The Hummingbird Dagger

by Cindy Anstey

  James sat back in his chair with relief. “I think you are not the only one around here with an overactive imagination. Mr. Hodges is likely awaiting a pile of laundry.”

  Walter’s face fell momentarily and then brightened again. “Do you think it’s a French spy?”

  “Really, Walter.” Caroline shook her head. “Where do you get these ideas? James is right; this is a great deal of fuss for something that will turn out to be rubbish. Spies simply do not wash into Torrin Harbor. They have better things to do.” She tried to stifle a yawn.

  “A wrecker or a convict who jumped ship. Yes, that’s it, he was being transported to Australia,” Walter continued.

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “The best way to end this unsavory speculation is to deprive you of an audience. As it has been a long day and I am entirely wilted, I shall turn in.” She rose and wished everyone a good night.

  Although not as eager to bring the evening to a close, James rose as well, followed by Beth. In silence they paraded through the hall and up the stairs.

  Just as they were about to separate, James turned to Beth. He wanted to say something of comfort, something to ease her mind. Walter’s wild speculation would likely add to Beth’s troubled nightmares. But somehow the look in her eyes blocked the connection between his mouth and his brain. He couldn’t think of anything useful to say. Instead, he gently took her hand and kissed her fingers. He bowed to Caroline and continued to his room.

  * * *

  BETH STARED AT her hand for a few moments, enjoying the residual warmth and tingle of Lord Ellerby’s touch. Reluctantly she dropped it to her side. When she looked up again, she met Caroline’s puzzled eyes.

  Lord Ellerby’s action begged to be explained, but what was Beth to say? As much as she appreciated the gesture, she did not understand it; certainly, not any more than his sister, who had known him for all her eighteen years. Wordlessly she smiled and disappeared around the corner to her room.

  For the first night since awakening in Hardwick Manor, Beth did not dream. No shadows or fears came to her in the night. Perhaps it was the congenial evening and two glasses of ratafia. Or, could it have been the distracting heat that she felt as James bent and placed his lips tenderly on her hand?

  * * *

  “HE HAS BEEN to the colonies as well as all the islands in the West Indies, a regular out-an’-outer.”

  Walter had surprised one and all when he had arrived to breakfast with the rest of the family. Seated next to Beth, leaning in toward her, he was waxing on—as promised—of his evening at Risely.

  Mrs. Thompson’s brother had captured most of his attention, and therefore all his conversation. “He owns one of the largest sugar plantations in Jamaica, has a letter of marque, and three large privateer ships. He took a liking to me, and asked me to visit. With Henry, of course.”

  James tensed and frowned above his paper at Caroline, who, like him, bristled with indignation.

  “Privateers are pirates, Walter,” Caroline said. “To talk of them with such careless admiration is unworthy of you. They steal, plunder, and kill under state license. The letter of marque is nothing more than villainy. It needs to be stopped.” She sat straight and ridged, her eyes spitting fire. “Your brother will be joining the parliamentary debate against this practice. The only acceptable dialogue of piracy under this roof is that of its vile nature and how to rid the world of its scourge.” Turning away from Walter as if she could not bear to look at him, Caroline locked her eyes on a spot halfway up the wall.

  Looking confused and then contrite, Walter stared at his plate for a moment. “Sorry, Caroline. You are right. I … I forgot myself.”

  “You certainly did,” she snapped, still staring at the wall.

  Having all but finished the Times, James took a glance at the social page. He blinked and drew a quick breath, rereading a remark partway down the page.

  It should be noted that Pamela Barlow, youngest daughter of Sir Desmond Barlow, has been conspicuously absent these past weeks. She neither appeared at Lady Dalruin’s ball in her honor, nor the Lydenne Assembly three days prior. Is Miss Barlow already tiring of the social set, having only just entered it?

  “Caroline,” James called down the table in a tone that was not meant to alarm. It did not distract, either. “Caroline,” he said a little firmer. Still there was no reaction.

  With measured impatience, he folded the paper, the article still visible. He rose with his cup and dropped the newspaper beside Caroline’s empty plate as he made his way to the sideboard. He poured his tea, motioned to Robert to clear, and returned to his seat. Caroline was staring at him by the time he had placed his serviette back on his lap.

  James nodded his head when Caroline surreptitiously motioned to Beth, but shook it in negation when she indicated Walter. They would wait for Walter’s departure before speaking of the matter.

  However, Walter still had to finish his account and his breakfast. When it looked as if his brother was going to retell all his stories again, James interrupted. “Walter, I have a job for you.” The argument in the boy’s eyes forced James to alter the request, giving the task a twist. One that James knew would draw Walter out. “To help Beth.”

  Beth blinked at him in puzzlement.

  “We were discussing Beth’s arrival yesterday and I realized that while there were no clues of her identity in the trunk that we returned to Exeter, there might be of her fellow passenger. That gentleman,” James said the word awkwardly, “might know more. We need to take another look at his trunk. Perhaps in finding him, we will learn more of Beth. The bag will still be unclaimed in Exeter.”

  Walter’s face brightened. “I’ll fetch it without delay.” He straightened his back and pushed his chair away from the table. “Well, perhaps a slight delay. Thought I’d drop in on Mr. Hodges to ask after the laundry in the bay.”

  Walter glanced at Beth, misinterpreting her frown. “Do not be concerned, I’ll have the trunk back by tea.” Squaring his shoulders, Walter lifted his chin and marched from the room, giving all the impression that he would don a shining suit of armor and leap atop a white stallion to complete his noble quest—had they been available.

  “Was it necessary to send Walter off on a goose chase?” Beth asked as soon as Walter had quitted the room.

  “Not really a goose chase, Beth. There may be clues in that trunk.” Caroline passed the folded paper to Beth and pointed to the small paragraph. “But this is what we wished to discuss.”

  Beth read it quickly, glanced at her companions, then back to the paper and read it again. “Is that me?” she finally asked. “The name is not familiar.”

  “I do not know the Barlows.” Caroline switched to Walter’s seat. “It might have nothing to do with you or—”

  “Everything,” James completed the sentence for her.

  “But I am left with more questions.” Beth’s voice rose slightly in timbre. “Why would the daughter of Sir Barlow be traveling alone in a soiled dress in a hired coach? If, as we speculated, I was taking flight from an uncomfortable situation, from whom was I running? Sir Barlow?” She rose and walked to the window, then back to where Caroline and James still sat. “And if I was trying to flee, do I want to dance up to the front door and ask after myself? I could be returning to the very plight from which I escaped.” Beth plunked back into her seat. “What am I to do?”

  “We, my friend, we.” Caroline patted Beth’s hand. “We need not rush into anything. We will start with a few tactful inquiries. Our best avenue would be to find a friend of the family or even an acquaintance, someone who would be able to describe the girl.” Caroline took Beth by the shoulders and firmly but gently turned her so that they were looking eye-to-eye. “Beth, don’t worry. No matter what we discover, whatever it is, you do not have to leave us unless you want to. I will only lose you to a happier situation. Nothing less will do. Do you understand? Nothing less.”

  Beth nodded without conviction.

  James rose and aft
er giving Beth a baffling smile—lifted lips with a puckered brow—he patted the still-seated Caroline on the shoulder. “I’m afraid that those inquiries will have to be yours, Caroline. If I were to ask about the Barlows’ daughter, it would cause a great commotion. Speculation and rumor would be rife.” He bowed deeply and left the young ladies to their discussion.

  Caroline wrung the bell and sent Meighan, her lady’s maid, up to her apartment for writing implements. She pulled a straight-backed chair from the corner and placed it in front of the delicate desk that sat before the low windows. The view was that of the lush greenness in the conservatory.

  In no time at all, Meighan returned and Caroline busily scratched out her letter. “I think just one or two inquiries would be best,” she said as she wrote. “Although it will seem an eternity for the response. We simply have to be patient.”

  Beth took up some needlework while Caroline pondered her wording; a gentle tap on the door interrupted them both.

  “Yes, Robert.”

  “Mrs. Thompson wants to know if you’re home to callers, Miss Ellerby.”

  Caroline blinked in surprise. The early hour of the call presumed a nonexistent familiarity. Still, one had to make allowances for one’s neighbors’ peculiarities. “Of course we are. Please, show Mrs. Thompson in.”

  As the footman turned to deliver his message, Caroline motioned to Beth and whispered, “I was afraid that our trip to town might promote a visit. I do apologize for Mrs. Thompson, but there is no harm in her.”

  With those words, the door opened again to admit said person. The lady had dressed elaborately for the occasion. Her gown was flounced in three tiers and was largely puffed at the wrists. The feather in her enormous hat almost folded against the doorjamb as it tried valiantly to enter with its wearer. Gray hair with the occasional shock of black spilled out in all directions.

  As Robert closed the door another figure, hidden previously, was forced to step out from the shadow of their corpulent neighbor.

  Caroline rose and dipped a polite curtsy to each of the ladies. “Sophia. So nice to see you, as well.”

  Sophia Thompson was as diminutive as her mother was large. Only a glance was needed to discern that the two visitors were opposites. There was intelligence in Sophia’s eyes, character on her face, and she wore a gown much more suited to a morning call.

  After introductions, the four ladies perched firmly on the edges of their chairs and began an important discourse on the weather. This discussion lasted a good five minutes and threatened to continue for at least that again.

  Caroline interrupted—the less-than-fascinating monologue comparing the weather of each passing year—by expressing her thanks to Mrs. Thompson for her hospitality to Walter the previous night.

  “Oh my, Miss Ellerby, it was nothing indeed. My brother is quite taken with him—such an entertaining young man,” she added confidentially. “But, oh my, he does have a tendency to wild ways. Not to worry, though, my Henry keeps him in line.”

  Caroline bit her tongue and pursed her lips to prevent any wayward comment about Henry’s wild ways.

  “We would so like to have you dine with us, too,” Mrs. Thompson continued, unaware of her rudeness. “You must meet him—my brother, that is—before he returns to the West Indies.”

  “Is that likely to be soon?” Caroline tried to sidestep the invitation, but Mrs. Thompson was not easily distracted.

  “I would so like you to see the new ruins. It has just been completed, and Gilbert—Gilbert Renfrew, that’s my brother—says he has seen none better. Oh my, but doesn’t your park remind me of our own before the improvements. You must come to Risely and see what can be done.”

  Caroline pinched her lips tighter and glanced at the clock.

  Sophia’s entry into the conversation startled them all. “Have you heard that a body was pulled from the channel?”

  “Sophia!” Her mother sharply called her daughter to order. “What can you be thinking? That is no subject for a young lady to discuss.” Thus having noted its impropriety, she proceeded to do just that. “Oh my, it was just this morning that I learned. Poor soul. Battered up against the rocks, or so I’m told. So sad. The high sea brought it right into the bay, skirts floating all over the place, or so I’m told. Can you imagine—?”

  “I am trying not to, Mrs. Thompson.” Caroline cut the discussion off before the description became detailed. “It, as you say, is not a subject for gentle conversation.” She glanced toward Beth. “Most unseemly.” It was more of a rebuke than was her norm, but Caroline was disturbed by Beth’s color … rather, lack of color. She had gone quite pale.

  “Yes, quite.” Mrs. Thompson sniffed, doing her best to impart the notion that a woman of breeding should not interrupt her elders. “Tell me, Miss Dobbins, are you one of the Brightly Dobbinses or one of the Midhurst Dobbinses?” Mrs. Thompson turned to Caroline. “I have such a large social circle. I am sure that I am acquainted with at least one member of Miss Dobbins’ family.”

  Caroline watched her neighbor’s eyes focus on the newspaper sitting on her desk. A sly expression on Mrs. Thompson’s face replaced the one of feigned interest.

  “A large circle can be a burden at times. For only just this morning I received news, poor Charlotte,” Mrs. Thompson said, lowering her head as if in deference to the absent woman. “Lady Charlotte Dalruin, of course. She went to such extraordinary lengths to accommodate Miss Barlow … from what I understand. Such lengths. Can you imagine the shock she must have endured when Miss Barlow did not appear at her own ball?

  “I have not actually met the Barlows, but my maiden aunt, Miss Penelope Morris, has spoken of the Barlow family in such glowing terms that I feel as if I know them. Whatever can have occurred to deliver such an undeserved slight to poor Charlotte?”

  Fortunately for both Beth and Caroline, the requisite quarter hour drew to a close, without further discourse of either the Dobbinses or a reiteration of the dinner invitation to Risely. Neither Beth nor Caroline was sorry to see the door close on the yards of flounced silk.

  “I should, of course, return the call by week’s end. Mrs. Thompson will consider it a slight otherwise.” Caroline sighed with resignation. “Perhaps we will encounter the worldly Mr. Renfrew and thereby negate the need of an introductory meal.”

  “Was a body pulled from the bay?” Beth asked.

  Caroline blinked in surprise at the non sequitur. “I haven’t heard any such thing, as yet. Though the possibility is fairly high. Rumors often have some truth to them.”

  “I am very sorry, Caroline. You are likely to know who—”

  “Yes,” Caroline interrupted before the discussion became overly sentimental; it would do neither of them any good to speculate on the identity of the body. “I’ll ask James to look into it,” she said, staring at the door.

  Beth nodded, picking up her needle and canvas when Caroline returned to her desk.

  Caroline touched her quill as if she were going to draw it from the well. She looked down at the neat, incomplete letter on which she had been working before the interruption. She picked it up and rent it in half, then quarters.

  The frown and questioning look on Beth’s face prompted Caroline to explain. “Mrs. Thompson’s visit was not as worthless as it seemed, Beth. I am well enough acquainted with Penelope Morris that a note from me would not be out of turn. As she is on friendly terms with the Barlows, we can begin our inquiries without appearing to do so.”

  Beth’s nod of understanding was somewhat lackluster, but Caroline felt her companion would react somewhat differently when the reply came in. Caroline pulled out a fresh piece of paper and began her missive anew.

  * * *

  BETH SETTLED HER skirts across the back of the spirited roan, Bodicia, and reveled in the natural feel of the saddle. She had swung her leg over the sidesaddle horn with the ease of practice—she could ride, skillfully and comfortably. There was no other explanation for the feeling of excitement and anticipation
as she had placed her foot in the stirrup. The afternoon could be enjoyed in the fields and forests; lessons were not required.

  Caroline had come to the stable with Beth and James to see them off. Ned would accompany them for propriety’s sake, though at a discreet distance.

  Bodicia danced and skittered across the cobbles, until Beth had the mare under control and Caroline nodded with satisfaction to see Beth’s skill. James was pleased as well, and claimed not to be surprised. Beth thought she detected a hint of admiration in his eyes.

  Following James out of the yard, Beth smiled as Jack preceded them, barking and chasing squirrels through the thickets and hedges. The path was worn, and well able to handle a dog and two riders abreast.

  Beth urged Bodicia forward as James had done with Tetley. They rode in silence, breathing in the fresh spring air. The smell of newly turned earth mixed with a tinge of salt air was familiar, but not distinct enough to be a memory.

  Beth laughed, watching Jack bound deep into the grass and then bob back up to check on them, to make sure they were following.

  And still no word or comment passed between the riders.

  Beth shifted in the saddle. She was slightly uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with the horse. She tried not to look at James; when she did her heart beat faster and her face flushed of its own accord.

  Instead, she started running conversations through her head, looking for a witty but comfortable topic. Something that would impress.

  “Lovely weather we are having.” Well, perhaps impressive was overrated.

  “A bit blustery, and a tad on the cool side. But yes, overall, a perfectly reasonable day.” He snapped his mouth shut, likely realizing how awkward they both sounded.

  Beth stole a glance at the handsome young gentleman who sat so straight and tall in the saddle. He stared back at her. Intelligence reflected in his eyes, and his smile was warm and gentle. Beth felt another uncontrollable flush begin at her toes and make its way up her body. She tried to look away before it reached her face, but his eyes wouldn’t let her go.