Chapter Eleven #2
“She would not dare it, though. It is dark and cold out of doors.”
“Why does she go down the main staircase then? If she were hungry or wished for a pot of tea, she would have taken the backstairs into the kitchens. Also, she is still fully dressed, as if all she would need to do was put on her overcoat.”
“She would have taken the backstairs if she were going for tea. But then, perhaps she has forgot something down there.”
“Forgot what, though? She just got here and Jimmy took her travel case straight to her room.”
“If she has thought to return home at such an hour—”
“She must be stopped. We must stop her.”
They both jumped up and ran for their dressing gowns. Poppy returned, tying the gown round her waist. Pansy picked up a candlestick.
If Miss Millthorpe was so daft as to attempt to walk home at night in the snow, they would stop her.
They had once been her charges, but there were times these days when they felt the tables had turned.
There were moments when they must look out for Miss Millthorpe’s welfare as if she was their charge.
Her hard-headedness might have led her to do something that really was not rational.
Smuckers had been relatively aggravated that Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander had insisted on staying in the drawing room with their brandy. He’d thought he’d need to act as chaperone to see that they did not end killing one another as a final answer to the Roses War.
Lord Burkhart had dismissed him for the night, though.
They’d seemed civil enough, so perhaps they’d decided to move past their ridiculous argument. If they hadn’t and decided to have a wrestling match in the drawing room, well, he could hardly be expected to manage them after he’d been dismissed.
He’d left them to go below stairs for a last cup of tea. Mrs. Featherstone had been waiting for him in his butler’s closet, and had helped herself to his sherry, but he explained that he would be hiding in the library this night.
Initially, he could see very well that she thought it all nonsense. But then she became intrigued by the chance of impending disaster. She’d poured herself a second glass of sherry to accompany her happy contemplation of it.
Smuckers had since gone back up. The hall was dark and Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander were nowhere to be found. The house was abed and he would take up his duties in the darkened library. He picked up one of the fire pokers and his pump-can of gin on his way into that room.
It was not the first time he’d taken up such a nighttime duty.
The last had been when Mr. Hamilton had visited the house and acted so odd.
That particular night, he’d observed the gentleman placing bits of meat on the stairs and muttering about how they would not get him.
He had too much to live for. Smuckers had been convinced they had invited a madman into the house.
As it turned out, Mr. Hamilton had been attempting to lure Dandy to his room with the bits of meat on the stairs. He wished the Pomeranian to act as a guard against Rose Granger, who he was under the impression was a knife-wielding maniac.
That was beginning to feel like the good old days.
The library’s fire had been banked and there was only a soft glow under the ash for a gloomy illumination.
He tiptoed to the windows and looked over the drive.
The moon was up but clouds skidded across it with the wind.
Its light appeared and then disappeared only leaving brief moments of illumination over the landscape.
He pressed his face against the glass and looked in every direction.
He could just see the edge of the step outside the front door and it glistened for a moment in the moonlight.
The water he’d poured over it had frozen.
Should a rogue put one foot on it, he would end flat on his back.
Smuckers squinted. Was that something in the distance, nearby the stables?
He could not tell, it could just as easily be a trick of the eyes.
It might be the fort that Teddy and Bertie had put so much work into.
If the clouds would settle one way or the other, he could make it out better.
Suddenly, he heard footfalls on the stairs. Yes, that was distinctly the creak on the third stair down from the landing. He gripped his fire poker and pump-can of gin and silently moved to the door.
He peered out.
Much to his astonishment, it was Miss Millthorpe. What was the lady doing?
He watched her slowly step down the stairs, as if she were trying to keep the noise to a minimum.
Then, for reasons only known to herself, when she reached the great hall, she walked down the corridor.
She passed the doors to the dining room and headed toward the ballroom.
Further, she was using an umbrella as some sort of walking stick.
What on earth? Had she been injured by the ruffians and was hiding the fact that she required the assistance of a stick? Was this a usual thing the lady did? Just wandering round the downstairs? What did she want with the ballroom? And to do so on such a night! She might place herself in danger.
She drifted further down the hall, taking the light of her candle with her. The gloom settled on the great hall once more.
This was exceedingly disturbing. He was fully prepared to take on housebreakers singlehandedly. He’d not thought he’d have to defend the Hall’s governess while he was at it.
Smuckers returned to the windows and squinted. Had that thing in the distance moved? He could not tell.
The clock struck two and he knew it was to be a very long night. He would not falter in the face of it.
Smuckers spun on his heel. Was that another creak on the stairs? Who on earth was coming now?
He hurried to the library’s doors and peered round.
Lord Montachet! What was he doing, roaming the house at night?
The lord seemed to be coming straight for the library. Perhaps he came for a book? He must do. What else would he come for?
Smuckers felt it would be exceedingly awkward to be found standing there in the dark. He stepped behind one of the doors and hoped he would not be noticed in the dim light.
The baron walked in, very silently as if he were a cat, and made his way over to the gold clock on the mantel. He picked it up.
What was he doing?
At the same time, Smuckers heard more footfalls on the stairs. Clearly more than one person. What was happening in this house!
The baron apparently heard the footsteps too and he froze. Of course he would wish to go unnoticed, it would be awkward to explain what he was doing in the library to another inmate of the house so late at night.
Or explain it to more than one inmate.
Smuckers heard whispering and recognized the voices instantly. It was the twins.
What were they doing creeping down here at night?
Smuckers felt a grip in his chest. Was there some sort of assignation unfolding?
He could hardly believe it! As irritating as Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander had been with all their pointless arguing, he would never have suspected they would stoop to anything shocking, nor would he imagine the girls agreeing to such an outrage. And yet, there they were.
Was that why Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander had insisted on sending him to his bed? Were they waiting in the dark of the drawing room?
He would catch them at it and reveal all to the viscount and viscountess. Those two gentlemen would be sent packing. And, if he knew the viscountess, the twins would be right back under the supervision of Miss Millthorpe.
Then, suddenly, it all began to make sense. That was why Miss Millthorpe was downstairs. She planned to catch them at it too. That lady was always on her toes and had somehow unearthed the scheme.
He would help her do it, but first, he would need to get rid of the baron, who was clearly hoping not to be noticed in the library.
“Nothing this way,” Miss Pansy said.
“What about the other way?” Miss Poppy said.
“Let us go in all haste.”
My God, were they searching the house for the gentlemen? It was very untoward. As assignation was shameful enough. But to have to chase after the fellows?
Their footsteps drifted away. The baron let out a breath, while Smuckers held his own. He listened to the baron’s footsteps crossing the library. The gentleman passed through the doors. Smuckers had expected he would take himself back up the stairs, but he did not. Where had he gone?
Smuckers slipped out from behind the door in the library. And then something caught his eye. The clock that the baron had been examining was gone. How could it be gone?
He hurried over to the mantel and looked about. It was not there.
It was a fine old clock, gold plated and from the Stewart era that had sat on that mantel for generations. He still remembered when Miss Violet used to time her studies with it. Had the baron moved it?
Smuckers looked on tables and chairs and even the rug. It was positively gone. Had the baron thought to relocate it to his own room? It would be very high-handed and rude to do it. But then, this was a fellow who had not seemed to recognize his fish fork so Smuckers supposed anything was possible.
A crash resounded, making him jump and seeming to come from the ballroom. Then another crash and a shout from the drawing room.
Smuckers wished to race somewhere, but where? He left the library for the great hall. He’d dropped the fire poker, as it occurred to him that he would need both hands to operate the pump-can of gin and he did think it was his most deadly weapon.
There were sounds of a struggle and crashes coming from the drawing room and the ballroom. Who was struggling?
Perhaps Miss Millthorpe was struggling with the twins. Perhaps the baron had gone into the drawing room. But then, who was he struggling with?
Smuckers did not know what on earth was happening in the house, but he did believe his moment for heroics had come. One way or another, family lore was moments away from being created and remembered through the annals of time.