She felt a wave of fear grip her, until it suddenly occurred to her what it must be that she’d heard. There were decanters of liquor in the library and she was certain Bellamy or the footmen had decided to slip in and steal a drink. Of course they would think of it, with Mrs. Broadbent safely out of the way above stairs.
Daisy leapt out of bed and silently opened the door. She intended to spot them and then shout at them. That ought to scare the wits out of them, which would be quite right for scaringher.
She moved softly down the corridor, avoiding all the floor planks that were loose and made a sound.
At the top of the staircase, she crouched down. She listened to rustlings and footsteps and then saw the figure of a man pass by the open library door. She could not make out who it was, but the person was dressed as if he’d been to a party. It was no servant.
She turned and hurried away, entirely forgetting to skip over the floor planks that creaked.
“Mrs. Broadbent!” she cried, knocking on the lady’s door. She knew she’d said it far too loud, but panic had overcome her. Someone had broken into the house!
The lady opened the door, her nightcap askew.
“There is someone downstairs,” Daisy whispered.
Though Daisy was certain there could only be terror writ on her features, Mrs. Broadbent was of a different nature. She pulled a wood bat from behind the door and said, “Go in and lock the door behind you. I will deal with the scoundrel.”
“Do be careful, though,” Daisy whispered. “He may be armed.”
“As am I,” Mrs. Broadbent said, charging down the hall. As she neared the top of the stairs, the lady rang the bell pull for fire and the ringing sounded throughout the house.
Though Mrs. Broadbent had told her to lock herself in, Daisy could not in good conscience leave the lady to her fate.
She tentatively followed as the housekeeper bounded down the stairs. From her perch at the top of the stairs, she watched the lady chase after the dark figure, who had made for the front door. He disappeared through it and into the night.
As fast as footmen in nightshirts ran carrying buckets of sand in answer to the ring for fire, Mrs. Jellops staggered down the hall behind Daisy. “Are we on fire?” she cried.
“No, no such thing,” Daisy said. “There was an intruder and Mrs. Broadbent has chased him out.”
“An intruder! This place is well and truly cursed!”
Daisy knew this circumstance was unlikely to do anything good for poor Mrs. Jellops’ nerves, but she could not attend the lady this moment. She must discover what had been meddled with in the library.
“Do go back to bed and I’ll have Betsy bring you up a hot drink, a toddy will do you good.”
“Are there enough toddies in the world to settle me, I wonder,” Mrs. Jellops said, wandering back to her room.
Daisy hurried down the stairs and into the commotion that had since taken over the front hall. The footmen bravely stood at the doors, daring the scoundrel to come back and try his luck with their fists. Bellamy looked equally ready to take on all comers, though he remained safe behind them. The maids stood to the side, admiring the bravery before their eyes and perhaps admiring the bottoms of legs seen below nightshirts. Mr. Flanagan had taken one look at the situation and run back to the kitchens to retrieve heavy pots and pans, those articles of his profession being his preferred weapons. It was only Mrs. Broadbent who was all equanimity and sense.
Daisy hurried to her and the housekeeper pointed at the boys and their butler at the door. “Observe our heroes,” she said.
“Indeed,” Daisy said. “Though you and I know the truth of it. Let us go into the library and discover if anything has been disturbed.”
Betsy was the last to arrive to the scene and was somewhat less in awe to find the footmen and butler standing at the doors and loudly proclaiming they’d give somebody a pounding. She hurried to her mistress.
“Betsy,” Daisy said, “Mrs. Jellops is in a state, do be so good as to whip up some sort of toddy for her and stay with her until I return.”
Betsy bobbed her head. Mrs. Broadbent said, “Be generous with the rum, dove, and make one for yourself while you’re at it. And do be a dear and tell Mr. Flanagan we have no need of his pots and pans.”
Betsy hurried toward the stairs to the kitchens and Mrs. Broadbent said, “Let us proceed.”
Daisy had expected to find some small clue or other that would hint toward why somebody had broken into the house—a fine figurine gone or the desk rifled for money. What met them was astonishing. It seemed every book had been taken off its shelf, every drawer opened. Most alarmingly, paneling on the walls had been pried off, as if someone looked for a secret safe or a hidey-hole. The intruder had clearly been in the house for quite some time.
“Good gracious,” Mrs. Broadbent said.
“This must have taken hours,” Daisy said softly, the horror of the idea coming upon her.
“I suspect, based on the state of the room,” Mrs. Broadbent said, “that whoever this scoundrel is, he did not find what he was looking for.”
