
Armed with the support of her distant but true friendships, Poppy slid out of bed for real this time—moving carefully so she didn’t disturb Miss Mist, who had curled up in the exact center on top of the blankets, and was now lightly snoring as she doubtless dreamed of murder.
Poppy was determined to face the day. She had momentarily forgotten the acute danger of the previous evening, instead reflecting on the excitement. She and Carlos saw an actual smuggling run! Smuggling might be rampant, but to import such a massive quantity of a substance like opium hinted at a much larger scheme.
She dressed quickly, and put her ruined slippers and dress next to the door, where the maid would find them and know that they had to go to the rag bin.
Then she went to the breakfast room. She had never been shy about breakfast, a meal which barely existed for many ladies. Poppy drank some strong Assam tea and shamelessly sampled each of the half-dozen jams on as many little slices of bread.
As she was finishing the last one, Elowen came in. She looked as if she were about to bolt out again, but Poppy called out, “Good morning! The tea in the silver pot is particularly good.”
Elowen nodded shyly. She poured a cup at the sideboard and sat across from Poppy.
Remembering something from last night, Poppy leaned forward. She said, “I wanted to apologize for what Mrs. Ainsworth said after dinner in the drawing room. It was quite rude to gossip about you.”
Elowen’s eyes dropped. “I heard no gossip.”
“Yes, you did.” Poppy remembered the flash of Elowen’s skirt as she ran out of the way.
“It was not gossip,” Elowen said then, “because it’s true. I have no suitors, and it’s no secret why many stay away.”
“I refuse to believe that, and anyway she had no place to say it.”
“Regardless, she was correct.”
Poppy was struck by the sorrow in Elowen’s tone. “I’m sorry to have brought it up again.”
“It isn’t important,” Elowen said. “All that matters is that Elisa has the family she needs.”
Just then, Mrs. Towers entered, joined by Blanche a moment later. Then Mr. Hobbson came in, and the conversation turned very general and safe. After breakfasting, Poppy asked Mrs. Towers about the likelihood of a carriage into town.
“I find myself in need of another pair of slippers,” she said, without mentioning why.
“There’s an excellent cobbler in town,” Blanche said. “I intend to do some shopping myself today.”
“Oh, an excursion into Treversey is always fun,” Mrs. Towers replied. “In fact, Mrs. Hobbson wants to go as well.”
