The Earl and Countess exchanged a suppressed smile at the antics of their firstborn, and both were on the point of laughing. Merry giggled behind her hand. Ned did as he was told, loudly, and pushed out his bottom lip with a sly sideways smile at his little sister, proud to have made Beth squeal at the breakfast table. He went back to eating his egg.
“Uncle Salt, Cousin Caroline will never allow Peter to be moved from your anteroom. Everyone but you loves him!”
“There! You said it, Merry! My anteroom. Not Caroline’s anteroom. Mine,” the Earl retorted, pretending offence. He looked to his wife. “Did you hear that, my lady? I am beholden to a blue-feathered fiend whose screech can be heard as far away as-as—Bristol.”
“He only screeches at you, my love,” Jane replied mildly, a smile exchanged with Merry. She wiped her little daughter’s chubby cheeks and sticky fingers free of jam. “There! All clean, Beth!” she said with a wide-eyed smile and kissed the palm of her daughter’s chubby hand. She put a silver feeding cup of warm milk into her daughter’s little hands and looked round at the butler. “What is it, Miller?”
A liveried footman had trod up the length of the morning room, careful to avoid tripping over a discarded toy drum, an assortment of painted wooden pull-toys, and two silver whistles on corded ribbons, and spoke near the butler’s ear.
“The article in question, which has been the subject of a thorough search of all appropriate rooms, has still not been found, my lady,” the butler intoned to the Countess, without inflection but with a sidelong glance at Lord Salt’s heir.
“Thank you. Please tell Nanny the nursery maids are not to fret. It will appear somewhere. I am sure of it, and in the most unlikely of places, too.”
“Very good, my lady,” the butler replied, and with a nod, sent the footman off to the nursery with this directive before turning to another footman, silently in attendance, to have him replenish the silver urn with boiling water.
Salt set down his coffee cup on its saucer and looked across the table at his wife, after a glance at his eldest son, whose whole concentration had returned to dipping one leg of a bread soldier into the half shell of a soft-boiled egg as his father had shown him. Salt had cut the rectangular strips of bread half way up their centers to give the soldiers two legs, making it more difficult, and thus time consuming for an almost four-year-old, to dip one leg at a time into the soft yolk. Unlike most boys his age, once engaged in an activity, Ned showed a great capacity for sticking at a task, something of which his father was secretly very proud. This activity had added purpose: To keep his son’s mind from wandering to the inexplicable whereabouts of his favorite toy companion, Mr. Monkey Mischievous, known by the entire household simply as Monkey.
“No luck?” Salt asked Jane lightly.
“None.”
“Perhaps it is for the best that it remains l-o-s-t,” the Earl offered brightly. “Having your firstborn breeched and weaned of his t-o-y m-o-n-k-e-y five months before his fourth birthday is not such a bad thing, is it?”
Jane was not appeased, nor was she fooled.
“Teaching your son to paint breakfast soldiers with yellow egg trousers is all very well, but this state of affairs is not something to brag about at White’s, if that is what is meant by that grin. This is one wager you will lose. It is not such a bad thing if it happens naturally. Breeching was a necessity. He is far too active to be in skirts. But as to the other—” She stopped herself, shrugged a shoulder and smiled at her husband’s hopeful grin. “When you look at me in that way I know I am being far too serious for my own good! Admit to it. You like breakfast soldiers as much as Ned!”
“Ah! My secret is out! Ned,” he added in a whisper at his son’s ear, “Mamma knows my secret.” And to the Countess, “They are excellent bread soldiers, you will admit.”
Jane smiled. “Yes. Most excellent bread soldiers, my lord.”
“See, Ned! Mamma agrees,” Salt said with a wink at his wife and pretended to steal one of the fingers of bread from his son’s plate.
“No, Papa! They are my soldiers. You must make more soldiers, p—lease.”
“I know where Monkey is,” Merry offered.
Ned’s head snapped up and he wiped away the blond ringlets falling into his brown eyes, eyes that were suddenly very round with interest. “Monkey? Does Merry know where Monkey is hiding?”
“Monffey! Monffey!” Beth called out from her highchair, watching her brother jump up and down on his seat.
“Monkey! Monkey!” Ned chanted in reply, losing all interest in bread soldiers dipped in warm runny egg yolk.
The Earl and Countess shared a moment of collective eye rolling before glancing at Merry and having the same thought: They had forgotten a twelve-year-old was more than capable of knowing the words the couple spelled out in front of their young children.
“Ned will be very grateful to know you have Monkey safe and sound.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jane, I don’t have Monkey,” Merry apologized. “I just know Monkey’s whereabouts.”
“You would be doing my entire household a great service, Merry, by revealing where Monkey has run off to,” the Earl said, holding to the back of his son’s fine linen shirt to stop him toppling off his cushion. “And before Ned manages to snap a chair leg.”
“Mamma has Monkey,” Merry said matter-of-factly, picking up her porcelain mug to finish off the last drops of her hot chocolate. When the Earl and Countess exchanged a startled glance and then stared at her mute, she added simply, “I saw her take him from Ned’s bed last night, and put him under her cloak.” She frowned, head to one side. “So if I saw Mamma take Monkey… I remember particularly she was wearing a red cloak… And Monkey is missing… Does that mean I wasn’t dreaming…? Oh, Aunt Jane! You’ve spilled your tea!”
The very idea that Diana St. John had somehow managed to enter her house, worse, been to the nursery and in her children’s bedroom, had Jane trembling with dread and she lost the grip on her teacup. It couldn’t be true. Surely, Merry had dreamed her mother’s trespass? But if Monkey was missing, and Merry had seen the beloved toy in Diana’s possession…
The teacup bounced and shattered at the Countess’s feet, sending shards of porcelain under the mahogany breakfast table, and splashing tea to stain the hem of her pink silk day gown and matching silk shoes.
Merry’s bad dream had become Jane’s nightmare.
NOT FIVE MINUTES LATER, just after Merry was fetched away by Kitty to help sort through a trunk full of old masks to find suitable ones for her and Lady Reanay to wear to the masquerade, Sir Antony poked his head into the breakfast room.
“Good morning, Salt Hendon family!” Sir Antony said with false cheeriness. “Please excuse the intrusion. I need a word with one of your nursery maids—wears a frilly cap with an overlarge flapping brim. Without delay, if you please.”
TWENTY-TWO
SOME TWO HOURS EARLIER, Sir Antony was shaving by the light streaming through his dressing room window. A footman tilted a gilt-framed hand mirror at just the right angle and height to allow maximum light to illuminate the stubble growth to his master’s chin and jaw. A second footman held a blue and white patterned porcelain bowl full of hot soapy water into which Sir Antony dipped his sharpened blade free of lather. He was in his stockinged feet and buff breeches, bare back presented to the room. The rest of his ensemble lay across the upholstered chaise where he had passed a restless night. The morning’s chosen silk frock coat hung on a peg. The day’s wig was dressed and waiting on its porcelain wig stand at one end of the dressing table. Here Semper was rearranging items from his master’s tortoiseshell and silver shaving box so he could set out the buckles required for breeches, stock and shoes, as well as the requisite accoutrements for his master’s pockets: Gold watch, fobs, tortoiseshell etui and enameled snuffbox.
Rinsing the shaving blade, Sir Antony said over his shoulder, a jerk of his bare head towards the bedchamber, “Lady Caroline got away this morning…?”
“Semper… Semper, I—”
“There is no need to explain, my lord,” the majordomo interrupted hastily, unnecessarily fiddling with the arrangement of tortoiseshell combs in the shaving box. “Her ladyship spent the entire night in your bedchamber, alone, while you slept on the sofa in here.”
“Is that what her ladyship told you, or is that what you believed happened, or is that your response to the below-stairs gossip?”
The majordomo looked affronted.
“I beg your pardon, my lord. I thought, as a gentleman—”
“Yes. Yes, Semper, you thought correctly! That was unfair on you. I apologize. Put it down to lack of sleep. Still, lack of sleep gave me time to ponder the future. You will be delighted to know that when this horrid business regarding the Lady St. John is done, the Lady Caroline and I will immediately marry, and spend our honeymoon in Ireland. I won’t impose on your own visit to Mrs. Semper’s sister, but it would make sense for us to travel across together. I have a second cousin in County Wicklow. Lives in a massive stone pile with acres of topiary dotted with statuary. Owns the local landmark, a waterfall. He’s presently Governor of Virginia, or is it Maryland? Point is, he’s not there and the estate is. We’ll take the Russians and an assortment of household staff and the various domesticated animals her ladyship can’t leave behind or she’d spend the entire time fretting for their welfare. When you’ve done visiting relations in Dublin you and Mrs. Semper must join us there.”
Semper made Sir Antony a quaint little bow of the head.
“Thank you, my lord. On behalf of Mrs. Semper and myself, may I wish you all the happiness in the world. Mrs. Semper will be doubly delighted.”
When he next rinsed the shaving blade in the porcelain bowl, Sir Antony said, “Thank you, Semper. Why will Mrs. Semper be doubly delighted?”
“Mrs. Semper had the privilege of being introduced when her ladyship collected the pug puppy. If I may say so, they got on famously. If not for the necessity of her ladyship returning to Grosvenor Square, they would’ve conversed till breakfast.”
“Ah. You must thank Mrs. Semper for taking care of Boots for the night.”
“It was no bother, my lord. In fact,” the majordomo added with an unconscious sigh, “Mrs. Semper took a great liking to the puppy—a very great liking… The thing of it is, my lord… Of course, I stressed to Mrs. Semper that I would seek your lordship’s permission…”
Sir Antony turned his right cheek to the sunlight and skillfully shaved his heavy jaw free of stubble. “Permission for what, Semper?”
“However, I’m afraid your permission may be just a formality when all is said and done,” Semper apologized. “Lady Caroline and Mrs. Semper have arrangements in place that I dare not interfere.” He grinned sheepishly. “Marriage gives a man another perspective.”
“I am certain it must,” Sir Antony replied, carefully shaving one sideburn and then the other. He patted dry his clean-shaven face with a towel and turned to his majordomo, waving away the two attending footmen. “These arrangements…?”
Semper carefully set aside the shaving blade. It would need sharpening before returning to the shaving case. He fetched Sir Antony’s fine linen shirt, saying evenly, “Mrs. Semper and I have become the proud parents of a pug puppy, brother of one Boots. Name to be decided upon delivery, my lord. That is, if your lordship will permit the adoption and doesn’t mind the interference of a pug below stairs…”
A deep chuckle came from within the shirt as Sir Antony threw it over his head. Tucking the voluminous folds into his breeches, he was still chuckling and shaking his head as he buttoned up his falls. “Not five minutes in my house and the minx is setting up a menagerie!”
“I did warn Mrs. Semper the arrangement was wholly dependent on your lordship’s approval, and not to get her hopes up.”
“I would never dare to presume to call Mrs. Semper a minx,” Sir Antony interrupted quietly, buttoning his shirt, all laughter subsided.
Semper’s eyes widened and he stuttered. “Of course—of course not, my lord!”
He handed his lordship his cravat to arrange to his satisfaction.
“Have you decided on a suitable costume for the masquerade ball, my lord? There is the costume you wore to Prince Ivan’s Bacchanalian Revels? The frock coat in puce embroidered with grape vine, with the—”
“I have. I will attend this masquerade ball as something far more exotic,” Sir Antony informed him. “I have a frock coat with matching waistcoat and breeches of blue silk with gold buttons and heavy gold trim to buttonholes, cuffs and white lapels, such as military types parade about in when wanting to show off. You remember it, Semper? I can’t recall why I decided it would suit me…” He shook his head, adding with a grin, “But I do believe such a striking ensemble is just the thing to complement the lovely red sash and Imperial Cross I will receive earlier that morning in the presence of His Majesty.”
“Is there a particular military personage from the pages of history you wish to impersonate at this ball, my lord?”
Sir Antony pulled a face
“Military personage? Hardly. Besides, Lady Caroline is not interested in people, Semper. I’m going as me. Well, me as a bird, a feathered fiend, in fact. Big, blue and golden…” Sir Antony reflected for a moment. “Sad eyes…” Then roused to say with a smile, “His name is Peter, Peter the Macaw, and my outfit will be as splendid as his feathers!”
Semper sensed Sir Antony thought his costume a very clever idea indeed, so he controlled his features and said in all seriousness, “Then may I suggest a feathered mask appropriate, my lord?”
“Feathered? Perfect! White and black should do nicely. As to this puppy… You’ve probably gathered from your conversation with Mrs. Semper, her ladyship’s primary concern is the welfare of domesticated animals, hers and others. Your adoption of one of Lady Caroline’s pug puppies, if it is truly what you and Mrs. Semper desire, and you have not been overly persuaded into this adoption by her ladyship—”
“No, my lord! Never. Mrs. Semper is very keen to take on the rearing of a puppy, and as Mrs. Semper’s happiness is paramount… I was left uneasy, however, as to the introduction of this animal into your lordship’s household…”
“Good gracious, Semper!” Sir Antony replied good-naturedly. “One small puppy will not make a speck of dust difference to my household once I am married and inherit Lady Caroline’s menagerie as my own. Which brings me to something else I pondered while wide-awake at three in the morning. Once I am married there will be a great many changes to this household—so many, in fact, that you will no longer be capable of juggling the dual roles of valet and majordomo. So what I propose is that you confine yourself to the tasks of running my considerably expanded household as its majordomo, with suitable remuneration, naturally.”
“Thank you, my lord. That is very generous of you. Mrs. Semper will be pleased.”
“She’ll be ecstatic when you also inform her the position comes with its own apartment in the south wing. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to take possession until Lady St. John and her conniving female companion have vacated the premises.” Sir Antony sighed as he plucked at the folds of his cravat. “That, God willing, is only days away… One of the Russians can be trained up to be my valet. I want you to decide a suitable replacement as soon as possible and make a start on showing him what’s what so he can accompany us into Wicklow.”
“Nikolas, my lord,” Semper said without hesitation. “Nikolas would be the most suitable of the Russians. And again, thank you, my lord, for the consideration.”
“You’re very welcome, Semper.” S
ir Antony sat at his dressing table to have his wig fitted and looked at his majordomo’s reflection, “Now to the more tiresome but necessary business at hand. Tell me what Mr. T relayed to you this morning…”
Semper enlightened Sir Antony about his early-morning conversation with the thief-taker Mr. T and the comings and goings of Lady St. John and her party of the day before. All seemed mundane and in order until Semper mentioned a peculiar late-night occurrence involving the Lady Caroline’s sedan chair, adding with a frown,
“It was not Mr. T’s night watch who informed me of this strange event, but Randal the porter. It seems her ladyship’s sedan chair made a quite separate journey to and from this house, without her ladyship.”
“The chairmen took an empty sedan chair somewhere then returned here? What the devil for? Are they taking coin on the side; hackney chairmen in secret?”
“As to that, my lord, I could not say. It was rather odd, to say the least, except when I tell you that the sedan chair was not empty. I believe the chairmen thought they were conveying the Lady Caroline to and fro…”
Sir Antony waved a hand and Semper stepped back from tying the black bow of his master’s wig. Sir Antony swiveling on the dressing stool to face his majordomo.
“Believed? Who was it in the sedan chair?”
“Lady St. John, my lord. She was able to dupe the chairmen because she wore a red cloak similar to that owned by Lady Caroline.”
“Where was she off to? No! Don’t answer that. I can guess.”
“I do not know for what purpose, but I do know her ladyship returned here within an hour; so Randal informed me.”
“My porter seems to know a good deal about her ladyship’s comings and goings,” Sir Antony mused, eyes narrowed. “Is he, too, employed by Mr. T?”
“No, my lord. I thought as you do, and also wondered how Lady St. John knew the Lady Caroline had come to call at such a late hour and what she was wearing.”
“Get rid of the fellow! He’s obviously hedging his bets, running tales between Lady St. John and your good self.”
Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03 Page 63