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Agatha had argued bitterly against his leaving. She had been convinced that her blackmailer would be found in Surrey, skulking in the shadows of Danbury House. By the time James exited through the front door, Agatha had been in fine form, grumpy and sullen, more irritable than her cat.
James winced when he thought of poor Elizabeth, stuck in his aunt’s surly company for the past week. But if anyone could draw Agatha out of her temper, he was convinced it was Elizabeth.
Three more days. He would devote no more time to his London investigation. Three days and then he would return to Danbury House, announce his failure to his aunt and his intentions to Elizabeth.
Three more days and he could begin his life anew.
By Friday afternoon, Danbury House was under siege. Elizabeth locked herself in the library for a full hour just to get away from the swarms of servants readying the mansion for that night’s masquerade celebration. There was no escape from the frenzied activity, however; Lady Danbury had insisted that Elizabeth make her preparations at Danbury House. It was a sensible proposal, eliminating the need for Elizabeth to travel home and then return in full costume. But it also made it impossible for her to slip away for a few minutes of peace.
The time in the library didn’t count. How could it count when no less than five servants banged on the door, requesting her opinion on the most inane of matters. Finally Elizabeth had to throw up her hands and yell, “Ask Lady Danbury!”
When the first of the carriages rolled down the drive, Elizabeth fled upstairs to the room Lady Danbury had assigned to her for the evening. The dreaded shepherdess costume hung in the wardrobe, accompanying crook leaning against the wall.
Elizabeth flopped onto the bed. She had no desire to arrive early. She fully expected to spend most of the evening by herself. She didn’t mind her own company, but the last thing she wanted was to be noticeably by herself. Arriving while the party was a true crush meant that she could blend into the crowd. By then, Lady Danbury’s guests ought to be too involved in their own conversations to pay attention to her.
But the guests arrived in a flood rather than a trickle, and Elizabeth knew Lady Danbury well enough to know that the countess would drag her downstairs by the hair if she put off her appearance much longer. So she donned the shepherdess costume, affixed the feathered mask Lady D had also purchased for her, and stood in front of the mirror.
“I look ridiculous,” she said to her reflection. “Utterly ridiculous.” Her white dress was a mass of tucks and frills, adorned with more lace than any shepherdess could afford, and the bodice, while certainly not indecent, was cut lower than anything she’d ever worn before.
“As if any shepherdess could run through the fields wearing this,” she muttered, tugging at the dress. Of course it was unlikely a shepherdess would be wearing a feathered mask, either, but that seemed neither here nor there compared to the expanse of bosom she was showing.
“Oh, I don’t care,” she declared. “No one will know who I am, anyway, and if anyone tries anything untoward, at least I have this blasted crook.”
With that, Elizabeth grabbed the crook and jabbed it in the air like a sword. Satisfactorily armed, she marched out of the room and down the hall. Before she reached the stairs, however, a door swung open, and a woman dressed as a pumpkin came dashing out—right into Elizabeth.
They both hit the carpet with a thud and a flurry of apologies. Elizabeth clambered to her feet, then looked back down at the pumpkin, who was still sitting on her behind.
“Do you need a hand up?” Elizabeth asked.
The pumpkin, who was holding her green mask in her hand, nodded. “Thank you. I’m a bit ungainly these days, I’m afraid.”
It took Elizabeth a couple of blinks, but then she realized what the pum—the lady! she had to stop thinking of her as a pumpkin—meant. “Oh, no!” Elizabeth said, dropping to her knees beside her. “Are you all right? Is your…” She motioned to the lady’s middle, although it was difficult to tell what was the middle under the pumpkin costume.
“I’m fine,” the lady assured her. “Only my pride is bruised, I assure you.”
“Here, let me help you up.” It was difficult to maneuver the costume, but eventually Elizabeth managed to get the lady to her feet.
“I am terribly sorry for crashing into you,” the lady apologized. “It’s just that I was running so late, and I know my husband is downstairs tapping his foot, and—”
“It was no trouble, I assure you,” Elizabeth said. And then, because the lady was such a friendly pumpkin, she added, “I’m rather grateful to you, actually. This might be the first time I haven’t been the cause of such an accident. I’m terribly clumsy.”
Elizabeth’s new friend laughed. “Since we are so well-acquainted, please allow me to be terribly forward and introduce myself. I am Mrs. Blake Ravenscroft, but I would be most insulted if you called me anything but Caroline.”
“I am Miss Elizabeth Hotchkiss, Lady Danbury’s companion.”
“Good gracious, really? I had heard she could be quite a dragon.”
“She’s really very sweet underneath. But I shouldn’t like to get on her bad side.”
Caroline nodded and patted her light brown hair. “Am I mussed?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No more mussed than one would expect of a pumpkin.”
“Yes, I suppose pumpkins can be allowed greater latitude in neatness of coiffure.”
Elizabeth laughed again, liking this woman immensely.
Caroline held out her arm. “Shall we go down?”
