Tattleton sighed. This time. If the two last times were anything to go by, he’d be less holding on to his hat and more clutching at his heart.
“There now,” the housekeeper said, always being very attuned to his moods, “there is every chance that nothing at all untoward will occur. We could find ourselves positively bored by the sensible routine of it all.”
Over their heads, they heard screeching from the drawing room. “Bad man! Charming Chester!”
Tattleton gazed dolefully at the stairs. “I have little hope of it, Mrs. Huffson. Desperately little hope.”
*
The Benningtons hadarrived at Portland Place and Viola and her sisters had seen that Chester was settled in the drawing room.
First, they’d let him out of his cage for a while so he could stretch his wings. He quite enjoyed himself, flapping across the room to land on the mantel, then crashing onto the window seat and clawing his way up the curtains, then coming down and waddling across the floor in the most charming manner possible.
Naturally, he did not yet know the room well, so there were a few items knocked over and a bowl chipped. Then of course, his claws were rather sharp, which was not at all his fault and just as nature intended, though they did make some holes in the silk curtains.
Chester was lured back into his cage with a biscuit when he seemed to get tired of flapping round. He very happily went inside and Viola was certain he felt safe there after all the upheaval in his life over the past days. The poor thing had seemed delighted to see the last of Mr. Ladle, but he’d not taken to the swaying of the carriage at all well.
At one point he’d fallen off his perch and laid still and they very much feared he was dead. They’d stopped the coach and he’d eventually struggled upright again, however he swayed back and forth though the carriage remained at a stop. It had taken him some minutes to regain his equilibrium and steady himself.
Getting Chester comfortable in his new home had helped to pass the time as they waited for their dear brother Darden. The earl had sent a note to the Young Bucks Club, a club Darden had founded—his family had arrived and he was expected to dinner.
Viola looked up as they heard the familiar crash of the front doors. They all knew it would be Darden, as he never came softly into the house.
He was in the drawing room in moments.
“Darden!” Juliet cried, launching herself at him.
Not to be left behind, Viola and Cordelia followed suit.
“Hello, my sisters,” he said, muffled by the yards of muslin just now engulfing him.
“Our dear brother,” Cordelia said.
“Our best brother,” Juliet said.
“We have missed our brother,” Viola said.
“And guess what, Darden,” Juliet said, “we’ve got a parrot!”
“Of course you do,” Darden said laughing.
“We rescued him from a very unpleasant man named Mr. Ladle,” Viola added.
“How else would it be?” Darden asked.
“His name is Chester,” Cordelia said.
“Very fitting. Do let me breathe now,” Darden said, untangling himself.
Juliet took him by the hand and led him to the birdcage.
Chester was very charmingly preening his feathers. The bird looked up and said quietly, “Bad man.”
“No, Chester,” Viola said, “not all men are bad. You only think so on account of Mr. Ladle. You’ll see that our dear Darden is quite a different sort.”
Chester did not look entirely convinced, but he did not repeat the condemnation.
“Oh, guess what else?” Juliet asked. “You’ll never guess.”
