“It is not my dress,” Giles said. “It occurs to me that, yes, Sir John is on the hunt for a large dowry. But not any large dowry. In particular, it must be Miss Dell’s dowry. He is out for moneyandrevenge and only Miss Dell’s dowry will do. It washergrandfather and Martin Folkes that stopped John Hill from becoming a fellow of the society. Folkes doesn’t have a granddaughter of marriageable age. Only Penderton does. Marry Miss Dell and he ends with both—moneyandrevenge. Though, I still do not comprehend why he attempts to revenge John Hill. Perhaps he is a relation of some sort and has taken it on as a family honor sort of thing.”
“Miss Dell will hardly agree to marry the proprietor of funerals in the badly cut coat,” LaRue said disdainfully.
“No, I think you may be right on that point, though not because of his clothes,” Giles said. “At least, I would hope she has more sense. But what will he do if he is refused?”
“Carry her off like a Valkyrie?” LaRue said, clearly amused by his own wit.
“He might try something like it,” Giles said. “Sir John’s Valhalla being Gretna Green.”
“It takes many days to reach the border.”
“That is no matter,” Giles said. “One night in a carriage alone and she’d be ruined. She’d have to marry him.”
LaRue gave a final tug on Giles’ coat to straighten an imaginary wrinkle. “As I say, the English are mad.”
Perhaps theyweremad. Perhaps he was mad. He was inventing plots in the air. It was highly unlikely Sir John had the fortitude to attempt such a thing. It would be a kidnapping. No, certainly not. The persnickety Sir John was not up to such derring-do.
On the other hand, what if Sir Johnwastruly mad? If that were the case, commonsense could not dictate what he might try. Was there not madness in this whole mystery? Sir John attempted to avenge a man long dead for what cause? Only the mad worked to no end.
It could not hurt to be careful. Miss Dell must be put on her guard. Much more on her guard than she had been. He must tell her he sent her the book, and what he had discovered about the name Kullehamnd. She should not go to Mrs. Herschel’s salon until Sir John had been dealt with. It was the one place he knew to find her.
*
Sir John hadkept a careful watch on Lady Hathaway’s house. It had continually amazed him how easy it generally was to discern where a person would be in this town. That was, where a person from any kind of consequential family would be.
The newspapers outlined what parties would be held, where and when—most likely with the assistance of the hostess. For small affairs, one might see reference to particular guests.Mrs. Jamison and Lord Reager are both expected to attend, or some such phrasing. For larger scale events, particularly balls, no list of guests was provided, but usually a number to indicate the size of the gathering. In this case,Lady Hathaway will host upward of two hundred.Along with the size of the ball, it was noted that this was an annual ball and would have a theme. The newspaper claimed that the theme was always a closely guarded secret that was delightfully revealed to her guests upon their arrival.
It was not so secret as far as he could tell. As he watched the first comings and goings, it was clear enough to be a Norse theme. The front doors had just been topped with a papier mâché bow of a ship, a statue he thought might be Odin had been carried to the back of the house not a half hour ago, an enormous mural depicting Valkyries swooping a battlefield followed. Carts full of gold-painted shields had arrived. What he also noticed was the looseness of the preparations.
On a usual day, it would be impossible to penetrate the walls of such a great house. The front doors would be manned by footmen and a butler, the servant’s entrance would lead into the kitchens and a territorial cook. On this day, the back garden was being transformed for the ball, and various workmen came and went as they pleased.
He occasionally saw a man in a stiff black coat walk among the chaos, his hands clasped behind his back as if he surveyed his kingdom. The butler, no doubt. But what that man never seemed to do was question anybody about their right to be there.
He could not initially see how any of this was to his advantage. He was certain Miss Dell would attend the evening, and he was certain that he must act quickly. He must do something before too many questions or suspicions were raised. He must whisk Miss Dell away. But how was he to do it? He had not even a carriage to carry her off in or a pistol to inspire some coachman to lend his vehicle.
Once he had calmed himself with a draught, a part of thehowpresented itself. As the hour grew late and the sun had already disappeared behind the rooftops, God took pity on his confusion. A large cart pulled up with all manner of costume piled high in it. As far as he could tell, there were long black capes and brass breastplates and metal headgear sprouting large black feathers. The helmet had a front piece of hammered metal with two slits punched out to go over the eyes. He very much suspected it was a costume meant to suggest Valkyries.
Sir John casually edged closer to the cart and overheard the driver’s conversation with a servant who’d come jogging to it.
The footman peered into the cart and said, “Ah, yes, this will be for the footmen to wear as they lead the guests over the water to Valhalla.”
The driver had snorted and said, “Thetondo got their notions, don’t they?”
The footman had appeared entirely affronted and said, “I suppose you’ve been paid well for thenotion, as you call it.”
“Aye, don’t get your back up over it,” the driver said.
The footmen nodded and said, “Never mind, carry them to the back entrance and somebody will take them from you.”
The footman strode off to manage the thousand other things that must be attended to. The driver began to haul the contents of the cart to the back of the house. The old man could not carry it all at once, though.
His first idea was to take a costume for himself and bring it home. But it was too bulky! He would be noticed carrying it!
No, he must get a costume off the cart and hide it somewhere. A place deep in a stand of bushes where he could retrieve it when needed.
He hurried across the street and grabbed a breastplate, cape, and headdress. He casually walked to the back garden as if he were only one of the hundred workers swarming the site.
He must only take this first step of finding a way into the ball. The next step would be revealed to him at the right time. He must trust that everything he needed would be provided.
