“Yes, I realize,” Percival said, “these books are dreadful.”
“Allow me, my lord, to bring you current regarding the terrible goings-on at a place named Montclair Castle,” Makepeace said.
He said it in a controlled fury and Percival wondered that there was not steam blasting out of his ears.
“Go on,” he said. “I wish to know enough to be able to speak creditably on it.”
“Very well,” Makepeace said, hands clasped behind his back and strolling back and forth. “Though what could be creditable about it escapes me. It seems there was a one-eyed duke widower. Very predictably, he had a governess for his children. Even more predictably, this young governess is described as being very gentle, though I’ve never known a gentle governess in my life. The question of the story, which is repeated numerous times in case the dull readers of such books have failed to perceive it is can this allegedly gentle governess love a one-eyed duke?”
Percival poured himself another coffee, as he was fairly certain he would need it.
The butler stopped in his tracks and turned. Holding a forefinger in the air, he said, “And here is where it becomes somewhat less predictable. It turns out the duke has two perfectly good eyes and is only a madman who imagined he’d lost an eye. He’s been walking round with an eye patch he does not require.”
Makepeace waited for that news to sink in. Percival shrugged as there seemed to be no answer to make to such nonsense.
“Now, the unanswered question of the story whipsaws to if this allegedly gentle governess can love a madman with two eyes. Which, happily, she can. So, they go on, pleased as Punch, while the new duchess spends her days reminding the mad duke about which body parts he has, in fact, not lost. That concludes the goings-on of that particular castle. I challenge you to say something creditable about it.”
Makepeace pulled the book from his inside coat pocket and dropped it on the desk. “Now, I will repair to my rooms to discover what awful happenstances have beset Grimwood Hall.”
As his butler made his exit, Percival would have almost laughed at the situation. Except he really would need to pull some sort of compliment out of the air for these books.
Somewhere in Dembric Dale, there must be some little nugget of something that could be commended. He just must find it.
*
Cordelia found herselfmuch cheered by the time evening came. How could she not? She’d spent the day in the company of Juliet and her aunt, and this evening would see Viola and Rosalind coming. They would only be missing dear Beatrice, who was at home with her new baby and Van Doren.
Lord Darling had followed them everywhere they went throughout the day, including into the drawing room as they awaited her sisters. He was such a charming little thing, though if one looked closely, one might begin to see the wear and tear regarding his interest in chewing on the furnishings.
The earl came into the drawing room and stopped short, staring at Lord Darling.
“Now, Papa,” Cordelia said soothingly, “our poor Lord Darling will be out in the garden any day now, but he is still too young and in too delicate a condition right this moment. Charlie says, and you do remember Charlie grew up on a farm, that he would catch a chill and he would not do well without company.”
“I see, yes, well, as to all that I am sure I cannot say,” the earl said, as Juliet gently nudged Lord Darling away from the hem of the curtains he was eyeing, “I just wonder, at least I did think, that he would be downstairs in the servants’ hall.”
“Of course, he is usually there,” Juliet said, “but just now, with Cook preparing dinner, he would be underfoot.”
“Now, I do like to be agreeable,” the earl said, “but I feel forced to say that the aroma in here is rather like a barn.”
“Well it would be, I suppose,” Miss Mayton said. “Nothing an open window might not remedy?”
Benny hurried to the aforementioned window and threw it open.
“Papa,” Cordelia said, “one of the things I find most wonderful about the Benningtons is that we are always willing to be a little inconvenienced in service to others.”
Her father’s brow wrinkled. “Naturally, service to our fellow man is all well and good,” the earl said, “but he is a goat, Cordelia. I really feel I must point that out.”
Cordelia glanced at Juliet. She said, “Though, this particular inconvenience is alsohelpfulin some ways.”
“Is it?” the earl asked.
“Well, I didn’t like to say,” she said, “as it’s to do with womanly problems.”
“It is?”
Cordelia, Juliet, and Miss Mayton all nodded gravely.
The earl, always helpless in the face of womanly problems, which were a series of mysteries he would very much like to remain mysteries, waved his hands. “We’ll say no more about it.”
