Madi's chin began to tremble, and tears welled in her eyes. She turned to her father and beseeched him. "Please? Can we stay just a few more days? Please, Dad?"
Grove didn't answer right away. True, he was rather fascinated, himself, by Celian and his dual nature—but at the same time, being a responsible working adult and a father also weighed heavily on his conscience.
"Well," he said slowly, after a very long pause, "all right. Just till the end of the week."
Madi leaped from her seat and threw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you!" She squealed.
"But!" The Doctor continued, before she could wheedle any more concessions out of him, "not a day more!"
Madi sat up and nodded. "We leave right away, I won't beg for any delays! Oh, thank you!"
The three of them left the hotel to return to the cottage. Madi bounced hand-in-hand with her father, only pausing when she noticed Celian stop at the door of the cottage. He turned and looked toward the beach with a wistful expression.
Madi took his large hand in hers. "Is something wrong?" She asked.
A small quirk danced around his lips. "You speak as if Miss Agatha is a character in one of your fairy stories, that she might actually fall in love with me in the next few days."
Madeline grinned at her dark-haired friend. "With as much time as the two of you have been spending together every day, and the look on your face every time you return, I would not be surprised to find she already has!" The young girl declared, marching into the cottage.
Celian regarded her, mulling over her words for several moments. A simple smile lifted his features, and he ducked into the cottage after his hosts.
A small gust of wind followed Agatha inside as she whirled through the door of Dalton House that evening. She whipped off her hat and furiously jerked at the buttons on her coat as she sailed toward the stairs. Just down the hall, Tom emerged from the billiard room where he would spend most of his days in the last week. Agatha practically tripped over the first step as she wrestled with the last button at the same time as she tried to ascend the stairs casually.
Too late! She locked eyes with Tom, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Where've you been?" He demanded.
Agatha caught the edge of her lip between her teeth. "Out," she said.
Tom stared askance. "Where?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh for heaven's sake, Thomas! The thieves are dead, the family fortune recovered—it's not as if we are still quarantined!"
"Agatha? Is that you?" Lady Dalton appeared at the top of the stairs, resplendent in her floral tea-length dress. She waved a lace handkerchief clutched in her gloved hand. "Darling! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Before Agatha could rescue the situation and continue to her room, her mother sailed down the half-flight and met her daughter. "You'll never believe who stopped by this morning: George Drake! Apparently he has not been arrested for gambling debts, because they let him off on a technicality and I wish you would have seen the car he drove up in! One of those new convertibles."
Tom nodded behind her. "A Daimler Conquest roadster," he said. "Six cylinders, shiny candy-apple red, very dandy."
Agatha sidled past her mother. "Hmm, what a shame..." she muttered vaguely.
"Oh come now," Lady Dalton flapped her kerchief. "Where could you possibly have gone?"
"She won't say!" Tom inserted before Agatha could frame a satisfactory excuse.
Lady Dalton blinked. "Whyever not? Agatha, you're not..." her grand voice faltered, "...you know..." a slow, delicate blush colored her face.
Agatha didn't even want to try guessing what her mother wasn't saying. "I just went out, is all!" She protested.
"But where?" Thomas took the opportunity to repeat his question. "Somewhere in town? In that case, the least you could have done was ask in the general store to see if they've gotten a delivery of those model trains I like!"
Agatha squinted at her brother. "Trains?"
Thomas shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I saw them in there the last time we went shopping, before..." he waved his hand nebulously. "All that happened, but when I sent Charlie down the other day, the shopkeeper told him there had been an accident and some crazy had smashed a whole shelf of items!" He huffed and frowned. "This town has gotten worse this year."
Lady Dalton pinched her lips to express her disapproval. "I quite agree, Thomas. His Lordship and I have talked of quitting this house altogether, now that the kitchen wall has been repaired."
Agatha felt her heart flip. "We're leaving?" Her words came out in a frantic squeak.
Her mother and brother stared at her in confusion tinged with derision.
"What's got into you?" Tom sneered.
"Not immediately!" Lady Dalton replied. "Besides, I thought you were convinced there was nothing here for you." Coolly, she tucked a stray wisp of silver hair back into her coiffure. "No, I am referring to next holiday. We likely won't be back here again!" Her eyes wandered to the spot that had once been stained with the blood dripping from the insane maid's hands. Lady Dalton shuddered. "Anyhow, Agatha," she continued before her daughter could escape completely, "I want you to take an early tea with me. The Martins are coming to visit, and you simply must be there!"
Agatha sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Tomorrow? Oh Mother, I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because, I—" How could she see Celian again? She definitely preferred his company to young Master Martin's; but the "tea" was liable to stretch clear into supper, and there was no way now for her to get a message to tell him not to come–—she couldn't bear thinking of him standing on the beach, waiting, thinking she had abandoned him! "I wanted to go out tomorrow!"
"Out?" Echoed her mother. "Where would you go? I am sure Jacob would be delighted to accompany you."
Jacob! Meet Celian? Heavens! "I wanted to explore
