by Kate Archer
“Most improbable,” Lord Dalton said. “I am still trying to work it out.”
“There is nothing under the sun that is not made probable by affection,” Mrs. Jellops said.
This idea seemed to strike the party strongly, as all looked in different directions. Daisy looked over Lord Dalton’s head, Lord Dalton stared at the window behind her, Miss Minkerton peered into her soup, and Lord Burke gazed at the picture on the far wall.
It was only Mrs. Jellops who seemed to find her idea at all comfortable. “Well then,” she said, “there is the solution. Daisy will write to Lady Grayson.”
When they had retired to the drawing room, Miss Minkerton played the pianoforte while Lord Burke turned the pages for her. As Daisy wrote her letter to Kitty, now Lady Grayson, about the mysterious Dagobert, she paused from time to time to glance at the couple. She was not so sure that Miss Minkerton was entirely correct in her assumptions—Lord Burke seemed as any man paying his attentions to a lady in a drawing room, and so perhaps he did not view her as a sister after all.
As for Lord Dalton, Daisy did not detect any jealousy on his part by Lord Burke’s attentions to Miss Minkerton; he was far too busy telling her of this thing or that thing that she must include in her letter.
That circumstance could not say anything conclusive, though. Lord Dalton was not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, if he had such a heart to wear. If he suspected Miss Minkerton’s feelings lay elsewhere and was affected by it, he would never reveal it.
Before she could finish her letter, there was a sound heard, growing louder, of a carriage barreling down the drive. Miss Minkerton’s carriage stood outside, so it could not be hers. Whoever it was, they came at a furious pace.
Lord Dalton and Lord Burke looked at each other. Lord Burke left Miss Minkerton at the instrument.
“My pistols are in the cottage,” Lord Dalton said.
“Mine in the carriage,” Lord Burke said.
“We are idiots,” Lord Dalton said.
Both men looked round the room as the sound grew ever louder. Their eyes both settled on the fire pokers and they grabbed one each.
Miss Minkerton had stopped her playing and rose in alarm. “What is it?” she asked, just then becoming cognizant of the approaching hoofbeats.
“We ought to go above stairs,” Mrs. Jellops said, her face gone white.
“There’s no time,” Lord Dalton said, “lock the doors behind us.”
Daisy hurried to the doors as the men strode out to the hall. As she locked them, with a rather flimsy lock, she thought, she heard Lord Dalton say to Bellamy, “Stand aside, we’ll answer it.”
Mrs. Jellops and Miss Minkerton had moved to the very back of the drawing room. Daisy thought she ought to do the same, but she must know—was it Lieutenant Farthmore returning? Was it someone else? Was it the same person who’d broken into the house?
She pulled the curtain aside just in time to see a coach clatter to a stop. It was as well-made as any she had seen and had a coat of arms on the door, though she could not see the details in the darkness, only the glinting of gold paint.
A finely-dressed servant leapt out of the carriage and said, “A communication for Miss Danworth, daughter of the late Lord Childress, and Charles Battersea, Earl of Dalton, from His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent.”
“What?” Lord Dalton said from the front steps. Daisy pressed her cheek against the window to get a better view and saw that he stood there with Lord Burke, both of them with fire pokers raised.
The servant, who appeared slightly bored, as if he’d seen everything in his career and two lords threatening him with fire pokers was hardly enough to discompose him, repeated, “A communication for Miss Danworth, daughter of the late Lord Childress, and Charles Battersea, Earl of Dalton, from His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent.”
“Good God, man,” Lord Dalton said, lowering his weapon, “why are you coming up the drive as if the hounds of hell were on your heels?”
“I am in a hurry, my lord, as I usually am,” the man said with aspersion. “Will you take the invitation? I have more stops to make.”
“Invitation?” Lord Dalton went down the steps and took the paper from the man’s hands. The fellow bowed, hopped back in the carriage, and rapped on the roof. They were off as fast as they had come.
Daisy hurried to unlock the doors and Lord Dalton and Lord Burke came back in. Lord Dalton had unfolded the paper, which in fact was two papers. He folded it back up and said, “Good Lord,” before handing it to Daisy.
The first was addressed to both she and Lord Dalton and was a formal invitation to an assembly at Ramsgate for Tuesday next. The second was a handwritten note to Daisy. She read it as Mrs. Jellops peered over her shoulder.
Dear Miss Danworth – I am well aware you are meant to be in mourning, however, the more one knew Lord Childress, the less one actually mourns him. As I am to be in this town for a week to survey the harbor and give my considered opinion, which of course would take a quarter hour but for the ceremonial displays I must also witness, I require amusements of my own making. Do attend my assembly and blast whoever says you ought to be at home weeping—I cannot abide false sadness. Bring your lady companion if you like—if I remember rightly, she is a jolly enough personage.
Daisy showed the note to Miss Minkerton and Lord Burke. Miss Minkerton said, “Goodness, that is a familiar sort of sentiment.”
Daisy smiled. “I have met the prince on a few occasions, on the last he told me he found me charming because I was not overawed by him.”
“His mistake was in thinking Miss Danworth is overawed by anybody,” Lord Dalton said.
“But shall you go?” Miss Minkerton asked.
“I suppose I must,” Daisy said, “as he’s added the personal note.”
“He may not be the cleverest soul alive,” Mrs. Jellops said, “but he read Lord Childress right enough. Though, am I jolly? I suppose I can be on occasion. Well, it’s nice to be remembered.”
“You must tell me all about it,” Miss Minkerton said. “Who was there, what they wore, what did the prince say to you…”
“I suspect you’ll receive your own invitation,” Daisy said, “I doubt the prince will care if you were out a few months ago or coming out a few months from now. Ramsgate is a small society and he will leave no stone unturned.”
“I should not know what to say,” Miss Minkerton said.
“Do not fear that particular problem, Miss Minkerton,” Lord Dalton said drily, “he will do all the talking. Just pretend at deep interest while he tells you of the building of his pavilion, which never seems to end.”
Miss Minkerton looked to Lord Burke and he nodded reluctantly, as if to indicate that it was entirely true, though he was loath to admit it.
Behind Lord Burke, Daisy saw a shadow move past the window. She clutched at Lord Dalton’s sleeve.
“It is only a watchman,” he said quietly.
She let go and felt herself a fool. Of course it was a watchman—they had been ordered to prowl the perimeter around the house. Still, she was grateful that the lord would be back in the cottage and Mrs. Broadbent would continue her reign in the bedchamber next door.
News of an assembly held by the Prince of Wales did nothing to solve the mystery of who had broken into the house, what they were looking for, or if they would try again. There was also no explanation for why Lord Dalton was convinced he’d been pulled under water. She could only hope that dear Kitty could shed some light on what on earth a Dagobert was.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mrs. Jellops had fallen asleep as soon as her head had touched her pillow, that lady perhaps taking two extra glasses of Madeira to settle her nerves after the excitement of hooves clattering on the drive and the gentlemen going out to meet the danger only armed with fire pokers.
Daisy was not tired, though. She blew out the candle and curled up on the window seat, allowing the night breeze to cool her. Lord Dalton’s cottage was well lit, Bellamy
no doubt making free with baskets of candles for his use. The lord was not in the cottage, though. He was out of doors, sitting on the bench that seemed to be his usual place, his dark outline illuminated by the light shining through his windows.
He held a glass and Daisy assumed it was from the brandy decanter that had gone missing from the library. She had at first wondered if it had been Bellamy and the footmen who’d made off with it, but discarded the idea when she considered that Mrs. Broadbent was all-seeing and all-knowing. She would have noted it and given them the what for.
She did not begrudge Lord Dalton his brandy, or the other things his butler and valet had swiped from the house. She was more amused than anything, sometimes seeing one of them furtively cross the lawn with something under his arm.
Daisy bit her lip as she watched a thin and scraggly-looking tabby cat hop up on the bench and Lord Dalton pat its head. It appeared a rangy creature and no doubt riddled with fleas. She had not been entirely sure that news of the cat had been real. She had begun to think it might have only been Mrs. Broadbent amusing herself at Mr. Deer’s expense.
She could not help thinking what would have happened to the creature if her father was still in residence. He would have ordered it poisoned or grabbed it by the tail and swung it over the garden wall. He had always been cruel toward animals, even his own, and Daisy had early come to the conclusion that it was a hallmark of a bad nature.
Long ago, when she’d been eight or so, she had been out for a walk with a maid when she encountered her father on the road, speaking to the Duke of Somerston. In an attempt to appear the indulgent father, he’d reminded her that he’d said she could buy herself a puppy. He’d never said it and she never did—she was too afraid of what might happen to any poor creature she dared bring into the house.
The cat made itself at home on Lord Dalton’s lap. Daisy peered down, certain the lord would instantly shoo the creature off.
He did not. He only patted its head again.
How strange.
Lord Dalton rose, and rather than the cat falling to the ground as she would expect, he swept it up under one arm and carried it into the cottage.
Daisy leaned back and sighed. He certainly was an enigmatic sort of person. What kind of gentleman went about so grim and then was kind to a cat? A rather unpleasant-looking cat, as far as she could tell.
Enigmatic he might be, but she felt safer that Lord Dalton was there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next days passed quietly. Nobody had any idea of who or what Dagobert might be, and only waited to discover if Lady Grayson would write to shed some light on it. Nobody knew what the purpose of the break-in had been, or if it would be tried again. Nobody was much interested in sea bathing after Lord Dalton’s misadventure.
Daisy did not mind how quietly they went on. It became a habit for Lord Burke and Miss Minkerton to arrive in the afternoon and for them all to gather in the garden. A large wood table had been set up with chairs round it and a tea was served. Were the breeze insufficient or coming off the land, Mrs. Broadbent would march out carrying one of her own inventions. She had made a series of basket frames and covered them with netting to sit over the cakes and biscuits to protect them from flies and bees.
These contraptions were enormously effective, and only overthrown occasionally by the cat when nobody was looking. The cat’s nature, as far as Daisy could divine it, was bold and inscrutable. It would use a claw to flick over a net basket, swipe at whatever was found there, knock it to the ground, examine it, and then stroll off if it was not deemed suitably tempting. It appeared to have a fondness for ham and an abhorrence of cucumber.
The cat was not interested in any other person aside from Lord Dalton, and sometimes Daisy laughed as she watched the incorrigible feline follow him when he walked the paths. If he chose to notice her stalking, she promptly dove into the shrubbery.
The garden itself was well laid out for opportunities to walk round it and have a private conversation, and yet remain under Mrs. Jellops’ watchful gaze. At least, watchful when the lady’s eyes were actually open.
Which they were very often not. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance seemed to lull Mrs. Jellops to sleep with regularity.
Daisy was determined to help Miss Minkerton in her effort to alert Lord Burke that she was in no way his sister, and she sent them off whenever she found the opportunity, usually to examine a particular flower in bloom in some far corner. She did not know if her suggestions were having any effect, but both parties seemed eager enough to follow them.
Just now, Miss Minkerton and Lord Burke were engrossed in examining a patch of recently bloomed sea pink. There was nothing at all extraordinary about it, though the couple appeared to be having an animated conversation nonetheless.
Lord Dalton sat at the table, his ever-present feline companion asleep under his chair. Mrs. Jellops had joined the cat in that activity and was gently snoring from a settee that had been carried out for her convenience.
“If you do not wish to attend the prince’s assembly,” Lord Dalton said, “I can easily make your excuses.”
“Why should I not wish to?” Daisy asked. The fact was, since she’d been thinking about it, she did wish to attend. The distraction would do her good and she did always find the prince’s parties amusing. At least, those were the reasons she attempted to convince herself of. There were perhaps other reasons that it did not suit to examine so closely. She had always enjoyed dancing with Lord Dalton and she would much rather be doing that than staying home alone with Mrs. Jellops, wondering if someone might break into the house while her protector was out frittering the night away with the regent.
“I only say, there might be talk because you are in mourning. The prince may not condemn it, but others might.”
“And what can disapproving talk do to me?” Daisy asked. As she asked it, she realized that she was indeed past the time when talk could do much of anything. After all, what did gossip ever do but ruin a lady’s chances of marriage or cause invitations to dry up? She was in no need of either of those two things.
It was a cheering idea, really. The ton no longer held any power over her.
Lord Dalton had only nodded and said, “I have hired a few more men for that evening in particular. If someone is intent on returning, they might choose the evening when we are likely not at home.”
“Excellent idea,” Daisy said.
“Why do you send them away so often?” Lord Dalton said, nodding toward Miss Minkerton and Lord Burke.
Daisy had not realized the habit had been noted. She supposed she ought to have known. While she was all for Miss Minkerton communicating her real feelings to Lord Burke, she had somehow managed to forget that Lord Dalton might have his own feelings for Miss Minkerton to contend with.
“Would you rather I did not send her away?” she asked, though she was not certain she wished to hear the answer.
“Her?” Lord Dalton asked, seeming confused. “I was rather thinking of him.”
“Him?” Daisy asked, completely lost.
Lord Dalton did not immediately answer. He played with a biscuit, crumbling it onto a saucer. “I suppose it’s too soon, in any event.”
“Soon for what?” Daisy asked.
Mrs. Jellops suddenly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Soon? Are we late?”
“Not at all,” Lord Dalton said, rising. He walked away with the cat at his heels.
What had he meant by it? Why would he wonder about Lord Burke being sent away?
Daisy did not know, but could not ignore that she was rather happy that he did not seem to mind finding Miss Minkerton sent away.
Chapter Ten
Daisy had debated what she would wear to the regent’s assembly. She was most inclined to choose the pale blue crepe silk that had been so skillfully made by the London modiste. Intricate patterns of periwinkle flowers had been embroidered across the whole and it had a cheerful summer feel to it. However, she also knew perfectly wel
l that particular dress was more suited to one coming out of mourning, so little did it hint of sadness. In the end, she reminded herself that she was not at all afraid of talk and put on the dress.
The assembly rooms were by the harbor and while Daisy had passed the building many times on her way to a shop, she had never been inside. She did not know if her father had regularly attended the assemblies, particularly since the building was rumored to have a billiard room, but he had never escorted her there.
Lord Dalton, though he was usually inclined to be on horseback, had ridden in the carriage with them. As Mrs. Jellops unobtrusively picked a cat hair from the edge of his coat, he said, “I suppose it would be best if I took supper.”
Daisy knew perfectly well that he meant he ought to put himself down for her supper, and was rather thrilled by it, but somehow ended saying, “It is usually best that people take supper.”
Mrs. Jellops, delightfully oblivious, said, “Even if you are not inclined to it, you ought to pretend you are. The prince is very fond of his food and won’t like to see you starve if he’s arranged something.”
“Miss Danworth understands me, I think,” Lord Dalton said. “It will be proper that I take the lady’s supper as I am her guardian. It would not be seemly for her to dine with some unknown gentleman at this moment in her history.”
“Would it not?” Daisy said.
“Well, I see what you say, Lord Dalton,” Mrs. Jellops said. “But then, Lord Burke is well known by us so I suppose he would do just as well.”
“No,” Daisy and Lord Dalton said at the same time.
They both looked to opposite sides of the carriage.
“Ah,” Mrs. Jellops said, gazing out the window at the passing scenery, “I understand you. Lord Burke will be set on taking Miss Minkerton in. He seems fond of the lady.”
“Yes, of course,” Daisy said hurriedly. “He does seem fond of Miss Minkerton.”
“Does that bother you?” Lord Dalton asked, staring at Daisy.