Chapter Twelve
It took several days for the newly-enlarged household to find its feet.
Dal was somewhat taken aback by the enthusiasm and forthrightness of the Tisdale twins, especially when Hestia asked him if he’d like them to come to his rooms one evening, in front of everyone in the parlour.
Hecate hid her smiles as the normally composed Dal stuttered his way through a polite refusal, and gave her piteous looks that begged for help.
“Ladies, Dal’s religion forbids such a thing,” she said gently. “I know you both must respect the beliefs of others, so while I’m sure he’s aware of your many charms, and the honour you do him, he cannot do anything but refuse.”
“Oh,” replied Hestia sadly, “that’s different then.”
“A shame, though,” added Phoebe, her gaze lingering on Dal’s strong features.
“My loss, Miss Hestia. Miss Phoebe.” Dal had recovered his countenance and was able to bow to both with a degree of graciousness.
“Indeed.” Two identical sighs emerged.
Finn, who was seated on the other side of the parlour with a cup of tea in his hand, turned the conversation. “How is Lady Augusta this evening? I look forward to a time soon when she can be here and share tea…”
Well done, sir. Hecate mentally applauded him.
“She sleeps a lot,” frowned Phoebe. “I’m not sure if she’s resting through the night, but she certainly makes up for it during the day. She took two naps, isn’t that right?” She turned to her sister for corroboration.
Hestia nodded. “She is eating most of the food, so that’s good, and I think her colour is coming back a little. The tea you sent up, Miss Ridlington…she liked that a lot, so I suppose that’s a help as well.”
“I’m glad to hear it. There are herbs that can assist the body and the mind to relax and heal. Many are in that tea—an infusion of my own making. Let us hope we will see her with us more often in the very near future.”
Phoebe eyed the plate with a few biscuits left on it. “Do you think I might take this up to her? Most everyone likes a good shortbread biscuit. I’m sure Lady Augusta is no different. And she’ll be having her last cup of tea right about now…”
“Good idea. By all means take the plate.” Hecate gave the girls an encouraging smile and accepted their little curtsies as they left carrying the biscuits carefully from the room.
“I’ll wager five guineas that Lady Augusta won’t get to see those biscuits,” grinned Finn.
Dal frowned. “They would eat them themselves?”
Hecate couldn’t hold back a laugh. “No, Dal, I’m sure they will offer them to Lady Augusta, but if she doesn’t feel like eating one at the moment, then the rest will be for the twins to enjoy.”
Dal sighed. “Sometimes, in spite of how long I have lived in this country, I am still taken aback by many things.”
“Aren’t we all,” she agreed.
“I had a thought,” said Finn.
“We’re glad to hear it,” teased Hecate.
“No, seriously. Those two girls really do have good hearts, I think, once you peel back the layers of the demimonde. And they need something to keep them busy.”
“No arguments there,” she replied. “Do you have anything in mind?”
Finn looked across the room at her. “What about our farmers?”
“Oh.”
Hecate sat back in her chair, surprised at the suggestion, but turning over its merits. And there were more than a few. “That’s an interesting idea.”
Dal, to her surprise, agreed. “Yes, yes, it is. Since the weather is so bad, neither of the Misses Tisdale would be doing any outdoor farm work. I would not think that appropriate at all.”
“True,” said Finn. “But indoors? Messrs Woodruff and Digby are busy adding rooms. I have no doubt that if you gave those girls paintbrushes they would be able to assist in that part of the business…”
“Not to mention the chance to do a bit of cooking. I heard Phoebe mention the other day that she’d never had the chance to bake a pie of her own since she was a wee sprat…” Hecate chuckled.
“If she baked pies as a wee sprat, then she probably has some talent where food is concerned. Or she’ll poison all of them. Either way, it does relieve us of a bit of a problem.”
Hecate shook her head. “Finn, you are quite impossible.”
“Thank you. I do try.” He dipped his head in thanks.
Rolling her eyes, Hecate waved away his jest. “In the morning, I shall mention the farm and perhaps I can prevail upon you, Dal, to escort the ladies over to visit? Since you’re the man of their attentions, so to speak.”
Big brown eyes met hers in a sorrowful gaze. “Must I?”
“Buck up, lad. Perhaps it’ll be the last you see of ‘em.” Finn’s amusement showed in his eyes.
“You are a comfort, Mr. Finn.” He paused. “In the same way the hug of an elephant is a comfort.” Dal’s retort had them all laughing.
“Well, I’m for bed. I believe this is a good plan, gentlemen. Firstly, for the Tisdales who are going to be bored, and thus troublesome, very soon. Secondly, it will give me more chance to spend time with Lady Augusta. She should be downstairs by now. I intend to see that happen.” Reaching for her cane, she stood. “I will bid you both goodnight.”
“Sleep well, Hecate,” said Finn.
“Pleasant dreams, Miss Hecate,” offered Dal.
“Thank you both.” She left them to it.
Walking slowly up the stairs to her room, she thought about the odd camaraderie that Finn and Dal had developed over the time they’d spent together at Doireann Vale. In the ordinary way of things, those two men would never have met. And yet here they were, tossing humorous exchanges between them, as if they were lifelong friends.
Her hand drifted along the smooth rail, and she paused, looking around her. Bub sat on the top step, waiting to assume his nightly post at the foot of her bed. The house seemed warm, in spite of the icy wind that had plagued them all day. The wooden panels glowed in the candlelight, the worn carpet offered muted colours but a quiet progress up the stairs, and the atmosphere curled around her like a soft fur wrap.
She hoped Lady Augusta would let such things into her mind. How could one not feel better when the house itself was offering its blessings?
*~~*~~*
The Fates conspired to clear most of the clouds on the following morning, which made it much easier for Dal to suggest a walk. The twins eagerly agreed, confirming Hecate’s notion that they’d been indoors long enough.
Informing Hecate that Lady Augusta had breakfasted and dressed this morning, only to decide to rest a little before coming downstairs, Hestia observed that they would not be needed for an hour or two, so a walk would be just the thing.
Phoebe was already talking about putting on her bonnet.
Amused by their enthusiasm, Hecate merely got out of the way and watched from the window of her small parlour as the three unlikely companions set off for their walk.
Finn joined her at the window. “Well, now, there’s something you don’t see every day. A very tall Indian gentleman accompanying two lovely young blondes.”
“True,” agreed Hecate, watching them as they turned the bend in the lane and disappeared from sight. She sighed. “I wonder if Harvey and Digby have any clue what is about to descend on their heads…”
He was close enough behind her that she felt his chest move with his laugh. “I doubt it. These twin delights will appear as if from a dream…”
“And take over their house,” finished Hecate wryly.
“At least they’re getting some fresh air. And that gives us a chance to go back to those plans. We never did get to finish the design, did we?”
He moved away, leaving Hecate somewhat bereft. She liked his nearness.
But he was right. “Very well. Once it’s done we can solicit some bids on the work, so I agree. This morning we should see the end of it.”
Finn walked to the shelf where he had stored the roll of papers, and removed them carefully. Bub strolled in, wrapped himself around Hecate’s skirts and then made for the window, where a smidgen of sunshine was stealing through.
He promptly sat in the centre of it and began washing himself.
“That lad is impossibly spoiled,” commented Finn, grinning at Hecate.
“They were once regarded as gods, you know,” she answered. “Just look at him. Can you doubt the wisdom?”
At that moment something squeaked just outside the window, and Bub stilled, his ears flicking, his amazing green-gold eyes searching…and seeing a large squirrel chasing a mouse.
With an odd little clacking sound, Bub stalked to the window and when the mouse ran and the squirrel set off in pursuit, Bub jumped up on his hind legs, yowled in disgust at the glass and caught a claw on the ancient draperies.
With none of the grace of his species, Bub tugged to try and free himself, but disaster struck and the entire drape ripped off the pegs to fall on top of the cat.
Who was not best pleased, by the sound of things.
Finn and Hecate tried very hard not to laugh at the writhing lump beneath the old and dusty fabric, but they failed. After a moment or two of hearty enjoyment, Hecate caught her breath. “We must free the poor thing. He’ll be so embarrassed.”
“Let me,” said Finn.
He bent down, grabbed the drapery and whisked it aside, freeing the cat and a large amount of dust at the same time.
Hecate blinked it away and waved her hand in front of her face. Finn sneezed. Twice.
And Beelzebub shook himself, gave the two of them a look which should have seared them into greasy spots, and then stalked off to a corner chair. He jumped up, sat and began to wash himself, with his back to the room.
“Well then.” Hecate choked down another giggle.
“Hallo.” Finn bent over. “What’s this?”
He straightened, holding a little box in his hand. Looking up, he gazed at the ledge revealed by the departure of the curtain. “It must have been lodged up there. And goodness only knows for how long.”
“What’s in it?” Curiously she moved to Finn’s side, then turned her head to one side as he blew a cloud of dust from the top.
“There’s a little button here, look…” He held the box on his palm and pressed the tiny button. The lid popped open and Hecate peered within.
“Oh. Oh look, Finn. It’s a miniature, I think.” She gently removed the small brooch, marvelling at the perfection of the image painted upon its surface. A woman looked back at her, a gentlewoman, obviously, her bonny face surrounded by the frills of an elegant cap. Her curly hair emerged in soft twists beneath the lace, and her gown was a mere hint at the bottom of the image.
The whole was enclosed in some kind of latticework, simple but effective, and there was a pin affixed to the back which would have secured it to some lucky wearer’s clothing. The pin was bent and the catch missing.
“How very lovely,” she breathed.
“May I?” Finn asked, putting down the box and holding out his hand.
“Of course.” She put the brooch into his palm, still amazed by the delicate beauty of it.
Finn was silent for a few moments, turning it this way and that, touching the back and then moving it face up once more. “Can you look in the box, Hecate? See if there is a name or anything?”
She picked up the box, opened the lid with the little button and looked inside. “Oh goodness…here. Stuck to the inside of the lid. There is a card.”
“Good,” said Finn thoughtfully.
“Let me just ease it free…” She carefully nudged the paper loose. It wasn’t glued, but a tight fight kept in place. Responding to the urgings of her fingernail, Hecate finally sighed with relief when the card dropped free at last.
“Got it.” Returning the box to the table, she moved to the window. “The writing is faded, but I think I can make it out. Yes, here. To my dear Mary Willes, with love and thanks. Declan Willows.” She looked up at Finn. “Who the devil is Mary Willes?”
“And why was she getting a Cosway miniature from Declan Willows?”
Hecate gasped. “Really?” She looked at the brooch. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be. A few years ago, when Cosway was coming into prominence, a good friend and I went to one of his exhibitions. His style is unmistakable, Hecate. The softness of the hair, the bright blue sky behind her the elegance and absolute perfection…I would swear this is an original Cosway.”
She blinked. “It must be worth a pretty penny.”
“It is,” answered Finn. Then he glanced at her. “And what do you want to wager that this is what your intruder was searching for a few weeks ago?”