A twitch of that same eyebrow signaled perplexity at Owen’s query, and Phoebe easily surmised Ernie didn’t appreciate being questioned about entering the very grounds he felt entitled to own.
“I’ve come to see how Julia is doing, and to deliver a message to her.”
“A message?” When Ernie offered up no further information, Phoebe said, “She’s been fine. No more false contractions.”
“That’s good to hear, but we still must keep a very close watch on her.”
Something in the way he said we bothered Phoebe. “We will, I assure you.” She applied enough emphasis to drive the point home that Julia’s family would take good care of her—no need for him to trouble himself.
He shivered beneath his tweed suit coat, though Phoebe herself found the morning a temperate one.
“May we go in?” Ernie asked.
“Sorry, of course.”
Phoebe went to the terrace doors. Owen reached to open one, and Phoebe preceded the men inside. The drawing room appeared deserted, until a light rustle from the far corner, beside the windows near the piano, alerted them to Mildred Blair’s presence. She held a teacup in her lap.
“Ernie. What a surprise to see you here this morning. And . . .” She narrowed her eyes slightly to see across the long room. “Why, good heavens, is that Owen Seabright?” She set her teacup aside and came to her feet. Her hand extended, she strode to them looking, for all the world, like a film star greeting her audience. “How lovely of you to visit us. I do hope you’ll be staying on a few days. I’ll have Carmichael prepare a room for you. Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Previously Phoebe might have burned with ire and jealousy. She knew shameless flirting when she saw it, and it wasn’t the first time Mildred had practically thrown herself at Owen. Then, as now, he returned her overtures with nothing more than courtesy of a sort that wiped the grin from Mildred’s face.
“How do you do, Miss Blair? I haven’t decided whether I’m staying on yet, and, no, I haven’t eaten. Phoebe, have you?” When Phoebe replied in the negative, he went on, “Splendid, then we can enjoy a bite together. Miss Blair, would you care to join us?”
Her lips flattening, she shook her head. “I’ve had my toast and jam, thank you.” She immediately switched her attention to Ernie. “Did you say why you’ve come? I didn’t hear.”
“He wishes to check on Julia,” Phoebe said, still curious about the message he said he must deliver. “Have you seen her up yet?”
“As far as I know, Her Majesty has yet to show her face downstairs.” Mildred smiled without warmth and returned to her corner of the drawing room, where Phoebe now noticed she had her lap desk on the table beside her chair.
“Ernie, please show Owen into the dining room, and I’ll go up and see if Julia is ready to come down. I know she’ll be delighted to see you, Owen,” Phoebe said.
After she parted with the men, Phoebe walked sedately to the staircase, but once she saw them enter the dining room, she took the steps at a run. Moments later she knocked quietly, but urgently, on Julia’s bedroom door. Hetta opened it and Phoebe came right to the point.
“Ernie’s here, and I believe he’s up to something again. He says he’s got a message for you, but hasn’t said what it is.”
Hetta returned to Julia’s side before the long dressing mirror and finished buttoning the buttons up the back of the long tunic that overlaid her skirt. Then she set to work draping the fabric, just so, around Julia’s belly, to charming effect.
“He did say the message was for me, didn’t he?” Julia said in an offhand manner.
“Well, yes,” Phoebe agreed, “but he seemed rather mysterious.”
Julia tipped her head as she scanned herself in the mirror. She turned this way and that and smoothed a hand lightly over the tunic with a satisfied air. “I wonder whom this message is from . . .” Suddenly she whirled about, her expression going from disinterested to concerned in an instant. “That will be all, thank you, Hetta.” To Phoebe, she said, “Let’s get down there. I have a bad feeling.”
The rest of the household, excepting Mildred, were all in the dining room, Fox and Trent with heaping plates of eggs, black pudding, and toast, Amelia with a light selection of fruit and sliced ham, and Veronica with scones and jam and a soft-boiled egg. Jester roamed around the table, his nose working. After darting glances to the right and left of her, Amelia slipped a hand beneath the table. Jester sauntered over to her, and Phoebe heard a quick gulp. No one else noticed, and Phoebe decided to keep their secret.
Owen and Ernie were just turning away from the buffet. Phoebe and Julia joined them there.
“Your sister was right, Julia. You’re looking quite well,” Ernie said.
A gleam in Ernie’s gaze struck Phoebe as predatory. This could only mean troubling news, at least for Julia.
“No more pains?” he inquired.
Julia frowned. “Really, Ernie, this is hardly the place to discuss such things. And while I appreciate your coming to my aid, if I need a physician I’ll ring up Dr. Wright again.”
“Just remember that since I’m here on the estate, I’m infinitely closer to you than Dr. Wright, should a sudden need arise.”
Her face tight with annoyance, Julia filled her plate with much more food than she typically consumed for breakfast and went to the table. Ernie hurried there ahead of her, set down his own plate, and held her chair. Julia’s smile was thankful, but also suspicious.
Phoebe shared those suspicions. She whispered to Owen, still standing beside her at the buffet, “What’s he playing at?”
“I expect we’re about to find out.”
Indeed, Julia apparently had had enough of waiting. “Phoebe tells me, Ernie, that you have a message for me. May I have it, please?”
Ernie took his time bringing a forkful of kippers and eggs to his mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed with a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple. “Oh, yes, I very nearly forgot. It’s not every day I get to indulge in such a breakfast, you know. Now, Mrs. Hartman, who does for me every day, is a wonderful cook, but I don’t get to enjoy such variety living alone, as I do, at my little cottage.”
Phoebe and Owen went to the table; she sat across from Julia and Ernie, and Owen chose a seat near the boys. He, no doubt, wanted to become acquainted with Trent. Meanwhile, Julia appeared at about the end of her patience, while Ernie seemed intent on prolonging his enjoyment of—whatever this was.
“Ernie, the message,” Phoebe shot across the table at him. She’d had quite enough of his equivocating.
“Yes, yes, quite right.” He turned to Julia, his smile triumphant. “Your grandmother wishes you to call her first thing this morning.”
“My grandmother?” Julia dropped her fork and exchanged alarmed looks with Phoebe, Amelia, and, farther down the table, Fox. “Is she all right? Is it about our grandfather? He isn’t ill again, is he?”
Phoebe might have voiced such worries as well, except that a question surfaced above the rest. “Wait a moment. If something happened at home, Grams would have telephoned us here. Why and when did you speak with her?”
“Last night.” Ernie bit into a slice of melon. “I telephoned over to Foxwood Hall.”
Julia’s mouth opened in shock, then closed, then opened again. “Why?”
“Because I suspected no one else had, and I thought she had a right to know her granddaughter had an emergency that required a doctor’s care.”
Julia pushed back her chair and came to her feet. “Ernie, you had no right. There was no reason to worry my grandparents. I’m perfectly fine. Dr. Wright said what I experienced is perfectly normal for a great number of expectant mothers. Why on earth would you interfere in this way?”
“Oh, it wasn’t just the medical emergency,” Ernie went on amiably, unperturbed by Julia’s admonishment. “It’s also the danger of there being a murderer on the loose.” He angled his gaze at Trent at the lower end of the table next to Fox. The boy noticed and colored to the roo
ts of his hair. “You’re all taking matters a bit too lightly, and, again, I thought for your own safety your grandparents should be apprised of the situation.”
“Julia’s not a child, you know.” Amelia’s features contorted in a rare moment of outrage.
“Nor are you the head of our family.” Fox pointed his fork at Ernie, a gesture that would have gotten him sent from the table at home. “In our grandfather’s absence, I am.”
“Amelia, Fox, never mind.” Julia had quickly recovered her poise. With a show of calm, she continued, “Ernie’s ploy is an obvious one. He wants me out of the house. Obviously, his solicitor failed to come up with any sound legal grounds to make that happen, so now he’s hoping Grams will order us home.” With one hand on her belly, she shrugged in her most nonchalant manner, going so far as to look bored by the entire matter. “I’ll go telephone her now and reassure her we’re all quite safe and will be home in a matter of another few days. I’ll simply explain that for now, Trent isn’t allowed to leave Langston, and we can’t simply abandon him.”
The boy looked astonished. “Th-thank you, Lady Annondale.”
“You’re Fox’s friend, after all. And you may call me Julia,” she told him. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me.”
It was all Phoebe could do not to follow Julia. She longed to listen in on the conversation with Grams, and wondered how on earth Julia would manage to set their grandmother’s mind to rest. If it were just Phoebe and Julia here, they might simply point out that they were both adults. But they had Fox and Amelia with them, and if Grams wished to press her point, they would have no choice but to pack up and start home. She could only hope Julia would manage to summon her most persuasive skills.
CHAPTER 17
Eva went up the back staircase, her arms piled high with freshly laundered shirtwaists, stockings, and underthings. Upon first arriving at Lyndale Park, she had gone belowstairs to inspect the laundry facilities, and had been horrified to see an electric, motor-driven washer sitting in a corner. One might as well hand one’s clothing over to a petulant child with a thread cutter. However, the laundress, a competent woman who apparently knew her business, had assured Eva she never used the contraption on anything but work clothes and the like, and certainly never on delicate, tailored ladies’ garments. In fact, she had raised vigorous objections to the machine when the former Lord Annondale had insisted on installing it, however much he had assured her it was the modern and more efficient method of washing clothes.
Eva would rather cut off the tip of her little finger than submit her ladies’ wardrobes to the vagaries of some machine. She herself still pretreated stains with borax and gentle brushes, and often hand-washed their delicates herself.
Her deception at Crown Lily had set her back on such chores, and there were still shoes to polish and coats to brush. Ladies Phoebe and Amelia had told her never mind, they could manage, but she found letting her duties go undone made her melancholy, as if it were proof her young mistresses no longer needed her.
Upon entering the bedroom shared by Phoebe and Amelia, she discovered only Phoebe occupied the room, sitting curled up on the settee with a book. Amelia, apparently, had gone out for a ride with Owen in his Runabout, a motorcar of which Eva thoroughly disapproved. Never mind that it had been built for speed, but three wheels—two in front and one in back? Insanity.
“What are you reading, my lady?” she asked as she opened drawers and began putting away clothes.
“A Study in Scarlet,” she replied without looking up.
“Again?” Eva smiled. Lady Phoebe had a penchant for detective stories.
“I thought it might help me think like Sherlock Holmes.”
“He’s a fictional character, my lady.”
“But the logic is there, isn’t it? There’s logic to everything, no matter how obscure it might seem. The trick is to find it. To connect the threads in just the right pattern.”
A knock at the door heralded Lady Annondale’s arrival. “Ernie is vanquished,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “Grams isn’t making us come home. It wasn’t easy convincing her, but I promised her none of us would set foot out of this house until the police apprehended the killer. And, yes, I know you’ll make a liar of me, Phoebe, because no one can keep you in one place for five minutes, so I crossed my fingers and hoped Grams didn’t put Grampapa on the line. You know how much harder it is to fib to him. But this gives the police a bit more time to completely clear Trent. I’m hoping once they do, we can arrange for him to return to school with Fox.”
Lady Phoebe laid her book aside. “Let’s hope so. Where are the boys, by the way? It’s awfully quiet around here.”
“I expect they’ve taken Jester for a run on the grounds.” Lady Annondale joined her on the settee, heaving out a breath as she carefully lowered herself onto the cushions. If Eva didn’t know better, she’d say Lady Annondale’s belly had grown since their arrival at Lyndale Park.
“Jester’s downstairs in the kitchen being fed,” Eva told them, “so the boys are not with him.” She felt a vague uneasiness. “Perhaps they’re in the library?”
Though only just settled, Julia pushed up from the settee in that odd way expectant ladies had, belly first. “More than likely they’re in Gil’s billiard room. I’ll go see. I want to make sure Trent knows we won’t be abandoning him.”
“It’s awfully good of you to take an interest in the boy, my lady.” Eva smiled as she hung the last item in the wardrobe.
“I’m considering . . .”
Phoebe cocked her head and gazed up expectantly at her sister. “Considering what?”
Julia only said, “I’ll go look for them.” She was almost out the door when she turned back to them. “By the way, some of Trent’s things from home were delivered earlier, did you see? I suggested he telephone over to his housekeeper last night and have her send anything he might need. Poor woman, she’ll be out of a job soon.”
“I heard the lorry,” Phoebe said, “but I thought it was supplies for the household. I’m glad, though. It will help him feel more at home.”
Julia nodded and left the room. In mere minutes she returned, not bothering to knock this time. “Phoebe, this may be nothing, but I can’t find them anywhere, and no one has seen them since this morning.”
“You know how boys have a penchant for disappearing,” Eva reminded her, though she once more experienced a sinking apprehension.
“That’s not all. I peeked into their room, and it looks as if it’s been ransacked.”
Lady Phoebe came to her feet, and both she and Eva were moving toward the door before another word was spoken. They hurried along the corridor together and turned in at Fox’s room.
“Good heavens, Julia, I wouldn’t say ransacked.” Lady Phoebe surveyed the scene before them.
Eva did, too, noting the room seemed no untidier than one would expect from two boys sharing a space. Despite the beds having been made, she could see they’d been sat on since, the coverlets wrinkled and the pillows indented. A few items of clothing hung over chair backs and a couple of drawers gaped an inch or two from not being pushed in all the way. What Lady Annondale referred to, Eva surmised, were the papers scattered on the rug near the fireplace, as if they’d been spread out to be perused.
Lady Phoebe sank on the hearth rug and began sweeping the papers into a neat pile.
“I’ll do that, my lady.” Eva went to crouch beside her.
Lady Annondale stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She reached up to finger the gold-and-opal necklace hanging down the front of her frock. “I find it concerning that they rustled through all that mess and are now nowhere to be found.”
“So do I.” Lady Phoebe sat back on her heels, papers in hand. Eva handed her the pages she’d scooped up, and Lady Phoebe began scanning them. “This appears to be random correspondence and documents that belonged to his father.”
“Why send them here?” Eva rose, and then offered her hand to help Lady Phoebe u
p. “Why not leave them at the Mercer house? What use could Trent make of them here? And who sent them?”
“Presumably, his housekeeper at home,” Lady Annondale said.
Lady Phoebe went to the foot of one of the beds and spread out the papers. “Honestly, there’s nothing here that appears to be of great importance. Nothing urgent . . .”
While she fanned through the pile, Eva glanced again around the room. A brown edge peeking out from beneath a chair near the fireplace caught her attention. “What’s this?” She bent to retrieve a large envelope. On her way back to Lady Phoebe, she peered inside. “Hmm. It’s empty.”
Lady Phoebe took it from her, holding it open with two hands. “Yes, it is. But what might have been in it?”
“Perhaps merely all those papers you two picked up off the floor,” Lady Annondale suggested. She came into the room and sat at the edge of the bed, facing Eva and her sister.
Lady Phoebe shook her head. “There’s too much here to have been able to fit inside that envelope.”
“Then whatever was inside, they took it with them,” Eva said, feeling suddenly inspired. “My guess is, it’s not what’s here that’s important, but what isn’t. What the boys have with them.”
“Have with them where?” Lady Annondale lifted a paper, glanced at it, and set it down.
“Crown Lily,” Lady Phoebe said. She held out the envelope and pointed to something on it that Eva hadn’t noticed before. They turned as one and headed for the corridor.
* * *
As the touring car passed beneath the Crown Lily sign, the guard at the gate once again recognized them and waved them in. Phoebe nonetheless told Douglas to stop and opened the window. “Have you seen two boys come through here?” she asked without preamble.
The man looked puzzled and shook his head. “Boys? No. Only the night workers are coming in now. But you’re welcome to enter, my lady. Here to see Mr. Tremaine about your order?”
With a nod she thanked him and told Douglas to drive on. Before leaving Lyndale Park, she and Eva had told Julia to let Owen know where they’d gone. Just in case. She would have preferred to wait for him to return from his ride with Amelia, but she had feared the boys might be walking into danger. Now, however, she wondered if she had made the right choice in returning to Crown Lily at all. Sitting back in the seat, she chewed her bottom lip.
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