“Then he will come back another night,” Daisy said.
“No, miss,” Mrs. Broadbent said, her voice full of efficiency. “He willtryto come back. In the morning, I will send a note to the company that supplies the watchmen and demand an audience. I will give them a stern what-for. Then, I will demand they send twice the men, and they will send their very best. These new men will not just stand around at the bottom of the drive, we will have them surround the house. The boys can sleep in the drawing room as an extra precaution.”
Daisy was comforted by these ideas, and comforted that Mrs. Broadbent seemed well capable of managing things and giving the watchmen service a severe dressing-down.
“But what could this man be after?” she said. “What was he looking for?”
“That I cannot say, miss. But no sort of carryings-on such as this will take place a second time under Maggie Broadbent’s watch. I won’t stand for it!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Charles felt better in the morning and had begun to think it had been the doctor’s wise idea to move him to the Minkerton household. It was a pleasant room, not one which would have awed him in the past, but one that was so superior to his recent accommodations that he could help but appreciate its arrangements. His dinner had been good and, though he was periodically woken by his own coughing, he had spent an entire night without needing to brush an insect off of his face or finding a flea-ridden cat stretched out on his legs.
There was still the mystery of what had happened to him, but with time and distance he’d begun to think it was either a prank, or someone had mistaken him for somebody else. Whatever the circumstance, it was not likely to happen again, the foremost reason being he had quite given up swimming for this season. In truth, he might never look at the sea the same way again. What once had seemed a friendly place had now transformed into something mysterious and untrustworthy.
A footman came in and brought him a tray of eggs and sausage and steaming hot coffee. Also on the tray lay a letter just delivered and Charles recognized the hand easily enough. It was a missive from Bellamy, and he was certain it was filled with all the insults he currently endured at the hands of Mrs. Broadbent.
Had Bellamy not known him since he was child, he would not dare take the liberty of disturbing his rest in such a manner. But the fact was, Bellamyhadknown him since he was a boy. When Bellamy acted as his father’s butler, he’d extricated Charles from no end of scrapes. The butler was the keeper of his boyish secrets and was still the only person who knew that it had been Charles who’d set the drawing room on fire. He’d been in pursuit of a silver snuffbox on the tall mantle of the fireplace, thinking to try out the habit. A wobbly stool, a fall, a candle knocked over on the woven Barbary mat his mother favored in summer, and flames within minutes.
Bellamy had got the fire out and claimed a strong wind had come in an open window. He’d later handed the snuffbox to a shaken Charles and told him that nobody in the house liked the Barbary mats anyway.
As he’d grown into an adult, Bellamy kept other kinds of secrets. A gaggle of actresses at the London house late at night did not raise eyebrows or elicit talk.
He supposed there was bound to be a price to pay for the old fellow’s loyalty. Bellamy’s particular price was free access to his wine cellar and the leave to voice endless complaints.
Charles finished his breakfast and put aside the tray, his coughing hardly interrupting him as it had done the day before.
“I suppose I’d better discover what has insulted him down to his toes this time,” he said to himself, tearing open the letter.
My lord,
The past evening has been most irregular! An intruder broke into the house and ravaged the library. He was bravely pursued by me and the boys, though we could not catch him. We would have given him a severe pounding if we had. Mrs. Broadbent, as highhanded as ever, has called for Mr. Deer, the gentleman who supplies our watchmen. She intends on giving him the what-for, whatever that is, and demanding more and better men.
I knew all along that this would be a rum situation. (Not that we get any rum.) Me and the boys will be spending most of the day attempting to put this library back in order while Mrs. B goes round giving people the what-for. On top of that, she has directed my boys to sleep in the drawing room tonight. SHE has directed THEM. Who am I, I wonder? Am I not the butler? Never have I been so treated.
It will come as no surprise to understand that my lowest appendages are gravely affronted.
Bellamy
Charles dropped the letter. A man had entered the house and searched the library? What would he have done if he were not interrupted? What was going on here?
It did not seem likely that it would be one of Miss Danworth’s hopeless lotharios, else they would not have spent all their time in the library. In any case, he did not really think any of them had the nerve for a kidnapping or some other ludicrous scheme. Knocking on the door was one thing, breaking in during the dead of night was another.
It could not be a coincidence, though, that he’d been nearly drowned yesterday, and then last night while he was conveniently out of the way, someone dared enter the house.
There was danger lurking in the shadows, he just could not fathom from what direction it came.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Burke let himself in. “How do you get on? You look better than you did yesterday.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Charles said. His voice was still raspy, but he was not gripped with coughing when he tried to speak. “I must get my clothes, I must return to Miss Danworth at once.”
“Certainly not,” Burke said. “The doctor will come this morning and he will be the judge of what must be done at once, which I suspect will be nothing but rest.”
Charles handed Burke the letter and said, “Ignore all the complaining and just take in the facts.”
As Burke read through the note, Charles threw his covers off and sat up. He felt a bit woozy doing so, but it was impossible for him to lie there after Miss Danworth’s doors had been breached.
Burke laid down the letter. “But who—”
