There were some at the table who understood the significance of the letter and others who did not.
Miss Minkerton said to her parents, “We have been awaiting a reply from Lady Grayson to see if she had any idea of who or what a Dagobert is.”
Lady Bartholomew nodded. “Ah, the mystery of the letters between Lord Childress and Lieutenant Farthmore,” she said.
Daisy had not known if Miss Minkerton had told her parents all that was understood of the break-in or the mystery of Dagobert that was noted in her father’s letters, but she found she was glad she did not need to explain it now.
“I propose,” Lady Bartholomew said, “that we have dessert in the drawing room and dispense with the gentlemen hanging behind with their port, if Miss Danworth would not deem it too irregular. The men might have their port in the drawing room if they like it. That way, the reading of the letter might not be delayed as I am sure Miss Danworth is eager to understand its contents.”
Daisy was vastly approving of the idea and nodded her head.
“No smoking though,” Lady Bartholomew chided the men. “I personally cannot abide the smell of smoke and it makes my daughter cough.”
“Does it make you cough?” Lord Burke said solicitously to Miss Minkerton.
The lady nodded and Daisy rose before the lord began comparing Miss Minkerton’s coughs to a Vernet.
The letter lay on the side table in the drawing room, next to the sofa. Daisy picked it up and tore it open.
“Do read it aloud,” Miss Minkerton said, “we are all on tenterhooks over it.”
Daisy smiled and nodded in acquiescence.
My dear Daisy,
I was just beginning a response to the letter you sent me recently when a second arrived of the most unusual kind! Upon reading the name Dagobert, I instantly surmised it must be reference to the last and greatest of the Frankish Kings, now long buried in St. Denis Basilica in Paris. Oh, there is so much I could tell you about his fascinating history! Alas, I fear it would not interest you at this moment in time.
What puzzles me is why anybody would refer to King Dagobert as THE Dagobert or wonder where he is? Or, why would it even be important to know that he is in the Basilica? And then, there was a question of who had possession of him? It is all very odd.
I discussed the matter thoroughly with Lord Grayson and, while he had never heard of King Dagobert, he did have a clever suggestion. He posited that I should put it to the learned men and women it has been my pleasure to become acquainted with, and I have since sent letters all over England. I delayed my reply to you in the hopes that I would have received a response that might shed light on the subject, but so far none have been received. The only promising lead has been from Mr. Croydon, who writes me that he has a friend who is expert on French history and who he has written to on this matter.
Please be assured that the moment I hear something I will send the fastest messenger with the information. Further, I will conduct my own research and have already arranged to meet with Mr. Lackington to see if we can discover something at Lackington and Allen.
How darling of you to send me a mystery to consider!
Now, I must run, my friend. Lord Grayson has taken my free hand and tells me the sun is shining and we must go out and take in the day. As always, he looks entirely dashing and I cannot deny him.
Kitty Dermot
Daisy laid the letter down. “I do not suppose we are much further in our understanding, but I am grateful Lady Grayson will make inquiries.”
“What on earth could involve anybody with a long-dead Frankish king, I wonder?” Lady Bartholomew mused.
“There is something we are missing,” Lord Dalton said, “and I hope Lady Grayson can find it out, perhaps with Mr. Lackington’s assistance. The fellow has a shop with thousands of books in it, certainly there must be something they could discover if they put their minds to it. That is, assuming Grayson does not keep dragging his wife out of doors.”
Daisy found she must bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Lord Dalton had little idea of how true that was. Daisy knew from Kitty’s letters that her friend was always buried in books somewhere, and Lord Grayson was always pulling her away from them. One moment she was delving into a paper recently published by the Royal Society, and the next she was picnicking under an old oak while her lord read her Shakespeare.
“So, the mystery continues,” Lord Bartholomew said.
Bellamy led the footmen in with trays of desserts—berries, jellies, cream tarts and a savarin cake. He sniffed as he laid it out on the card table that would usually see a game of whist. Daisy watched him, having some pity on the fellow, as Bellamy was never very approving of veering away from what would be usual. But then, Bellamy was never very approving of anything.
She supposed he was right in some respects, as a card game would beveryusual and now there was nowhere to play.
In lieu of cards, Daisy urged Miss Minkerton to the pianoforte. As she had suspected, Lord Burke was all too happy to turn the pages for her. After a few airs, Miss Minkerton claimed that Daisy ought to have a chance, but Daisy had already an excuse prepared by way of a supposed sore finger.
She loved playing, and she thought herself skilled, but she would not for the world upstage Miss Minkerton’s moment or interrupt any progress she might be making with Lord Burke.
This, happily, left everybody free to admire Miss Minkerton. Lord Burke was very taken with her playing, as he always seemed to be, and her parents were suitably proud. It was perhaps not quite as delightful for Lord Dalton, as Daisy caught him stifling yawns and re-reading Kitty’s letter.
