Mr. Lowry was unmarried, had a very good position, and he was an only son. His parents lived in Cornwall. He liked dogs.
Elowen was unmarried, possessed a small dowry, and was an orphan, along with her younger sister. She came from Yorkshire but had no particular ties there now. She also liked dogs.
“It is both a duty and a privilege to care for my sister,” she said at one point (in what was one of the few statements she made that could possibly seem combative).
Lowry didn’t take it that way. “She is fortunate to have you, though I could not imagine anyone shirking that responsibility, for Miss Elisa seems to have an angelic nature.”
If it was possible for a woman to melt, Elowen would have. Poppy carefully hid a smile—not that the couple even glanced her way.
With great reluctance, Lowry set down his empty teacup. “I regret that I must excuse myself now, Miss Metcalfe. Unfortunately, I have another task to attend to today.”
“Oh?” Poppy asked, mostly to remind them that she was there.
“Customs business,” Lowry explained. “We are pursuing a gang of smugglers and they seem to be operating very near this house…I say, Miss Metcalfe! You look quite pale!”
Elowen was in fact nearly in a swoon. “Smugglers? Here at Pencliff?” she squeaked out. Poppy could tell that the other girl was terrified that she was about to be clapped in irons.
“Do not trouble yourself, my dear Miss Metcalfe,” Lowry said. “I assure you that we are on the case and will soon arrest every last person involved.”
“Oh, my.” Elowen put her hand to her chest.
Poppy stood up. “Miss Metcalfe ought to rest now. The sea air does so affect a lady’s constitution, and she is of a very delicate nature. Will you see yourself out, Mr. Lowry? I am sure you understand.”
He’d leapt to his feet at the same moment Poppy had risen, and now he bowed to them both. “I do hope my mention of the unpleasant subject was not the cause of your distress, Miss Metcalfe. How thoughtless of me.”
“Oh, Mr. Lowry,” was all that Elowen said. “On the contrary!”
Oh, dear Lord, now I think he might swoon, Poppy thought. “Good day, Mr. Lowry. We do hope you call again,” she added. It was the customary signal that future visits would be approved—not that Poppy was exactly an authority here.
Just as Poppy was returning downstairs after helping Elowen to her room, she ran into Carlos in the foyer.
“Hello,” she said, at a loss for how to greet the man who took her virginity.
“Afternoon. You look…well,” he responded, apparently also not sure how to deal with this situation.
After a horribly awkward pause, he said, “I spoke with Officer Lowry on the drive outside the house. I didn’t think Customs was going to be quite so prompt.”
“Oh, it was a personal call. I had the joy of chaperoning.”
“How did it go? Did he propose immediately, or did he wait for tea to be served?”
“Marriage was not mentioned. But it was deduced that everyone very much likes dogs.”
Carlos frowned. “Is that a code of some kind? Who doesn’t like dogs?”
“No one worth knowing. But as it happens, the visit had to end because poor Elowen practically fainted when Lowry mentioned that he was working on catching some local smugglers.”
“She’s not really cut out for the criminal life, is she?”
“That’s putting it mildly. Where were you today?”
“Truro. Also chatting with Customs, actually. Didn’t get a proposal from that one either.”
She covered a laugh. “Have you a plan?”
“Working on it.” He shot her a look. “You won’t have a role in it.”
Poppy was about to retort, then considered what happened the last few times she got involved. “That is probably for the best.”
