Her hands came up to her cheeks and she gasped, "Oh, bless me!" Her eyes showed fear, but the black dog ducked his head, showing that he meant no harm. Her features soften to happiness. "Why, I'd know that silver streak anywhere--hullo, Major!" she beckoned to him, and he came forward, into the light and warmth and delicious smells. His tail wagged as she grabbed a bowl smelling strongly of trimmings, scraps, and bones. "Come in, I have scraps for you!"
The dog dug in, filling his belly with the scrumptious morsels. Rough, calloused hands stroked tenderly over his head as he ate. "Silly boy--doesn't Mr. Buxton feed you and the other dogs plenty?"
The hound did not comprehend the sounds she made, but he knew they meant he was safe and so was she. He ate his fill and trotted out again the night. He would watch for his person in the upstairs window, as he waited behind the bank of rose bushes. They smelled just like his person did. The strangers at the gate were all but forgotten.
Upstairs in the dining room, Agatha Dalton daintily picked over the food on her plate, chewing as her mind wandered. These seasonal holidays in Afton-by-the-Sea were once a welcome respite from the drudgery of busy home life, a space where she could take her time and spend it according to her own tastes. Lately, however, it seemed that ever since she approached an eligible age, her mother seemed keen on using this week to expand her daughter's social calendar more than Agatha felt was necessary.
Lady Dalton sipped her wine and smiled at her daughter. "Oh, Agatha!" she gushed, "Isn't it wonderful to be back in Afton-by-the-Sea for a week of total refreshment?"
Agatha stabbed a bit of pork roast and chewed slowly, giving her mother a bland nod.
"You know, I hear Lord and Lady Beauregard are living in Redcar now."
Agatha stared across the table at her brother, Thomas, placidly stuffing his face with food. He was only a year younger than she, yet her father wasn't putting any pressure on him to find a suitable spouse!
"Don't you think we should invite the Beauregards to tea?" Lady Dalton asked as no one responded. She extended a hand to her husband. "Parker, what do you think?"
Lord Dalton bit into a peach slice from the fruit cup beside the meal, and frowned, setting down his fork and wiping his mouth. "The fruit's sour," he mumbled.
Agatha allowed herself a quiet sigh. Of course her father wouldn't be much help in reining in his ambitious wife.
Lady Dalton kept her cool and beckoned the maid standing against the wall. "Pearl," she murmured, "go and fetch the confectioner's sugar, please."
Pearl curtseyed with a "Yes, Milady," and departed to the kitchens.
Agatha watched her go. Out of the seven household staff members retained for the care and maintenance of the Afton house, Pearl was the one she trusted the most--her own personal maid during these vacations. Mason, the butler, wasn't an altogether bad sort, either, and he managed things according to Lady Dalton's directions very capably. She heard Pearl squeal slightly, and Charlie--Thomas' servant who acted as footman during meals--laughed as he commenced removing the empty plates and loading them into the dumbwaiter.
Agatha thought about poor Mollie down in the kitchens, cooking and cleaning away from everyone else. She had come to them many years ago, begging for a job, but adamant that it must be in the kitchens--she had outlasted their last cook, old Mrs. Hibbins, and yet the dishes Mollie made were so vastly superior that the family didn't mind at all. The kitchen became Mollie's domain, and she cooked and cleaned all day long without complaint.
"Sugar, Milady," Pearl's face was a little flushed as she returned to the dining room. Lady Dalton accepted the sugar dish and sprinkled her fruit cup, passing it around for the rest of the family to do the same.
Thomas seized the bowl and began heaping the sugar into his dish. "I want to go into town tomorrow," he announced. "Father, can I have pocket money?"
Lord Dalton looked up from his paper. "What happened to the sum I gave you today?"
Thomas scooped a slice of fruit with a mound of sugar on it. "I spent it," he stated through a full mouth.
Agatha frowned at her brother beside her. "I thought you didn't find the model you wanted." The memory of the rude way he'd behaved in front of the kind doctor and his cheery daughter brought a deep color to her cheeks. Why was he so keen on going back, when he'd displayed an attitude that very plainly said he didn't want to be there just a few hours ago?
Thomas glared back at her. "I didn't find it--I bought other things... But the shopkeeper promised to find it for me the next time I went in." He looked back across the table at his parents. "So... can I go?"
Lady Dalton sipped from her glass with prim authority. "Tea first, Thomas," she declared. "And then perhaps we shall take an outing as a family."
Thomas groaned and flopped back, but Lady Dalton spoke with finality, so that was the way things had to be.
Agatha opened her mouth to say something, but just then, her ears caught the sound of fierce barking, and muffled screaming. A quick glance out the window revealed the shape of a large black dog scuttling down the road, just in the light of the street lamp.
Mason darted out of the room with a deep frown, and they all heard him ask, "What's all this, then?"
"HELP!" shrieked a voice, and the family in the dining hall grew very still.
Everyone heard the frantic screams of Mollie the kitchen maid echoing down the long hallway: "We've been robbed! We've been robbed!"
Chapter 3
