Delsie

Chapter Fourteen

Mrs. Grayshott left the Hall early that evening. She had a busy day to look forward to herself, with her housecleaning and her creditors coming, but of more importance, Lady Jane was tired and wished an early night. Nine o’clock was an absurd hour to think of going to bed, but sitting alone in state in the saloon was not preferable. She would go to her room and read. When she passed Bobbie’s room, the lights were not yet put out, so she entered for a talk.

“We have a pleasant job to do tomorrow,” she began cheerfully. “We must go through pattern books and select designs for our new gowns, you and I.”

“I’ve already choosed mine. It’s got ribbons,” Bobbie said happily.

Miss Milne was with her, preparing the child for bed, and she too joined in the conversation. “I’ve been telling Mrs. Bristcombe for two months this child needs new clothes.”

“It’s early yet. Let us get my books and have a look at them now,” Delsie suggested. “Bobbie can stay up half an hour later for one night.”

The three girls enjoyed a pleasant perusal of the books. As Delsie arose to go to her own room, she heard the light patter of feet in the hallway. It was the two girls from the Hall, running down to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of cocoa before retiring.

“Would you care for one yourself, miss?” the elder, Nellie, asked with a respectful curtsy. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “I mean ma’am,” she corrected herself hastily. No resentment arose at the error on this occasion. The manner of it was not studied, as Mrs. Bristcombe’s had been.

“I’d like some,” Bobbie declared, while the older girls laughed at her transparent efforts to prolong her staying up. They were young enough themselves to sympathize with the desire, and though Mrs. Grayshott felt no need for cocoa after a late dinner, Miss Milne accepted, to keep her charge company. When the maids came back up ten minutes later, they bore three cups, saying Mrs. Bristcombe had insisted on one for Mrs. Grayshott as well.

“It’ll make you drowsy, ma’am,” the elder added. Being two years older than her mistress, she felt this liberty not too forward.

“Perhaps you’re right,” the lady agreed, and took it. Roberta was inclined to dawdle, with her new mama still in the room, and as it was now becoming late, Delsie took her cup on to her own room, to allow the governess to get Bobbie tucked up in her bed.

It was just ten o’clock when Delsie sat down on her chaise longue-she no longer thought of it as Louise’s room and possessions-to continue leafing through the fashion magazines. How luxurious it was to relax at one’s ease, considering future indulgences. Her eyes lingered long over the pages with ball gowns of bright hues, of riding habits and fancy peignoirs. She particularly envisioned herself in one gown of a soft mint-green, an Empress-line gown, with lace panels inset beneath the high waist, and pretty dark-green ribbons looping up the hem in swatches, with more lace showing beneath.

Next year I shall have that gown, she thought to herself, and sat musing over where she might be likely to wear it. She saw herself at deVigne’s table, dressed in a style to honor it. She must have some jewel to wear around her neck with such an elegant gown. Even a small jewel was not beyond her means now, with careful husbanding of her monies. A small strand of pearls was her modest dream. They could be worn with any color. And a set of earrings, too, would add a touch of glamor she knew to be sadly lacking.

In a happier frame of mind than she had been in since her wedding, she went to the dressing table and began pinning up her hair in a more intricate design than she normally wore. If I were rich, I would have a woman to do this for me, she thought, and found herself wondering whether the elder girl sent down from the Hall might not help with her toilette. She dipped into Louise’s pots of cream, rouge, and powder, to experiment with these dashing items. The rouge was not required, and not easy to apply either, but after prolonged efforts, she had achieved a result not too unnatural-looking. How Mr. Umpton would stare to see her painting her face, she laughed silently to herself.

Glancing at her watch, she noticed she had wasted an hour in this indulgence of vanity, and with a guilty thought to the morning, she prepared for bed. Her eye fell on the cocoa just as she was about to extinguish her candle. It was cold by this time, so she left it to be thrown out in the morning. As she snuggled into her blankets, her mind roved over her cozy future. Her house would soon be in order, she would have a carriage, new gowns, a stepdaughter to add meaning and pleasure to her existence. No real worry marred her reverie as she slipped into a sleep that promised to bring sweet dreams.

It was the sounds outside her window that woke her an hour later. She had been dreaming of herself at a ball, waltzing in the mint-green gown with Mr. Umpton, who wore a painted face, and suddenly the orchard loomed onto the dance floor. Her half-roused state tried to work the external sounds into her dream, when she was suddenly sitting bolt upright in her bed.

Awake now, she could not believe she wasn’t still dreaming. Impossible the pixies were back! Andrew was dead; the smuggling was finished, yet those sounds of voices, of jiggling harnesses and the clop of animals’ hooves, were clearly distinguishable. With a rush of anger she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The caravan-there were at least five mules!-was entering the orchard. In the dim light of a new moon it was hard to see, but clearly the sides of the mules were disfigured with bulges-barrels of brandy. She peered hard to try to distinguish individuals-dark forms were visible, but no facial features. Then she saw one shape clearly different from the others-a large woman, wearing white. Mrs. Bristcombe, still wearing her white apron. She could not make a positive identification, but she was morally certain who that one person was.

Fear was forgotten in the first rash rush of anger. Her whole impulse was to run down to the orchard and order them away. But she had not lived most of her adult life in a seaside town without having heard tales of the behavior of smugglers, and her next thought was to bolt her door, jump into her bed, and pretend to be oblivious to the whole. In fact, she did this, but the racket continued with really very little effort at silence, till at length her fear lessened, and she began considering what she might do without endangering herself or the other innocent ones in the house.

She got out of bed, put on her gown, unbolted her door, and tiptoed down to Miss Milne’s room. Odd that Bobbie slept through the noise, she thought, but a glance into the room confirmed that the child was not awake. On to Miss Milne’s room, one door down. She entered softly and shook the sleeping form of the governess. What a sound sleeper she is, Delsie thought, and jiggled her arm harder. She had awakened more easily the other night-the falling shovel had awakened her. She began calling her name. For a full minute she indulged in this fruitless chore, till it was clear the girl was in no normal sleeping state, but was drugged. Who would have thought that nice Miss Milne took laudanum? It was impossible to rouse her. She wondered whether she had the courage to go above and try to awaken the girls from the Hall.

Then she thought again of Bobbie, sleeping like a top when she was a light sleeper. Was it possible she too was drugged? It was not long occurring to her what ailed them. It was the cocoa. They had all had it except herself, and Mrs. Bristcombe had insisted she have some too, to make sure they all slept through this latest smuggling expedition. Furious, she stood panting, while the full impotence of her position washed over her. She was in a house with no one she could alert, and outside the walls a band of villainous lawbreakers were piling up barrels of contraband in the orchard. She returned quietly to her room, determined to observe their every movement and discover, if she could, where the hiding place was. Tomorrow at the crack of dawn she would send for deVigne and place the mess in his lap, where it belonged.

The mules were being led out of the orchard when she resumed her post at the window, no longer bearing their felonious burden. Their sides did not bulge now. The men followed them, and two forms, the white-aproned one and another-the Bristcombes, of course-silently entered the house by the kitchen door. They hadn’t had time to do anything but place the barrels in the orchard, she figured. They had the impudence to leave their smuggled goods standing in plain view in her orchard. Her wrath knew no bounds, but she was helpless till morning. She must remain immured in the house, with the incriminating evidence waiting to be discovered by a revenue man or honest citizen who chanced by. It was infamous, and in her mind it was not her late husband so much as her husband’s brother-in-law who was held accountable for it.

Little sleep was possible in such a state of agitation as she had achieved, but in spite of this, she was awake at her old familiar hour of seven. She dashed immediately to the window. The trunks of the apple trees successfully concealed the barrels of brandy, but she knew they were there, a barrel ingeniously hidden behind each tree. Of that there was not a single doubt in her mind. She was still a little frightened to go alone, so went along to see if Bobbie or Miss Milne were up. The child slept, but the governess was dressed, just drawing a brush through her hair, while covering a yawn with the other hand.

“Oh, good morning, Mrs. Grayshott,” she said, jumping up at her mistress’s entrance at this unaccustomed hour. Her hands flew to her head, as though to hold it on. “I have such a headache this morning,” she said. “I don’t know why I should have, for I slept like a top. But with the worst dreams. I thought I was being dragged by a horse. Isn’t that absurd?”

“Not so absurd as you may think,” the widow answered, and, carefully closing the door behind her, she went further into the room.

“What do you mean, ma’am?” the governess asked.

“There is something very odd going on here,” Delsie replied.

“Yes, I know. It is something to do with the orchard, isn’t it?”

“Have you heard something, Miss Milne?”

“Only rumors, ma’am. I don’t get into Questnow much myself, but my cousin Betsy at the Dower House made an odd remark when I was there Sunday. I told her about what happened to you the night we saw the man in the garden. I told her about the noises that happen there from time to time as well, and she said she thought maybe it was smugglers.”

“I think so myself, but it has gone beyond smugglers in the orchard. Miss Milne, I think you were drugged last night.”

The girl’s eyes opened wider in fright. It was not necessary to ask whether she had administered any laudanum to herself. She was horrified. “How should it be possible?”

“How indeed? You will remember the cocoa you drank. Bobbie, as well, slept like a top through the most infernal racket.”

“What about yourself, ma’am? You had cocoa too.”

“No, I didn’t drink it. I heard men in the orchard last night, and tried to rouse you. You were in a deep, drugged sleep. I watched from the window, and saw them bring a load of brandy into the orchard. I mean to go down this minute and see if I’m not right.”

“Folks do say it’s better not to meddle with the gentlemen,” the girl suggested, reluctant to comply with the hint.

“Very well, then, I shall go alone. It is broad daylight. I don’t suppose anything will happen to me.”

“You daren’t… I’ll go with you,” Miss Milne decided, snatching up a shawl.

They went silently along the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door, opening and closing it with caution to avoid alerting the Bristcombes. Quietly they hastened around the corner to the orchard, there to stare at each other in speechless amazement. There was no sign of a barrel, nor of any disturbance. “I know they were here. I saw them with my own eyes,” Delsie declared in frustration. She performed the futile gesture of darting to the back of the orchard, to see the rank grass untouched, its dew undisturbed, not a blade trampled down. “They were here. I am not mad!” she insisted to the doubting governess, regarding her questioningly.

“I had terrible dreams myself last night,” Miss Milne offered.

“Yes, because you were drugged,” Delsie stated firmly, with no outward show of wavering, though she was beginning to wonder if she had suffered a nightmare. “There is no point standing here arguing. I’ll speak to Mrs. Bristcombe about it.”

“Oh, Mrs. Grayshott, I wouldn’t!” Miss Milne warned.

“Am I to cower from my own housekeeper?” she answered indignantly.

“If you think she’s one of them… The tales Betsy told me of the village…”

“Yes, including the tale that is rampant there about me! My own students afraid to come to me because of the stories. It can’t go on. I’ll have this out with Mrs. Bristcombe.”

But when the steely-eyed Mrs. Bristcombe stood before her at breakfast, her nerve weakened. Not in front of the child, she excused her cowardice. I’ll speak to her later. “Did you sleep well?” the housekeeper asked, with a sly look on her face.

The gall of the question was sufficient to renew her fortitude. “No, I did not, Mrs. Bristcombe. Kind of you to ask. I slept very poorly, due to the disturbance in the orchard. I noticed from my window that you were present, and would like you to tell me what was going forward there.”

“Me?” the woman asked, with an amused grin on her wide face. “I was tucked up in my bed at nine o’clock, Mrs. Grayshott.”

“Not quite at nine, I think. You were kind enough to insist on making me a cup of cocoa at nine-thirty, if you will recall.”

“Oh, well, it may have been ten,” was the saucy answer, with a look that said, “Make what you can of that, milady.”

“Then again, it may have been two,” the widow replied frostily. She was suddenly aware of her vulnerable position. She and Miss Milne, who sat looking very much like a frightened bunny, and a child, were alone in the house with the Bristcombes. This powerful pair, allied as they were with the criminal smugglers-who could know what they might do? To delay bringing the matter to a crisis, she said, “I shall speak to Lord deVigne about it.”

I should fire her now, she thought, but was afraid. Her insides were shaking like a blancmange. She was cowering before her own housekeeper, as she had vowed she would not. But before the day was out, she would be rid of this woman and her husband.

“I’ll just see if Mr. Bristcombe knows what you’re talking about,” the housekeeper said. Her manner became more compliant at the mention of deVigne’s name. They did not fear herself, a defenseless widow, but they were still not intrepid enough to take on the lord of the village.

Mrs. Bristcombe left, and the others sat on, Mrs. Grayshott sipping a cup of very inferior coffee, and wondering why she had put up with the insolent hag for so long as a single day. She had known the first morning she came that they could never rub along. Bobbie was listless this morning, heavy-eyed after her drugged sleep.

“I dreamed about Daddy last night,” she said. “He put an engine in my bed, and made it dance. It was scary.”

“Now, isn’t that odd,” Miss Milne mentioned, casting a significant look towards her mistress. “I had a word with Nellie and Olive, the maids from the Hall, and they had bad dreams too. The whole lot of us had bad dreams.”

Because the whole lot of you were drugged, the widow’s knowing nod replied. They exerted themselves to make some light conversation for the child’s sake, but as soon as the meal was over, Mrs. Grayshott saw them upstairs to the schoolroom to allow her to proceed with a plan. This business was too serious to brook more delay. She would call on Lord deVigne, and shamelessly ask him to fire the Bristcombes. She was afraid to do it herself.

The trip proved unnecessary. He was on his way to the village, and stopped by to see if he could perform any commission for Mrs. Grayshott. He saw at a glance that she was full of news, as he stepped into the saloon. “More bags of gold?” he asked lightly.

“It has gone beyond a laughing matter,” she rounded on him. She opened her full budget, ending with, “And the Bristcombes will be turned off this day, as they should have been done the day I arrived.”

“Why didn’t you do it?” he asked her.

“Because you told me to give them a chance!”

“They have had their chance, and now it is time to be rid of them. This cannot go on.”

“I am surprised you agree with me. I made sure you would recommend I let them stay on, serving us all poisoned drinks.”

“No, I am not so fond of them as that. Give them their leave, by all means,” he answered.

“I shall,” she replied, but hesitantly, with a little questioning look, hoping he would suggest doing it himself. He was always interfering; why did he not do so today, when she wanted it?

“If you’re afraid, I’ll do it for you.” Every atom of her body wished to grab at the offer, but the wording of it made this impossible. “They are my servants; I’ll dismiss them,” she was forced to say. Just as she closed her lips, Bristcombe stepped into the room.

“I have been wanting to speak to you, Bristcombe,” she said, thankful that at least deVigne was to be present at the firing. There would be no impudence from the servants with him present. She was secretly glad too that it was to the husband she was to deliver her message. The wife was more daunting even than her grouchy spouse.

“I just came in to say, ma’am, as how me and the missus will be leaving you for good. We’ve had an urgent call from the wife’s mother over at Merton that we’re needed. They want us right away. Today.”

She looked her amazement, swallowed, and couldn’t think of a word to say. Her relief, she felt, must be evident on her face.

“Excellent!” deVigne said. “We rather thought you might be leaving soon. It was what Mrs. Grayshott wished to speak to you about.”

“We figured Mrs. Grayshott and the little girl could stay with Lady Jane for a couple of days, till she can get someone to replace us,” Bristcombe said, continuing his discussion with deVigne.

“A very good idea,” deVigne agreed calmly.

“That is not necessary,” Mrs. Grayshott objected.

“You will not be comfortable here with no housekeeper and no manservant about the place,” deVigne said, with a meaningful glance, whose meaning evaded her.

The last thing she wanted was to give Bristcombe the idea he was indispensable. “I have your two girls from the Hall,” she pointed out. “We shall stay on here, certainly.”

“We’ll decide that later,” deVigne said, with a look at Bristcombe, who appeared to take a keen interest in the matter. “Thank you, Bristcombe. That will be all.” The man executed a clumsy bow and left.

“As though I’ll miss them in the least,” Delsie scoffed.

Her visitor walked forward and closed the door, shaking his head at her in a negative way. She continued. “I’m happy to be rid of them so easily, and only regret I hadn’t the pleasure of firing them. And for them to leave so abruptly too-no consideration, walking out without a moment’s notice. Not that I want them to stay!”

“You mismanaged that very badly,” deVigne said curtly when she had finished.

“The mismanagement was in letting them stay so long, and that was your fault.”

“It is clear they want you out of here for a night to allow them to get the goods smuggled in last night. Best to go to Jane for a day or two till the business is finished. They may have intended carrying on with Andrew’s operation, but now that you have tumbled to them, they are eager to leave. They want only to get that load of brandy out of here, and you must go to Jane to permit them to do so.”

“I will do no such thing!” she replied promptly, rising to anger at his imperious manner.

“Use your head. You don’t want to become entangled with a conscienceless band of smugglers. Let them get their stuff off your property, and that will be an end to it. Get your things together. I’ll take you to Jane at once.”

“I am not budging an inch. I mean to stay here and discover where they have been hiding it.”

“That is nothing to us. So long as they get out and don’t come back, you may count yourself fortunate.”

“I never heard of such paltry cowardice in my life!”

“It would be foolhardy to do anything else. We have no quarrel with the smugglers. Half the villagers are in on it, and if you run afoul of them, you may imagine what unpleasant treatment you will get there.”

“I am not the one who has been breaking the law. It is not for me to turn tail and run. I am in charge of this house, and I don’t mean to be put out by the Bristcombes.”

“You can well afford to be put out for two days. What do you think to accomplish by remaining? You can’t arrest them by yourself, and to call in the revenue men, you know, is tantamount to declaring war on the whole smuggling community. Your life will be a hell. If you care nothing for that, you might at least give a thought to Roberta.”

“I am thinking of her. They have some excellent hiding place here. Who is to say they won’t revert to it later on, if we don’t discover it and get rid of it? I must know where they have been putting it. I should think you would offer to help me, instead of siding with a band of smugglers.”

“I will keep a careful watch and see where they have hidden the stuff, but let them get it off your property. That is all they want to do. Let them go their way. They do no real harm to anyone-it is not as though they were murderers. They molest no one so long as they are not interfered with. They are not considered criminals in the ordinary way. I personally have no grudge against them. Andrew was working with them-they have got caught unprepared, with no place to take the cargo but here. Best to let them go on with it. Get your things together now, and let the Bristcombes see you are leaving. They’ll spread the word, and by tomorrow or the next day the thing will be over for good.”

“That’s what you said several days ago, that it was over for good. Since that time we have all been poisoned, however! They have the gall for anything. I won’t try to stop them, but I won’t run away either. I’ll just spy and see where they have been hiding the barrels. It is nothing short of magic, deVigne, that they took a whole caravan of mules, each carrying two barrels, into the orchard, and it vanished.”

“They won’t come for it with you here.”

“If they don’t come for it, there is nothing to worry about,” she replied reasonably.

“They’ll find some way of being rid of you, and it won’t be pleasant.”

It had become a contest of wills. In her mind, she decided he was trying to bend her to do his bidding, and she was bound to stay if it killed her. “I am not leaving this house,” she told him.

“You mean to expose my niece to this unnecessary danger, do you?” he asked sharply.

“Certainly not. You may take Roberta to Lady Jane, or take her yourself.”

“I will take you both. Pack you bag. We’re leaving,” he commanded.

She inhaled a deep breath and threw back her shoulders for the challenge. “I have come to realize you are very much accustomed to having your own way. I have seen the villagers tugging their forelocks when you strut past. My own former docility in marrying your drunken, criminal brother-in-law against my will may have misled you into thinking I am equally biddable. It is not the case. I am in charge of this house. You are in no position of authority over me. Nor of my stepdaughter either, for that matter. I could keep her here if I wished, but I do not wish it. You may take Roberta. I remain.”

“I take leave to tell you, Mrs. Grayshott, you are a stubborn fool. Will you be so kind as to tell Miss Milne to prepare Roberta for a few days’ visit at the Hall? I shall require Miss Milne’s presence as well, of course, to look after the child. You shan’t have her this time if you run into a gentleman in the garden. The treatment of yourself will be different as well.”

“Don’t think to make me go by taking Miss Milne from me,” she replied. Actually it was a severe blow to be losing the governess. She turned and went to deliver the message to Miss Milne. As she angrily stalked up the stairs, she considered his words. How did he know Miss Milne had been with her in the garden? She had not told him. She had said practically nothing-as little as possible. Perhaps Miss Milne herself had mentioned it.

She asked the girl this question when she spoke to her. “Oh, no, ma’am. I never talk to him, only to say ‘how do you do,’ or to answer a question about Miss Grayshott.” The girl was busy throwing a few pieces of linen into a bag. She made no effort to conceal her relief at escaping the house. “And are you staying, then, ma’am?” she asked.

“Certainly I am.” She had only a minute to consider that if deVigne knew Miss Milne had been with her in the garden, it was because he had been there himself. It was he who had grabbed her and kissed her. Whatever emotions this might have raised in a more peaceful mood, at the height of her anger it was seen as an impertinence and insult.

When she returned to the saloon, deVigne stood with one booted foot on the finder of the grate, in a state of angry concentration. “I hope Miss Milne has succeeded in changing your mind,” he said.

“She is not so insolent as to try,” was the unyielding answer. “While we are on the subject of Miss Milne, may I ask how you came to know she was in the garden with me the night I was attacked by a libertine? I did not tell you so, and she has just confirmed for me that she did not tell you herself.”

His face was impassive, untouched by shame at being found out. “It was myself in the garden. I did it only to frighten you. I had already told you not to go out. It served you right. It was my hope it would prevent a repetition of such foolhardiness on your part in the future. Your present decision leads one to the inevitable conclusion you enjoy being attacked by libertines.”

“Not by you! I never encountered such overweaning arrogance in my life. Anyone who doesn’t do as you order is stubborn!”

“I suggest it for your own good. What do you think will happen to you if you are caught spying about the orchard, discovering the identity of the smugglers?”

“Whatever happens, I cannot believe it will prove so unpleasant as my last experience there. And I don’t mean to be caught this time.”

“You overestimate your abilities. I caught you. I shall let Jane persuade you.”

“I shan’t be joining Lady Jane for dinner this evening. Perhaps you will be kind enough to make my apologies, as I have no carriage to go and tell her myself.”

“You will find it a long day, with no company but your own mulish-” He came to a halt.

“I expect to have a deal of company. You forget your brother-in-law’s creditors will be descending on me today, dunning me for his year’s unpaid bills.”

“It will give a fine impression, for you to be seen answering your own door before half the village.”

“They will expect no better from a smuggler’s widow!” she retaliated.

“You are determined to make this affair as unsavory as possible, I see. This is sheer spite. You do it to show me what an untenable position I have put you in by this marriage. I confess quite frankly, ma’am, I think it was an error. Had I had the least idea what Andrew was up to, I would not have urged you to marry him, but there is no need to cast yourself on the mercy of a band of smugglers to bring the message home to me.”

“That is not why I am doing it.”

“Why then? There is no sane reason in the world for you to expose yourself so needlessly.”

“You wouldn’t understand. I object to being used by people. I object to the open sneers of the Bristcombes, to their audacity in using this house for a smugglers’ den. I will not be told by them or any persons of such doubtful morality what I am to do.”

“Especially me! Let me tell you, I am as finely tuned to the nuances of morality and moral turpitude as you, or anyone else. There is no outstanding virtue in stubbornness, however.”

“I wonder that you embrace it so tenaciously.” She examined him with her gray, assessing eyes, that hid all her uncertainty. She began to be assailed by doubts as to whether she were doing the sensible thing. She had relied heavily on Miss Milne’s presence, and had secretly thought deVigne would insist on helping her too, but he was bent on depriving her of every jot of assistance. “I suppose you will take your two girls from the Hall back too?” she asked.

“I shan’t cater to your whim for heroism by leaving you to stand alone against the tribe. Do you want a few of my footmen sent down for the night?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she answered with the utmost indifference, but hoping he would prevail against her.

“Very well. Do you know how to use a pistol?”

“No! I don’t intend to shoot anyone.”

“It will be well for you to have some protection, in case the smugglers decide to take advantage of a woman alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Your girls will be here with me,” she pointed out, her eyes widening in fright.

“There is no saying their boyfriends aren’t amongst the smugglers. If it comes to a showdown, I wouldn’t count on the girls for much help.”

“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she said, hoping he didn’t realize how well he was succeeding.

“Not at all. I am merely trying to prepare you for what will in all probability happen.”

She wavered in her mind, half wanting to give in, but disliking to act so cowardly. He spoke on, still in the frightening vein. “Andrew has several guns about the place. Get one and I’ll load it for you and show you how to use it. Be careful you don’t kill someone, with it lying about the place loaded.”

She had suspected before that he was trying to scare her, and was now convinced of it. She shrugged her shoulders and answered facetiously, to conceal her fear. “I don’t want a gun. You will remember, when I am done in, that we have decided on a black coffin for me.”

He scowled at her, but before he could reply, Bobbie came hopping into the room. “Me and Miss Milne are going to the Hall, Mama,” she said. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Not today, dear. Another time. Mama is busy today.”

“We’re going to sleep there all night,” Bobbie told her. “Won’t you be afraid here all alone, with the Bristcombes gone?”

“I won’t be all alone. Nell and Olive are here.”

“What if the pixies come?” the child asked her.

“Your mama is not afraid of pixies,” Max told her, with a seething look at the stepmama.

Miss Milne came downstairs with a small bag in her hands. The three who were leaving made their adieux and departed. Delsie had to use every drop of her self-control not to dash out the door after them.