It had not, perhaps, been the household staff’s intention to listen in on the lord and Miss Danworth talking in the darkness, but they had not been terribly successful at ignoring it. Or shutting the open window so they would not hear it. After all, itwasthe kitchens and very warm even on a cool night.
Tom had been reading fromThe Mysteries of Udolphobut had silently closed it and laid it down. The rest of the occupants round the table might have even slightly leaned themselves toward the errant open window.
Now, the lord and Miss Danworth had ended their conversation, the lady shutting her window with a decided thump and the lord marching back to his cottage. They sat in silence, a horror hanging over them.
“That poor dove,” Mrs. Broadbent said.
“For once,” Bellamy said, “we are in agreement.”
“A most unnatural father,” Mr. Flanagan said. “I feel myself going red in the face just thinking of it. I wouldn’t mind digging the old scoundrel up and beating him about the head with my pots and pans.”
“But,” Gerald stuttered, “can a pa really be that devilish to his own flesh and blood?”
“He can,” Betsy said, being the resident authority on the matter, “and he was. I could tell you stories that would curl your hair and set it on fire.”
The Mysteries of Udolphoclattered to the floor and nobody bothered to pick it up. In a confidential tone, Betsy regaled them with tales of what she had witnessed, and perhaps things she had not witnessed and only thought the master capable of.
The tales were dark and threatening and had put a chill down their spines as no mere story in a book could. They retired to their respective rooms with candles held high in front of them in case the dead man was to rise again and catch them in the halls. For all their trepidation, every single one of them planned to be conveniently nearby an open window on the following night. There might be further horrors to come.
And so they did gather the next night, and remained so every night. Their drinking chocolate in hand and leaning toward the open window, they sat silent and listened to Lord Dalton and Miss Danworth.
It was not every evening that they heard some terrible tale. In truth, most nights were quite usual conversations that flitted from subject to subject. Lord Dalton and Miss Danworth exchanged views on everything from politics to the cat to sidesaddles to India muslin to preferred newspapers. They were in hearty agreement that Brighton was superior to Ramsgate, though Miss Danworth had yet to even visit that town. They even discussed the recent news of the streets of Birmingham having been lit by gas lamps, Miss Danworth thinking it might appear cheery and Lord Dalton thinking it might appear blown to bits one day soon. Mr. Flanagan said they’d begun to sound like an old married couple, which struck everybody harder than he would have thought.
They had almost decided to go back toThe Mysteries of Udolphowhen one evening, Miss Danworth was heard to say, “Lord Dalton, if I might ask, what made you decide you would not marry? Are your mother and father terribly unhappy?”
The servants round the table froze. They were intrigued to view Bellamy’s reaction to that question.
He shook his head vigorously and whispered, “That’s not the reason.”
They were even more intrigued to hear where the conversation went from there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Daisy had found a strange comfort in her nightly talks with Lord Dalton. The only uncomfortable part was that she knew she was allowing her feelings to run on ahead of her.
Suddenly, the idea of marriage did not seem so frightening. At least, not frightening if a particular individual was considered.
She’d already admitted to herself that she’d always been a little in love with Lord Dalton. She had always felt more like herself with him than she ever had attempting to converse with an over-cheerful fop. A little in love had been perhaps as much as she’d ever allowed herself to be. But, she knew her feelings were more thana littlethese days.
She knew so much about him now. That was, she knew so much but for the big question. Why had he sworn he’d never marry?
What would she do when she found out? Would it cool her feelings, which were beginning to run far hotter than was quite safe? What was she to do when they both went their separate ways? Would she remove to Brighton alone, as she said she would? The whole idea had begun to seem most unsatisfactory!
If she were honest with herself, she would marry him if she could. But only him. There could not be another like him.
She was setting herself up for heartbreak and she knew it, but she could not stop. Her feelings had become a runaway carriage barreling down a steep hill. Only the inevitable crash would halt them.
Still, she pressed on.
The night was the coldest yet and aside from her heaviest dressing gown and a well-built fire, she had piled a thick blanket on her lap. It was so chill out of doors that she wondered if he would come. Certainly, he would have to give it up at some point.
He did come, though.
They talked of this or that, though Daisy could hardly keep her attention on it. Then, she said what had been on her mind for so long. “Lord Dalton, if I might ask, what made you decide you would not marry? Are your father and mother terribly unhappy?”
“The duke and duchess?” Lord Dalton said, almost sounding amused. “They go on well enough. He does what she says when it comes to social engagements and she leaves him alone about his clubs. They are fond of one another, I think. At least, it has always seemed so to me.”
Daisy was silent for some moments. She supposed she had assumed his determination to remain a bachelor must be connected to an unhappy household, as that was what she herself had experienced. But if it were not that, what on earth was it?
