Daisy felt laughter bubble up inside her. What could be more ridiculous? Lieutenant Farthmore, the devil who’d haunted her since she arrived to Ramsgate, had been killed by the cat.
She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop from laughing, as she knew very well this moment could not be one for levity.
“In her defense, she is a very clever cat and entirely unremorseful,” Lord Dalton said.
“Yes,” Daisy said, stifling a giggle, “it seems so.”
“Now, you ought to eat. I’ll fix you a plate. You really do not eat enough.”
Lord Dalton rose and set off to the sideboard.
Daisy felt herself blushing, a circumstance so rare she did not know what to do about it. She willed the heat away from her cheeks. If it were noted, she supposed she might blame it on Mr. Flanagan’s mustard.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In the following days, this or that news came to the house regarding Lieutenant Farthmore’s demise. Sir Matthew had informed the government of the stolen scepter and, as he had thought, it was not to be mentioned. Not by anybody, not at the inquest, and not in any official papers. He did not know what would be done about it and doubted very much he would ever be told.
That did not stop all the talk surrounding the incidents of that night. As it turned out, the government had not cared at all about keeping Lady Montague’s stolen jewels a secret. What was known by people who heard anything about it was that the lieutenant had gone on a wild criminal jaunt. He’d stolen from Lady Montague and then, as he was making off with some silver from Miss Danworth’s house, he fell upon the rocks. His conspirators, whoever they had been, had made off with the loot.
As all bits of gossip were prone to do, over time there was much added to the story. It was speculated that Miss Danworth’s house had only been the second stop in what was likely to be a town-wide thievery. The lieutenant was supposed to have plans to rob absolutely everybody. The tale was told across card tables and at parties, creating a delicious shiver in all who discovered they had made a narrow escape.
Daisy heard most of this from Betsy, who heard it from all her acquaintances in town, most of whom were lady’s maids and housekeepers. According to Betsy, the whole circumstance had provided a wonderful opportunity for butlers and footmen everywhere to speculate on what sort of derring-do they might have committed, had the lieutenant attempted a break-in of their own premises.
Aside from the interest of these stories, Daisy’s days had returned to what they had been. There were afternoons in the garden with Lord Dalton, Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton, overseen by a sleeping Mrs. Jellops. Daisy no longer had to send Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton off to examine a flower, as they were now perfectly capable of sending themselves off. Despite everybody’s turns round the garden, nobody went near the gate that led to the steps. It had been soldered shut, and it would stay that way until the crumbling steps could be properly destroyed, the gate removed, and the gap filled in with solid stone.
Of course, Daisy now viewed the cat in an entirely different light. She supposed she should not give the creature credit for what was certain to have been an accident on the feline’s part. And yet, she could not wholly dismiss the cat’s intent. She was entirely dedicated to Lord Dalton, always under his chair and winding round his legs, and so might she not have sensed the danger to him and done her part? Daisy could not say, but she’d since directed Mr. Flanagan to prepare her special meals of ground up raw fish or an elegant fanning of sardines which she seemed to particularly approve of.
It was now just such a usual day. It was overcast enough that the sun was not in one’s eyes, but not gloomy either, and the clouds scudded overhead, pushed by a brisk breeze off the water. It was still warm, but there was something in the air that hinted of a change of season on the way.
Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton had returned from one of their strolls, Mrs. Jellops had awoken at the sound of tea being poured, and Lord Dalton scratched the cat’s ears under the table. All was exceedingly comfortable, until Mr. Bellamy rushed to their little wood table in the garden, pale and looking as if he’d had a great shock.
Daisy put down the teapot. “Goodness, Bellamy, what is it?”
“It is Lady Montague,” Bellamy said, glancing behind him. “She has arrived. I’ve said you were not at home, but she pointed at Miss Minkerton’s carriage and told me I’d better not dare to go on with such nonsense. She awaits you in the drawing room.”
Daisy felt as if her heart were freezing solid in her chest. She could not imagine what the lady wanted; she could only be sure it would be deeply unpleasant.
“She may wait there all day long,” Daisy said resolutely. “I will not see her.”
Bellamy nodded. “She has already informed me that she is prepared for that eventuality and nothing shall drive her out,” he said.
Daisy looked to Lord Dalton. He said, “Show her out here, then. We will not be inconvenienced by the lady. Further, she is not to imagine she will corner Miss Danworth alone and attempt to run over her.”
“I hardly think she will run over me,” Daisy said, though it was not really true.
“You know what I mean,” Lord Dalton said quietly.
And of course Daisy did know what he meant. She was grateful she was not to face the lady alone.
“She is unpleasant,” Lord Burke said, “but not nearly as powerful as she once was. Further,weare not responsible for her cousin’s actions. I shouldn’t worry about anything she says or does.”
Daisy would like to believe that, but she could not quite. She thought she understood Lady Montague’s modus. There were plenty of people in the world whose power was not very powerful. The lady sought them out and gave them the vague feeling that if they did not see things her way, they would lose whatever little power they had. As Lord Hampton had once said, Lady Montague attacked down, never up.
The lady could, if she set her mind to it, turn a great deal of people against Daisy. Only a month ago, Daisy would not have cared. But she was becoming more and more convinced that isolating herself in Brighton, removing herself from all society, might not be as attractive as she’d originally thought. She had come to no conclusion about how shedidwish to live, but she could not rule out a return to London. And it was London that was Lady Montague’s favored hunting ground.
As well, Daisy found herself so very tired of conflict and danger. She really did not feel up to facing whatever the lady had to say.
Lady Montague, in the full regalia of seaside fashions, topped by a pink beribboned bonnet best worn by a girl of sixteen, strode into the garden.
