“Do excuse me for a moment, Your Highness,” said Eudora Telford with a kind of crumpled dignity. “I think I have something in my room that might assist you.”
“Good work, Melissande,” said Gerald softly, as soon as Eudora Telford had left the parlour. “You’ve got her, I think.”
“And I think I need a bath,” said Melissande, just as softly, with a shiver of distaste. “ Honestly. That poor, silly, gullible woman! I’m as bad as Permelia Wycliffe, taking advantage of her like that.”
“Oh, give it a rest, ducky,” said Reg. “You’re only doing what needs to be done.”
“She’s right, Mel,” said Monk. “You don’t have a choice. And you’re being as kind as you can. So don’t-”
“Shut up everyone,” hissed Bibbie, who’d leapt up to keep watch at the half-closed parlour door. “She’s coming back.”
A moment later Eudora Telford returned, a small black pouch in one hand and a piece of folded paper in the other. Resuming her seat, she clutched them in her lap.
“Permelia called me,” she said, her voice unsteady. “She begged me to help her. She said I was the only person in the world whom she could trust.”
“And of course you said yes,” said Melissande, her voice gently encouraging. “You said you’d love to help.”
Eudora Telford nodded. “I always help Permelia. We’ve been friends since childhood. That’s what friendship is, isn’t it? Relying on each other. Knowing there’ll always be someone there to help you.”
“Ha,” Reg muttered. “ She calls it friendship. I call it being a dogsbody at the beck and call of a domestic tyrant.”
Gerald agreed, but twitched his shoulder again. The last thing they needed was for Eudora Telford to hear Reg’s sarcastic running commentary.
“That’s certainly how I always think of friendship, yes,” said Melissande. “So, Eudora, when Permelia called you… what exactly did she say?”
Eudora cleared her throat. “She-she told me Ambrose had done something very foolish, and that if anyone found out about it he’d get into terrible trouble. She wouldn’t tell me what it was that he’d done, and naturally I didn’t ask. I just promised to do whatever I could to help him.” She blushed. “There was a time once, many years ago now, when Ambrose and I-but alas. It was not to be. Ambrose had a higher calling.”
“The family company,” said Melissande, nodding. “Of course. How noble of you, Eudora, to give Ambrose his freedom like that. Few women would be so self-sacrificing.”
Fresh tears glimmered in Eudora Telford’s eyes. “I loved him,” she whispered. “What else could I do?”
Melissande cleared her throat. “Nothing, of course,” she said, her voice husky. “All right. So Permelia called you. What happened next?”
“I went to see her,” said Eudora. “She gave me this pouch and these instructions and swore me to secrecy. Oh dear…”
“And then you went all the way to South Ott,” Melissande said quickly, before Eudora Telford changed her mind. “To meet with someone on Permelia’s behalf. Is that right?”
Eudora Telford nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“South Ott’s not a very nice part of town, Eudora,” said Bibbie. “Even I was a bit nervous going there, and I’m a witch.”
Eudora Telford nodded. “Yes, it was rather frightening,” she said unhappily. “But Permelia was so worried she’d be recognised, which would cause more trouble for Ambrose, and-and-she asked me. Friends do things for friends. How could I say no?”
Gerald found himself glancing at Reg, and then Monk, who raised an eyebrow in wry resignation. Eudora Telford was right. Friends did do things for friends. How could they criticise the silly woman after the risks they’d taken?
“Yes, well,” sighed Melissande. “It mightn’t have been terribly sensible of you to go off like that alone, Eudora, but I’m not going to fault you for your loyalty.” Reaching out, she touched her fingertips to the woman’s knee. “Have you any idea what’s in that pouch?”
Eudora Telford shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. No. Permelia told me I mustn’t open it.”
“I understand. But I think I should open it, Eudora. I think I need to see what’s inside. And I need to know what she wrote in that note, too.” Melissande held out her hand. “May I?”
Gerald held his breath, and heard a little gasp as Reg held hers too. If Eudora Telford got cold feet… if she decided not to betray Permelia Wycliffe’s confidence…
Now they were all holding their breath, staring at poor Miss Eudora Telford-who should never have been put in this awful position.
“Oh dear,” she said, and handed over both note and small black pouch.
Melissande briefly closed her eyes. “Thank you, Eudora.” In silence she unfolded the note and pretended to be reading it for the very first time. When she was finished she looked at Eudora Telford, her face grave. “I don’t suppose you’ve listened to your wireless this morning?”
“No,” said Eudora Telford. “The knob’s broken and I can’t aff-that’s to say, I haven’t had time to get it fixed.”
“Then you wouldn’t have heard. Soon after we left South Ott last night there was an explosion, Eudora. In an old, abandoned boot factory. One man was killed. His name was Haf Rottlezinder.”
Eudora Telford turned parchment pale. “But-but-”
“Yes, Eudora,” said Bibbie. “That might’ve been you if we hadn’t convinced you to leave with us.”
For a moment it looked as though Eudora Telford might faint. “Oh-oh, I do feel unwell.”
Bibbie snapped her fingers at Monk. “You there. Factotum. Run to Miss Telford’s kitchen and bring her a glass of water. Well? What are you gaping at, you silly man? Go!”
Glaring at his impossible sister, Monk went.
Melissande was holding Eudora Telford’s hand again. “Deep breaths, Eudora. I know it’s an awful shock.”
“Give me the pouch, Your Highness,” said Bibbie. “Let’s see what Permelia-I mean, Miss Wycliffe-wanted you to give the late Haf Rottlezinder.”
Melissande handed over the pouch. Bibbie opened it… upended it… and a stream of gemstones poured into her cupped hand.
“ Mercy!” gasped Eudora Telford. “Do you mean to say I was carrying a fortune in precious stones on my person?”
Bibbie was frowning at the sparkling diamonds, rubies and sapphires. “Actually…” She tipped the gemstones into her lap, stripped off one glove and plunged her bare fingers into the bounty. “Hmmm,” she murmured, wearing an expression like a chef tasting soup. “Let me see…”
Gerald half-closed his eyes and extended his thaumic senses. Damn. Bibbie was definitely onto something.
Monk returned with the glass of water for Eudora Telford. Catching his eye, Gerald nodded to the puddle of gemstones in Bibbie’s lap. Monk dropped one eyelid in a wink, gave Eudora the glass then clumsily turned and knocked into his sister, scattering the gemstones on the carpet.
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Miss, I’m sorry!” he cried in a dreadful parody of a working-class accent, dropping to his knees. “Let me get ’em for you, I’ll pick ’em up, let me!”
“Honestly,” said Bibbie. “Good factotums are so hard to find.”
Melissande was staring, eyebrows raised high. Gerald pulled a warning face at her then looked at Monk, who was tipping the last of the diamonds back into the pouch Bibbie held out for him. As he got off his knees he gave his head the smallest shake, then flicked his sister a meaningful look. Bibbie dropped one eyelid in an acknowledging wink.
“Actually, Eudora, these gemstones are fake,” she said. “Good enough to-ah-fool a lay-person,” she added, with an apologetic glance at Melissande. “But I’m afraid any wizard worth his salt would’ve immediately detected them as forgeries.”
“ Forgeries?” said Eudora Telford and leapt to her feet. The glass of water slid through her fingers, splashing her skirt then rolling under the chair. “Oh, Your Highness,” she whispered, hands pressed to her breast. “Oh, Miss Markham! I hope you don’t think that-I would never — I wouldn’t know how to-” Overcome, she burst
