When Rosalind andMiss Mayton had come home, Rosalind did not hear a peep from her sisters. Presuming them all abed, she’d waited for Lynette to come to help her into her nightclothes.
Once Lynettehadcome, she’d heard the exciting news from below stairs. Bess had been pregnant, was now the proud mother of eight darling puppies, and her sisters had dragged pillows and blankets down to the servants’ hall so they might spend this first critical night by Bess’ side.
Rosalind and Miss Mayton had quickly changed into their own nightclothes, donned robes and slippers, and gone down to see for themselves.
Rosalind found the table and chairs in the servants’ dining hall had been pushed to one side of the room. Her sisters were all splayed out on blankets with a sleeping Bess and her snoring pups in the middle.
She and Miss Mayton had squeezed in among them and they had been happily exchanging news ever since.
“So you did play the pianoforte, then?” Cordelia asked.
“Oh yes, Papa and Darden were worried over nothing,” Rosalind said.
Her dear Papa. He always was so considerate of other people’s feelings. Upon hearing that Miss Mayton had taken the liberty of accepting Lady Hightower’s invitation, he had said perhaps they should not go. He’d said that her original way of playing might intimidate those that were less original.
But then Miss Mayton had pointed out that they’d already accepted the invitation and it was a musical evening, not a rout. Those bowing out of such a small gathering would cause some disturbance to the hostess.
They had finally settled on the idea that Rosalind would claim a sprained finger. In that way, they would fill two of Lady Hightower’s chairs, but would not fell the other ladies with Rosalind’s playing.
“You see,” Miss Mayton said as Fleur put her hair up in curl papers, “we were able to ascertain from Lady Mary that all the ladies who would play would be quite good. There was no danger in Rosalind frightening anybody with her talent.”
“I suppose Conbatten was bowled over by Rosalind’s playing,” Juliet said. “It’s so original, anybody must be struck by it. You never know, from minute to minute, where it’s going.”
“He seemed exceedingly struck,” Miss Mayton said.
Rosalind sighed. “But when will his moment come? That delicious moment when he can rescue me from something?”
“No masked thieves turned up, then?” Juliet asked.
Rosalind shook her head. “Aunt even speculated that there might be a house fire and he would have to carry my lifeless body to safety, but that didn’t happen either.”
“I am convinced the fates want you to get the ball rolling down the hill somehow,” Viola said. “Recall, Rosalind, that when you spoke of my red-haired gentleman perhaps haunting the park to get a look at me, what did we do? We went to the park. We took action and then the fates helped us along.”
“I believe you may be right,” Rosalind said. “We could arrange something. For instance, what if I were to encounter Conbatten on the street and then as we were having one of our lovely conversations, I was to be accosted by a pickpocket?”
“You could pay a pickpocket!” Juliet said. “You could pay him a fee and then he could return whatever was taken later.”
“We do not know any pickpockets though,” Cordelia said.
That was very true. Despite their ever-growing list of acquaintances in London, not a one of them was a pickpocket.
Rosalind sighed. “I believe we are going in the right direction in all of this, we will just need to think over how it is best accomplished.”
“Very sensible,” Miss Mayton said.
One of the pups yawned and stretched and then curled up.
“They are so charming,” Rosalind said, gazing down at the little darlings.
“And guess what, Rosalind,” Juliet said, “our dear little Bess seems cured of her only problem. We have not needed to open the windows even once.”
“We think the noxious fumes must have been caused by her pregnancy,” Viola added.
“Tattleton will be very pleased to know it,” Rosalind said. “He’s mentioned the situation to Papa several times.”
“You would think he’d be delighted that she managed eight little babies all on her own,” Cordelia said, “but when he retired for the night, he looked rather distraught.”
“Poor Tattleton,” Juliet said softly. “He always does take things to heart. I suppose another burn hole in the rug and eight new dogs was too much for him.”
