Chapter Five
As Shermont entered his suite of rooms, relief warred with excitement. Finally, he’d found a clue.
“I fear you’ve ruined your coat, milord,” Carl the valet said in the same tone as if he were announcing a beloved pet had passed. But that was how he always sounded.
“Where is that folio of maps?” Shermont asked as he slipped out of the garment. He walked to the desk and searched through a pile of books and papers.
Carl extended the coat to arm’s length. “I had not realized croquet was so … pugilistic.”
“I chased my ball into the woods,” Shermont said absently as he opened drawers and pawed through the contents.
“Dirt. Mud. I’ll never get these grass stains out.”
“I’m sure I brought a detailed map of the local area.” Shermont turned to face the shorter man. He crossed his arms. “Have you been straightening my work again?”
“If I were allowed to keep your papers organized, you would be able to find what you’re looking for.” Carl held up the ruined coat with two fingers poking through rips in the fabric.
“Thornbushes.”
Carl shook his head and made tutting, clucking noises like an old crone eyeing her broken rocking chair.
“Forget the damn coat. Help me find that map.”
The valet took one last affectionate look at the coat and then tossed it over his shoulder. He walked to the desk and withdrew the map from a stack of papers.
“Carl, you’re a magician.”
“Yes, milord.”
Shermont sat at the desk and spread out the map. He tried to ignore his valet’s fussing about, moving objects that didn’t need straightening. Finally, he turned and asked, “Is there something you wanted to say?”
“Nothing in particular,” Carl said with a shrug.
“Come on. Out with whatever is bothering you.”
“It’s that female.”
Shermont didn’t need to ask which female he was talking about. Carl’s consistent doom and gloom attitude could get a bit annoying at times, but he’d proven perceptive in their activities for the crown.
“Something about her doesn’t ring true.” Once started, Carl didn’t pull any punches. “I’m concerned your attraction to her will distract you from your mission—”
“Our mission.”
“And may blind you to the chance she could be involved.”
Despite the fact he’d already learned Eleanor was dangerous to his equilibrium, he denied the possibility. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You will by necessity be much in her company. There is the ball and a picnic tomorrow.”
“You worry too much.”
Carl heaved a sigh. “It is my nature, my job, my curse, and my reason for being.”
“And it has saved our lives a time or two. Just try to keep it to a minimum until there is really something to worry about.”
“Yes, milord.”
“Now, have a look at this.” Shermont smoothed out the heavy paper and pointed. “This is where I entered the wood. About here I found a path … but it’s not marked on the map.”
“Probably just an animal trail. Deer in those woods, I hear. And wolves, if gossip is to be believed.”
“I found a heel print and other signs of human usage. The trail widened at an ancient oak tree. I followed it to a point just this side of that bald, flat-topped hill where the path joined the road to town. I think the French agent is using the tree as a drop point for messages. A courier takes the information to Napoleon and brings back the payment. By necessity, that person would have to move about and cross the Channel without being noticed, probably, a sailor or fisherman. Therefore he couldn’t frequent the house without causing comment. Using the large bole in the trunk of the tree as a drop point leaves everyone else none the wiser.”
“Or it could be a lover’s trysting place.”
Shermont shook his head. “I think we’re onto something.”
“I will notify our agent in town to watch the road and pick up anyone leaving the woods.”
“No. The courier is small potatoes. We can pick him up anytime. Our quarry is the man who leaves messages in the tree.”
“Or the woman.”
Which, of course, brought Eleanor to mind. Shermont rubbed the scar on his forehead.
“Another headache? I’ll prepare one of my herbal remedies for you,” Carl said.
Shermont nodded his thanks while he stared at the map. What route would someone from the house take to remain out of sight? Even at night the light coming from the many windows would illuminate large sections of lawn.
Carl served the tea.
“Thank you. I want to explore the area after dark. Please arrange for a tray to be brought up for dinner. Make whatever excuse you think appropriate. And let Lord Digby know not to expect me at the card table before midnight.”
After the croquet game broke up, the rest of the party drifted into the house talking about the plans for the picnic on the following day. In the grand entrance hall, two maids and a footman waited to take hats, bonnets, parasols, and shawls.
“Won’t you join us in the parlor?” Aunt Patience asked Teddy.
“As much as I would enjoy being the only thorn among so many lovely roses, estate business tears me away. If you will excuse me?” he asked with a bow.
Patience nodded, and he left. “Well, my friends. Shall I have Cook serve us tea now, or would you prefer later?“ she asked the other chaperones.
“I think we will take tea in our room,” Mrs. Holcum said for herself and her daughter. “A bit of rest is always called for after exercise.”
“Excellent idea,” Mrs. Matthews agreed. “The sun gave me a smidgen of a headache. A lie-down before dressing for dinner would be just the remedy.” She turned toward the stairs. “Come along girls.”
Fiona and Hazel followed with no enthusiasm. “Naps are for babies,” one muttered, only to be hushed by her mother.
Aunt Patience and Mrs. Holcum ascended the stairway chatting, and Beatrix trailed meekly behind.
“This is a perfect time for us to get reacquainted,” Mina said, linking her arm through Eleanor’s.
Deirdre took her free arm and they followed the others upstairs. “Yes, we want to hear everything. Tell us all about life in the Colonies. Have you seen any wild Indians?”
“Well …” Eleanor didn’t want to lie more than necessary. “I saw the Atlanta Braves … battle the Cincinnati Reds once.” The only pro baseball game she’d ever attended.
“What about Colonial men?” Mina asked. “Do they all have big bushy beards and wear bearskin clothes?”
“Don’t be silly. Americans dress like everyone else.”
Deirdre opened the door to their suite of rooms. “I had wondered if your wardrobe would be up to snuff, but at least the dress you’re wearing is reasonably up to date.” She plopped down on the green and gold settee and put her feet on the gold-tasseled hassock. “Waists are moving lower every year.”
“I’ve never seen a design like that,” Mina said, taking the place next to her sister.
“Do you like it?” Eleanor asked. She twirled in a circle, proud of her handiwork. “I designed it myself. The crisscross bodice and side pleats hide hooks, so I can dress without assistance.”
Both girls stared at her as if she’d spoken in tongues.
