And then, her hand on the latch, she hesitated.
What if she was wrong? What if Charles Mailer was on the other side of this door? Could William even reach up high enough to depress the latch of the French doors? Would he have shut this door behind him? Children of his age didn’t close doors; they simply left them swinging as they pursued what it was they were pursuing.
Besides, if he had used the doors, he’d already be at the greenhouse, now wouldn’t he?
Daisy made an about-face and headed for the kitchens and the servant door. “Good morning, ladies,” she said as she leisurely walked past the cook and two scullery maids. “My, my, doesn’t it smell wonderful in here. No, Sarah, thank you, I would love an iced bun, but not at the moment.”
As governess, Daisy knew she was considered neither fish nor fowl in any household she inhabited. Not good enough to dine with the family or even the housekeeper and butler, yet too far above the other servants to sit in the servant hall. A governess by and large led a lonely existence, which was why she took great pains to cultivate the servants. Not only did most appreciate the attention, the compliments, but over time it also provided Daisy with treats. She adored treats.
Once outside, she picked up her pace again, only to find the greenhouse locked. William may have gotten this far somehow, but he couldn’t have gained entry. That left two more choices—either a return to her first assumption, the library, or searching the entire estate, both inside and out. A monumental task.
She’d get the library out of the way, then move on from there.
Anxious and distracted, Daisy nearly missed the unexpected opening of the French doors as she cut across the flagstones and approached the library. Not wishing to have to explain what she was doing outside, and without her charges, she quickly stepped behind a tall potted shrubbery, praying she wouldn’t be seen.
“There, fresh air. That’s better. This room reeks of inferior cigars. I still cannot fathom why you allow him to run loose.”
“But you approved him.” The second voice belonged to Charles Mailer, the first to an unknown man.
“She approved him.”
“Yes, but isn’t she in charge? You said nothing when it came time for the vote. You
were
there, weren’t you? I could have sworn...”
“
We
are in charge. But not everyone has to know what we know. It pays not to be too inquisitive. Let that serve as the only reminder you will receive. You’ve still got to explain your flit from London after City died.”
“But I did explain,” Mailer whined. “I thought we’d done something wrong. I thought Archie was...eliminated. I wanted to come here, where I could collect my thoughts, contact you. But it was an accident, the dray wagon? It wasn’t the Society?”
“Spoken like a coward with a guilty conscience. You never did tell me why you thought we might wish to eliminate the pair of you. Would you care to do that now?”
“It was this fellow, this Simon Ravenbill man, the Marquis of Singleton. Bird’s brother, remember? He was after Archie and me all the time. Always where we were, going so far as to tell our wives he was watching us. The cheek of the man! We did nothing wrong, Archie and me. Bird put a period to his own existence, we had nothing to do with it. We just thought...well, we thought maybe you thought we had become a, you know, a liability. And then Archie was dead. I told you that.”
“You did. Did I tell you the marquis is now betrothed to the Redgrave girl?”
“My God, no.”
“Your cursed God, yes. And quite friendly with all the Redgraves, down to being in residence at Redgrave Manor at this very moment. Being in residence the night we lost our last shipment to this supposed band of pirates.
Now,
you flame-headed buffoon, do you realize why we had you bring him here, hmm, and why he was so happy to help you convince him?”
“He’s somehow onto us. We’re going to eliminate him?”
“Not immediately, no. We have him, we may as well use him, hopefully more than once. Here, take this, as I’m through explaining myself to you. You know what to do with it.”
Daisy wished she dared sneak out from her hiding place to see whatever the man had just given Mailer, but if she were caught she’d be of no use to Valentine at all. They were onto him. He had to be warned.
“I want to make mud pies, but I can’t find any eyes.”
Daisy thought her heart would burst through her chest. She turned around quickly, to see William standing directly behind her, his clothing wet, his hands and legs covered in mud. She went down on her knees and grabbed him at the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake him only by a great application of restraint. “Where have you been?” she whispered fiercely. “No, I can already see where you’ve been—come with me, now.”
William stamped his foot, spraying mud and water on Daisy’s skirt. “
No! I want to make mud pies!”
“Someone’s out there. Who’s out there?”
“Demmed if I know,” Mailer said, even as Daisy heard his footfalls on the flagstones. There was no running away, no hiding. She stood up, took one of William’s hands in hers, and adjusted her glasses more firmly on her nose.
“My lord,” she said, stepping out from behind the potted evergreen, to curtsy stiffly and say condemningly, “Your son is incorrigible, an abomination. I hereby hand in my notice, effective at the end of the current month, and wish you luck in finding anyone who could even attempt to control his devilish, contrary ways. I gladly forfeit any severance pay, but will demand a glowing letter of recommendation—
glowing,
sir—for all I’ve had to put up with dealing with this spawn of Satan. Are we agreed?”
There was laughter heard from inside the library. “An incorrigible abomination? Devilish ways, spawn of Satan. My congratulations, old sport, you’ve done at least one thing correctly, unless you were cuckolded, which were I you, I’d suspect.”
His lordship looked at his son, quite nearly smiling, and rather clumsily patted him on the top of his head. He then glared at Daisy, who returned his look from between slitted eyelids, standing her ground like a Trojan (or at least she hoped so). She’d used the largest words possible, certain William wouldn’t understand what she’d said about him, and purposely tossed in those references to Satan.
“Agreed,” Mailer said at last, keeping his voice lowered. “I never wanted you and your prissy ways here, anyway. Now get my boy here cleaned up and get him a sugar treat. As many as he wants.”
Daisy didn’t respond verbally—she couldn’t be certain her voice wouldn’t quaver with relief—but only dropped another stiff curtsy and walked off with William’s hand still in hers.
“Papa patted my head,” he told Daisy as she walked toward the greenhouse once more.
“Yes, wasn’t that wonderfully condescending of him,” she said, grabbing up an oaken bucket she’d seen outside the greenhouse earlier, never breaking her stride. “You’re a good little boy, or at the very least very good at being a little boy, and you will eventually grow into a fine, kind man. Always remember that, Willie.”
“Yes, ma’am. Are we going to make mud pies?”
“Indeed we are, young Master William, once we’re back in the nursery, indeed we are,” she told him as they neared the thankfully shallow stream behind the greenhouse. She could see the indentation of William’s small shoes on the soft bank.
She dipped the bucket into the water, dragging it along its muddy bottom, and then pulled it onto the bank to inspect its contents. “And learn all about tadpoles, as well, it would seem. We need to add more mud, though. Why don’t you scoop some up with your hands?” she said, determined to give the boy a wonderful memory from this day. The child was probably going to need some of those.
* * *
V
ALENTINE
HAD
BEEN
hidden from sight at the abandoned spinney, the agreed-upon location less than a mile along the road leading to the village, long enough to begin second-guessing his brilliance.
He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open, frowned at the dial and then looked up at the position of the sun in the sky, to double check the accuracy of the timepiece presented to him by Trixie upon attaining his majority. Because the gift was from his grandmother, the engravings on the watch didn’t bear much close scrutiny, at least by the ladies. Daisy wouldn’t approve...perhaps Piffkin would accept it as a reward for faithful service.
He smiled, realizing what his thoughts revealed, slipped the timepiece back in his pocket and remembered he was turning impatient.
Charfield must be slower off the mark than even Valentine had given him credit for, if he was taking this long even with Twitchill’s help. It couldn’t be that the coachman had lost his way; he’d had sufficient time to reconnoiter the area and remember its location.
“Yer lordship?”
Valentine all but jumped out of his skin. He’d been so busy watching the front of him, he’d forgotten to pay attention to the back of him. In the wrong situation, that could have been his very last mortal thought, he pointed out to himself as he turned around to see the young woman holding the hand of a boy no more than eight or ten.
“Good morning, miss,” he said, taking off his hat and offering the woman an elegant, sweeping bow. “You would be Twitchill’s new friend?”
The woman gave a toss of her head. She was young, probably no more than Valentine’s own age, but she had the proverbial “ridden hard and put away wet” look to her of someone who had seen more of life than her summers would indicate. She held out a fairly filthy paw to show him the gold piece on her palm. “Don’t need no more friends. What I needs is the mate ta this.”
“Which you shall have, once you’ve completed the task Twitchill set before you. If you don’t mind, I would like to hear you tell me what that task is, all right?”
The woman sighed. “Show up here at the spinney with m’brother, say m’good days to the gentry cove there, stand in plain sight until the large’un what gave me this coin and two others shows their faces, wait until the gentry cove tosses me the other coin, and then take Georgie here and run like blazes ’til we’re home again. I knows that’s right, ’cause he made me say it a dozen times. Now show me the coin.”
“Excellent.” Valentine pulled the coin from his pocket and held it up to her. “Would you care to bite it?”
She looked as if she might accept his offer, but then shook her head. “This is havey-cavey business, ain’t it?”
“It is. And if you should ever think to use Georgie here in any such way again, I’ll know about it and you’ll be the worst for it, understood? You shouldn’t be doing it now.”
“I shouldna worry my head about that, yer lordship. Hiram!”
Valentine heard the crack of a dry branch behind him, followed by the appearance of a red-shirt-clad trio of mountains with arms like tree trunks and fists like ham hocks. They didn’t look too smart, but when you’re that big, smart isn’t always needed.
“Hullo there, Hiram,” Valentine repeated, bowing, and then looking to the other two men, “and et cetera. Out for a stroll?”
“Wuz told I could bring m’other brothers along,” the young woman said, grinning so that the gap between her two front teeth was evident...and repeated in the smiles of all four brothers. “Get yerself back in the trees, Hiram. You, too,” she added, waving at the other brothers.
Valentine doffed his hat once more, this time finishing by wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve. “I must remember to thank Twitchill when I see him. My heart hasn’t had such exercise in quite some time.” Then his smile faded. “All right, I think we need to take up our positions now. Remember, when I toss the coin to you, you run off home...you and
all
of your brothers.”
“I knows what this be about, yer know,” she told him as she held tight to her brother’s hand and walked to the dry well at the center of the abandoned spinney, putting the boy in front of her, her hands clamped on his shoulders. “The miller, he warned us all, after his boy comes crawlin’ home a while back, all bawlin’ and hurtin’ an’ tol’ him how he come ta have a pocketful of coins. Sent Bertie off ta live with his granny, the miller did. Don’t knows what happened, but it was terrible bad.”
“There’ll be no more Berties after today. I promise you. Now, quiet, the two of you.” Valentine stepped back into the trees, hoping Hiram and his brothers didn’t have their own form of justice in mind. He was having enough trouble controlling his own blinding anger.
An excruciatingly long five minutes passed, during which the girl sang an old ditty about a lovelorn lass and her brother dug for (and found) hidden treasure in his left nostril. Finally, three horses rode into the clearing, led by Twitchill, who held back branches so that an angry-looking Charfield and a near-to-weeping Frappton could pass through ahead of him.
Charfield was grumbling. “I still don’t see why we had to come to this godforsaken spot to conclude our transaction. There are burrs on my jacket. Burrs! This will cost you, my good— Ah. Well, now there he is. And with an added treat you didn’t mention, did you? What say you, Frappton? Cleaned up a bit, she’d be more than good enough for you.”
“Sir?” Frappton asked. Even from a distance of thirty feet Valentine could see the man’s bottom lip trembling. “I really don’t understand why—”
“No, of course you don’t, never yet having the delight. But you will. All right, my good man, let’s get down to cases. How much for the pair of them?”
“Twenty quid, and a twist of tobacco,” Twitchill grumbled, “and you’re robbin’ me blind at that.”
“Twenty quid? Are you daft, man?” Charfield swung his leg back and over his mount and lightly hopped to the ground. “For that, I’ll need a personal inspection, now won’t I?”
“Now,” Valentine called out as he stepped from the trees, the gold coin already singing through the air. The young woman deftly snagged it, grabbed her brother’s hand, turned about and they both ran as if the hounds of hell were after them. Which, in one way, they were.
Twitchill had dismounted, as well, and was now holding a wicked-looking coach gun pointed directly at Charfield’s head.