The right course would no doubt present itself. For now, though she might not have set herowncourse, she’d at least set the courses for dinner and it was time to go above stairs and change.
The first courses were out and, so far, the dinner had come off well. Mr. Flanagan, always a talented cook, seemed to take the idea of guests as a very personal and serious challenge. The dishes were composed so skillfully that Lady Bartholomew commented they must employ an artist in the kitchens.
Each dish, whether it be mackerels resting on delicate fronds of fennel dotted with capers, or a round of beef festively sat on large green slabs of cabbage from the garden, or a cod shoulder settled amidst thin-sliced lemons, was a delight. The fish was the most spectacular of Mr. Flanagan’s efforts and Daisy knew from Mrs. Broadbent that he’d spent the early morning haranguing fishermen to acquire just what he wanted.
Daisy had ordered the extra leaves taken out of the table so they were not talking across great distances. This seemed to suit everybody, but it perhaps suited Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton the most. It had given Lord Burke the opportunity of extolling one of Miss Minkerton’s recent efforts at painting the seashore. According to Lord Burke, she had a remarkable ability to capture the landscape, and in particular the lighting, that was near equal in skill to a Claude-Joseph Vernet.
According to the pressed lips and sudden concentration on plates seen round the table, the only person who did not find the notion ridiculous was Lord Burke.
And, Daisy supposed, Mrs. Jellops, who said, “Are they as good as that?”
Miss Minkerton did make a valiant effort to demur, telling Mrs. Jellops that they certainly were not as good as that.
Miss Minkerton probably wished she did not say so, as that only led to Mrs. Jellops saying, “Beautyisin the eye of the beholder, though.”
Lord Burke nodded sagely, as if to say that this beholder was quite sure of his opinion.
Daisy was now certain that Miss Minkerton’s fears of being viewed as a sister were wholly unwarranted. Lord Burke was sensible through and through, yet only a besotted fool could compare one of Miss Minkerton’s paintings to a Vernet. Her efforts were pleasant enough, as Daisy had seen for herself when the lady painted in her garden, but they were not out of the usual way.
Dear Lord Burke had been blinded and made insensible and it was delightful to witness.
Lord Dalton, not appearing as delighted to see his friend in such a befuddled state, said, “Lord Bartholomew, I understand you served directly under Wellington. Had you ever heard anything of amphibious operations at the siege of Tarragona?”
Daisy was surprised by the question, as it was no doubt about Lady Montague’s comments regarding Lieutenant Farthmore’s history at Tarragona. She had not expected that to be a topic of conversation. Lord Bartholomew, however, appeared vastly amused.
“Good heavens,” he said laughing, “what a travesty! I had not thought the circumstance was common knowledge—Wellington was irate over it. I must admit I was surprised to hear Lady Montague hint of it at the prince’s assembly. If I were involved in such nonsense, I might keep it very quietly under my hat.”
Lord Dalton looked at Daisy in surprise, then he said, “But what did she hint of, exactly?”
Lord Bartholomew took a sip of wine and put his glass on the table. “Well, you know how things went at Tarragona—if there was a wrong way to go it was taken. Apparently, unknown to Murray or Admiral Carew, one of his men devised some sort of snorkel—a tube one could breathe through underwater. The plan, as we eventually heard it, was to launch a bunch of seamen, swimming around with weights tied round their waists to keep them just below the surface, to spy on the coast.”
Daisy began to get a sinking feeling, just as she supposed the seamen had.
Lord Bartholomew went on. “Well, you can imagine how that went wrong. Murray was told of this remarkable plan when five of the men did not return after their first try at the thing. Drowned, the lot of them, as it was supposed that their weights were secured so tightly they could not throw them off when they needed to. Poor souls.”
“But they did notalldrown,” Daisy said.
“No, I suppose not,” Lord Bartholomew said. “I understood there were fifteen or so involved though we never did receive the list of names we requested. No surprise, really, considering what came afterward.”
Daisy nodded. The siege had been wildly unsuccessful. Major-General Murray had been court-martialed, though in the end he received only a scolding.
She glanced at Lord Dalton and knew they were both coming to the same conclusion. Lieutenant Farthmore must have been one of the men who’d survived. Had he not always bragged he could do better than Murray? Had he not always claimed that he had better ideas?
It would not surprise Daisy to learn that the lieutenant had not just been among the men, but had been the one to come up with the idea. And that meant Lieutenant Farthmore was the person who’d pulled Lord Dalton underwater. It really could not be otherwise. Who else might have the skill to approach a person underwater, without being seen?
The idea sent a chill down Daisy’s spine. Why would Farthmore attempt to kill Lord Dalton? He’d been thrown from the house and of course he’d been insulted by it, but to enact such a scheme? A murderous scheme?
In the distance, Daisy heard the unmistakable clip-clop of a horse’s hooves approaching. She gripped her fork, having the irrational feeling that it might be the lieutenant approaching.
Lord Dalton rose and said, “I will go with Bellamy to see who calls at this hour. Another invitation from the prince, no doubt.”
Daisy felt that reassurance was given to her alone, to ease her mind. It did not particularly ease it, as she well knew the prince’s emissaries would arrive in a carriage and not a lone rider on horseback.
But if it were Farthmore, surely the watchmen would not have let him through the gates?
The table was silent as they all listened for what might be heard in the front hall. There was nothing intelligible, except for muffled voices and then the door closing.
Lord Dalton came back into the dining room and said, “It was only a letter, delivered by messenger. It is from Lady Grayson.”
