“Is there something wrong with the way I am?”
“Nothing at all,” I assured him. “Everything about you is exactly as it should be.”
There were no ink stains on his sleeves, and he looked perfectly like a young gentleman at his leisure in the countryside, in plus fours and a belted sports coat and a perfectly knotted tie.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to tell you about Grimsby’s notes last night,” I added. “I came to your room to show them to you, but then Tom Gardiner was still there, and I couldn’t not hand them over when he realized I had them…”
“Of course not, Pippa.” Christopher poured water from the jug into the basin and dipped his hands in. “I would have liked to have seen what you found, but I agree. With the situation you walked in on, there was nothing else you could do.”
“What kind of situation was it?”
We hadn’t had a chance to confer at all, all morning long. Aunt Roz and Aunt Charlotte and Crispin, or some combination of the three of them, had been dogging our steps every minute of today so far.
Until now, but at this point we hadn’t the time to cover it all before the meal gong.
“Tom and I were standing at the top of the stairs,” Christopher said, drying his hands on the towel that hung next to the basin, “when Francis and Crispin started up, looking like either one of them could tip over backwards and fall to his death at any moment. Crispin was drunk as a lord, and Francis…” He hesitated.
“Francis had indulged in something that wasn’t alcohol,” I agreed. “Did you see his eyes? His pupils were no bigger than pinpricks.”
Christopher nodded. “Tom was supposed to be on his way down, and I was going to my room, but he came with me to help me get them both to their doors. Crispin had drunk enough that he was unsteady on his feet, and I guess Tom recognizes illegal intoxication when he sees it, because he was trying to get Francis to talk to him about what was going on.”
“At least Crispin only had to make it up the stairs and down the hall to find his bed,” I said. “Grimsby’s notes included a story about him wrapping a Ballot 2 LTS—that must have been the car before the Hispano-Suiza?”
I’ve never had more than a passing interest in motorcars. They’re fine as transportation, but I don’t notice them otherwise. Christopher nodded.
“—around a light pole in the West End.”
“Good Lord.” He looked at me, wide-eyed. “How did I miss hearing about that?”
“He walked away in one piece and with barely any injuries. The consequence of being so drunk his body was limp upon impact, I assume.” I shrugged. “The staff at Sutherland House didn’t hold back when it came time to telling Grimsby anecdotes about St George. If you have a couple of hours, I’ll share them with you.”
He arched his brows. “It’ll take that long?”
“At least.” Or perhaps not. But if we wanted time to discuss everything properly, then yes.
“Some other time, then,” Christopher said. “Maybe on the train home. We’ll need something to talk about.”
“If we ever get out of here.”
“We’ll get out of here,” Christopher said. “Surely it can’t take that long to find out who of a very limited cast of characters could have shot the valet?”
“You wouldn’t think so.” I headed for the door. “Luncheon, then?”
“After you,” Christopher said, and held the door.
SIXTEEN
“How about a walk?”I asked Christopher after luncheon was concluded.
We had made polite conversation over cold meats and salads in the dining room. Crispin had complimented my new blouse, still using the name his mother didn’t want him to use, and she had frowned at him when he did it, but without saying anything.
“You’re born in June, St George,” I had asked, “aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, Darling. Are you planning to throw me a party?” He smirked.
“I hardly think any party I would throw could compare to what you’re used to,” I answered, which I admit wasn’t a very good answer, even if it was true. By that point, I regretted asking and wasn’t sure why I had.
Part of my mind had been on Grimsby’s notes, and how Crispin’s birth date, unlike mine or Christopher’s, had been circled, with an LM? next to it. Clearly there was something about the date, or about Crispin’s birth, that had caught Grimsby’s attention, but I had no idea what it was, or even how to form the question to find out.
