“I’m sure we all have, Father,” Darden said, in his usual agreeable manner.
“Thinking about it, dreading it, it is all the same,” Van Doren muttered.
Beatrice gave him a sympathetic glance.
And so they went on as they always did these days—Van Doren teased and then soothed by his wife’s sympathetic glances.
*
Tattleton stood bythe sideboard as he did at every dinner, monitoring the work of the footmen and ensuring that the earl’s wine glass did not become empty.
His expression would be inscrutable, he well knew. Nobody looking at him would guess at the turmoil roiling round his breast.
Every new piece of information coming to him painted a worse picture.
How foolish he had been to fear that it was only a dabbling in witchcraft going on under this roof!
That would be nothing compared to what he now suspected.
The dog hair that he had feared was a part of some dark ritual had in fact been glued onto Miss Mayton’s face!
He may have come across that information in a less than usual manner, having listened at the door after he left the drawing room this very afternoon. Was he not to have noticed that Miss Mayton wore a black veil, as if she’d come from a funeral? And then, what could he do after Lady Juliet had requested hot water to unglue a paper collage?
He’d felt, for the safety of the house, he ought to know what was really going on.
The last thing he had imagined was that it was wanted to soften the glue that held dog’s fur to Miss Mayton’s face!
There was only one conclusion to come to—Miss Mayton had disguised herself as a man.
What could be the purpose? What had they been doing?
He knew that something had been strange when they left in the carriage with a sack of some sort. Fleur had later told him that he should not inquire, as it had to do with personal ladies’ matters.
Well, he could not say he knew very much about personal ladies’ matters, or wanted to, but he could not see what dressing as a man had to do with it.
Now, they were intent on having Shrimps back in the house. Was it connected? Should he go to the earl?
As always, when he thought of going to the earl, he was forced to put his wide-ranging thoughts into some sort of coherent paragraph he might communicate.
It never did sound coherent though. “My Lord, it seems that these personal ladies’ matters that have recently been mentioned include Miss Mayton gluing dog hair on her face and somehow Shrimps is involved.”
It made no sense!
Whatever was going on here, Tattleton was very afraid for the day when itwouldmake sense.
What was he to eventually discover?
Whatever it was, he must know. He felt certain that there was some disaster barreling down the road toward them.
He could not stand idly by, allowing the disaster to barrel unimpeded. He must know more. He must talk to Sandren.
The coachman could at least say where they had all gone with a sack and a pile of dog hair plastered on Miss Mayton’s face.
*
Harold Mondrian surveyedhis rooms with a satisfied eye. The neighborhood was not ideal. In truth, it was a particularly dangerous neighborhood. But then, that was what made it so safe for him.
He was never in fear of being chased by criminals, he paid off the right people to avoid it. He feared being chased by those who lived in the better neighborhoods.
