Hartley swallowed his oatcake. ‘We’ve been watching, like you said.’
‘Oh, that’s not…’ She had assumed they would understand to stay out of trouble what with the warnings about what had been going on. ‘Boys, I really think it’s too dangerous?—’
Hartley waved an impatient hand. ‘We were careful, Miss Fitz-Pennington.’
‘We were trackers. Like Iroquois Indians,’ said Derwent.
‘Those two officers are boring,’ said Hartley, aping a yawn.
‘They’ve been standing outside the cottage at Town End like they’re guarding the Crown Jewels,’ agreed Derwent. ‘Taking it in turns. But they never saw us.’
Perhaps she needn’t wait for word from Grasmere when she had her own carrier pigeons bringing the news to her? ‘And what of Mr Wright?’
‘Mrs Ashburner thinks he’s sinking, like a ship.’
‘She means she thinks he’s dying,’ said Hartley bluntly.
‘Yes, I understood that.’ Dora pushed that aside– there was nothing she could do to save the poor man. If Jacob was unable to help him, she certainly couldn’t. ‘Go on.’
‘That Mr Moss is a slippery fellow. He caught us watching and boxed my ear,’ said Hartley, rubbing the offended spot.
‘We did tell you he was an ally.’
‘Some ally,’ grumbled Hartley. ‘Allies don’t go boxing ears. Anyway, we said we were going to watch Mr Langhorne if he was there, but Mr Moss told us it wasn’t decent. Mr Langhorne had an assig-something?—’
‘Assignation,’ supplied Dora.
‘With Sally from the Rush Bearing.’
‘Ooo, finally some gossip!’ said Ruby, perking up. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Not as pretty as you, miss,’ said Derwent.
‘Is she well-endowed?’ Ruby made a gesture for full breasts. ‘Men like that.’
‘Ruby!’ snapped Dora. ‘Not appropriate.’
‘Lord, you are a bore sometimes, Dora.’
‘Go do something more interesting somewhere else then.’ She turned back to the boys. Ruby didn’t leave the table. ‘So you didn’t follow Mr Langhorne. That leaves…?’
‘Mr Knotte,’ said Hartley. Dora’s heart picked up its pace. ‘That’s what we came to say. He’s acting funny. He took Mr Barton’s boat out on the lake and we followed him along the shore. And guess where he went?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Windermere was miles long.
‘Chapel Holm!’
‘Chapel Holm?’
‘It’s near Birthwaite.’
She remembered Jacob telling her that a holm was an islet or peninsula. ‘Can you walk to it?’
‘No. You need a boat.’
‘And you need money to hire a boat, if you can’t steal one,’ said Derwent, looking hopefully at her.
Thankfully they were penniless– or they would’ve gone after him themselves. She shuddered at the risks they had taken so innocently thinking to help her.
