Adelia wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of all of that lingering in the air.
Felicia bowed her head. “Oh. Oh! Yes. Yes of course. How utterly silly of me. Oh, mama, do ignore me. You know how I like to make little fusses over nothing! I shall be down to breakfast directly. Please, let me have a moment to myself so that I might gather my thoughts.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, quite sure! Don’t bother yourself about foolish Felicia. Ignore me.”
Adelia grabbed her hand. It was warm, hot even. “I am your mother and I shall bother about you until the day that I die.”
“Or until I die, whichever is sooner.”
Adelia crushed Felicia’s fingers and found she could not reply. Felicia squeezed back and then pulled her hand free. Adelia had no choice but to let her alone. She wanted to ask about The Countess, but now was not the time. She left the room with Mrs Rush and button-holed the housekeeper as soon as they were out in the corridor.
“Is Lady Buckshaw often like this?”
“Yes, ever since – the event.”
“Which event?”
“Her trouble, my lady. Oh, forgive me, but it is not for me to speak of.”
“You must, if she won’t.”
“I cannot betray her confidence.”
“Has she a lady’s maid?” Adelia asked, thinking that would be another person who might be pressed into speaking out. But Mrs Rush shook her head.
“My lady said that she saw no need for one, that she wasn’t worth one, and Mr Knight ... well, he does all the hiring. I am not even allowed to appoint the women in the house.” Her face twisted in a sneer and Adelia could see why. The appointment of female servants was a task that ought to have fallen to the housekeeper and the lady of the house herself, not the house steward.
“This Mr Knight...” Adelia began, intending to say “...thinks rather too highly of himself.” But she stopped and had to change it to, “...is coming down the corridor. Good morning, Knight.”
“My lady. Mrs Rush. If you could excuse us, my lady, but I need to speak to Mrs Rush about a household matter.”
“Of course.” Adelia moved past them, still struck by the arrogant confidence of the servant who carried himself as if he were a gentleman. Perhaps he had been? Curious, she turned around as she got to the end of the corridor, and found herself witnessing a whispered argument between the pair. Knight was towering over Mrs Rush who was, nonetheless, resolutely uncowed, her firm jaw jutting upwards. She had been backed against the wall but she was jabbing her finger into his chest and he bent his head close to hers, snarling something into her face.
Adelia shuddered and wondered if she ought to intervene. She looked around the corner to see if anyone else was around to help her, and when she glanced back to the scene of the argument, both of them had gone.
She was deeply unsettled. She went to breakfast, and then went to find Theodore, who had not appeared at the morning meal at all.
SHE DIDN’T FIND THEODORE until late in the afternoon. He was finally hunted down in the middle rooms of the Norman tower. The whole central tower was given over to Percy’s study, library and his various collections of global artefacts. If anyone ever needed a walrus tusk or catalogue of the ferns of Central America, these were the rooms to search in. She burst into the room that was both library and study, and demanded, “Theodore! Have you been in here all day?”
“Oh, no,” he replied, looking up. He had a book in one hand and a stuffed mole in the other, as if he were reading stories to it. “I’ve just returned from Plymouth.”
“Whatever were you doing in Plymouth?”
“Making contact with a few old friends. I left you a note for you to meet me at the front door if you wished to come with me. I thought you might enjoy a trip into town.”
“Where did you leave this note?”
“On your dressing table.”
“Before or after I had dressed?”
“...ah. After you had dressed. I see. Somewhat foolish of me. Well, I am sorry, but the town is not so very far away, and we can go together tomorrow. You will love Mrs Carstairs!”
“Who? What? Why will I? Theodore, you are simply the most infuriating man. You are far further on in this conversation than I am – please remember that I do not live in your head.”
“Thank goodness for that,” he said with a smile, putting the mole down. “Neither of us should enjoy that very much, and anyway, there is very little room left over in my head.”
“Yes, because you insist on filling it with nonsense. Who is Mrs Carstairs?”
“The wife of Archie Carstairs, a friendly sort of chap I met in Plymouth, amongst others. I heard my old school friend Rhodes is kicking about the place too, though I haven’t tracked him down yet. He’s commissioner of the police now, apparently, which I find rather alarming. Never struck me as one keen on justice. Far more keen on big dinners and afternoon naps, but perhaps that’s the job when one rises high enough in the ranks. Constantly evading justice at school, was Rhodes. Ironic, really. Anyway, there’s a ball to be held on board a ship...”
“I know about that. I told you all about it yesterday. It was actually a major topic of conversation at dinner. Were you not listening?”
“Of course I was; I thought that we mostly spoke about lapis lazuli, didn’t we?”
“Theodore – can we return to the matter of Mrs Carstairs?” She was about to burst with exasperation.
“Yes, yes, right.” He sat down on a wooden chair but kept hold of the book. “She is
