“This reporter finds it cause for concern that Mr. Landis, presumably with nothing to hide, declined to comment.”
Jaw clenched, Drew tossed the paper onto the breakfast table. What absolute and utter swine reporters could be. He stopped to have a quick word with Denny and then went out to the Rolls. A few minutes later, he was at Farlinford Processing, being waved through by Landis’s secretary, who was in the middle of a telephone conversation.
He knocked briskly on the frame of Landis’s open office door. “Might I have a word?”
Landis was immediately on his feet. “Certainly, certainly. Come in, Mr. Farthering.”
Drew shut the door behind him and sat in the chair Landis offered. “I understand you’ve had some unpleasantness with the press.”
“I’m afraid so.” Landis sank back down into his own chair. “I suppose some of them must be decent enough chaps, but there were three or four yesterday afternoon who were rather unpleasant. I ask you, on a Sunday hardly outside the church?”
Drew frowned. Rather unpleasant indeed. “I’m sorry.”
“And I had my boy with me. They scared him enough to make him cry, poor little fellow.”
“Oh, I say, that is too bad. I, ah, I don’t suppose you have someplace you and the boy could go? Just to keep out of the public eye, as it were. Until things have calmed a bit.”
Landis shrugged. “Not really. I haven’t any family even remotely close, save the uncle I told you about. Neither has my wife. But we’ll do well enough. I have my work to do, of course, and I don’t want to be too far from where they’re keeping Fleur until all of this is put right.”
“And Peter?”
“He’s got his nurse to look after him. She’s a good girl, devoted to him, you know.”
“It would be a shame, though, to have the little fellow kept indoors all the time because of these reporters.”
Drew had already thought this all out. Landis shouldn’t have to go through this on top of what was happening with his wife. And there was the child to be thought of.
“You know, Landis, you and the boy might come and stay with us at Farthering Place until all this is settled.”
Landis blinked. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly consider—”
“Why not?” Drew asked, a smile spreading across his face. “You’d still be close enough to the office and to Mrs. Landis. No one would bother you there. They needn’t even know where you are.”
“We’d be a terrible nuisance,” Landis said, shaking his head. “It’s grand of you to offer, I’m sure, but—”
“But what? We’ve just acres of spare rooms. Lots of places for the boy to play. Does he like animals?”
“Keen on them,” Landis admitted. “But Fleur doesn’t care to have them about the house.”
“Well, we have dogs and horses and several cats. Sheep and cattle, as well. They could all do with some attention, I daresay.”
“But we have no way of knowing how long it might be.” Landis shook his head again. “Clifton says sometimes it takes weeks to sort these things out. Months even.”
“All the more reason to come,” Drew said. “At least for a while. In time, no doubt, there will be a shiny new intrigue for the press to chase after, and you and young Peter can go back home, none the worse for wear. What do you say?”
Landis studied him for a moment, no doubt trying to gauge his sincerity. “Have you ever had a four-year-old living at Farthering Place?”
Drew chuckled. “Well, Nick and I, we were both four-year-olds there, at the same time too, and the old thing’s still standing. I imagine Master Landis can’t do the place much harm.”
“I warn you, there’s not much he won’t try to climb. I’ve thought he might give me heart failure a time or two, and those are just the instances I’ve been told about. I daresay Miss Winston has spared me more than what she’s told.”
“Miss Winston, I take it, is his nursemaid?”
“Yes. Been with us four years now. She’d have to come with Peter, of course, if that suits. He’d hardly know what to do without her.”
“Certainly,” Drew said. “I suppose you’ll have a valet to bring along, as well.”
Landis laughed. “I’d hardly know what to do without him.”
“It’s a scandal, I know, but I’ve only recently taken on one myself,” Drew admitted. “I’m afraid he’s spoilt me already for seeing to things on my own.”
“It happens,” Landis said with a chuckle. “Harper has me hardly knowing where my socks are kept. But he’s a good fellow. As conscientious as you could wish.”
“Well, then ring him up. Tell him to pack what you’ll need for at least a week or two, and the same for Master Landis and Miss Winston. Then have them pop round to Farthering Place. We’ll be most pleased to have you all.”
“It’s awfully good of you. I can’t thank you enough. But are you certain it will be all right? I know you and Miss Parker are planning your wedding. I shouldn’t like to interfere or anything.”
“No trouble at all. You know how brides are. They want the groom to be involved in every step of wedding planning, so long as he doesn’t actually make any decisions.”
“True enough,” Landis said. “I’m thankful that Fleur wanted only a quiet affair at the registrar’s office. I was never much one for a fuss.”
“Ah, well, if the bride is pleased, the groom need worry about nothing else. Now, you will come stay at Farthering Place, won’t you? At least for a time?”
“Provided that, the moment we become a nuisance, you promise to send us all packing,” Landis insisted. “Are we agreed?”
“Done and done.”
The two of them shook hands on the bargain.
Eleven
Landis and the others made their way to Farthering Place the next morning. Drew had spent most of the day with Nick and Mr. Padgett, seeing to some estate business, so he didn’t see them arrive. And when he got back home late that afternoon, the only sign of their presence was the Landis Daimler parked in the drive.
Once he had ascertained that everyone was happily settled and that Madeline and Aunt Ruth had not yet returned from another of their shopping ventures, he settled on the parlor sofa with Madeline’s copy of Police at the Funeral. He hadn’t been overly impressed with the first Campion tale, but the sleuth had been just a minor character in that one. The next two books had been proper corkers, and this one was off to a whale of a start. If he could manage even half an hour’s uninterrupted reading, he would count himself blessed.
He had gotten through only about three pages when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like unsuccessful tiptoeing. He peered around the edge of his book and into a pair of very blue eyes.
“Well, hello there.”
The blue eyes blinked at him, and then the golden-haired little boy drew himself up very straight and put out his hand. “Good afternoon, sir. My name is Peter William Landis, and I am very pleased to meet you.”
Holding back a chuckle at the piping small voice, Drew put his book aside and stood up to shake the boy’s hand. “Master Landis, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Ellison Andrew Farthering.”
The boy blinked at him again, clearly unsure, now that he had done as he had been taught, what he should do next.
Drew gave him an encouraging smile. “Is there something I can do for you, Master Landis?”
Peter looked at him for a moment, and then with a careful glance toward the door he lowered his voice. “Did you know there’s a kitty hiding in your house?”
Drew pretended to be shocked. “There is? Well, we’d better find it, hadn’t we? What does it look like?”
“It’s very little,” Peter said, holding his hands about six inches apart. “It’s white and has blue eyes just like me.”
“Ah, that would be Mr. Chambers, I expect.”
“Mr. Chambers?”
“Yes. He lives here, you know.”
“In your house?”
“Yes.”
> The blue eyes got bigger. “Your mummy lets you keep him in your house?”
Drew gave him a slightly rueful smile and sat down again. “My mother isn’t with me any longer.”
“Did she go to stay somewhere else?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“My mummy went on a trip, too.” Peter crawled up onto the sofa and settled next to Drew. “But she will be back anytime now.”
Drew gave the boy his most reassuring look. “That will be nice, won’t it?”
Peter frowned a little, thinking. “When will your mummy come back?”
“Not ever, I’m afraid,” Drew said gently.
“Did she . . . ?” Peter glanced back at the open door, and once again lowered his voice. “Did she get dead?”
Drew nodded.
“Did her boat sink in the ocean?”
“No.” Drew put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you know someone whose ship sank?”
“Colin used to have the garden next to ours. His mummy and daddy did. Then when they got dead, he had to live with his aunt ’Lizbeth, and now we can’t play anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He had a dog that lived in his house.” Peter leaned against Drew’s knee, blue eyes bright. “Will you play with me?”
“Won’t someone be looking for you just about now?”
The boy’s smile turned mischievous. “Nurse has her half day, and the other lady falled asleep.”
“I see.” Drew grinned back, standing once more. “Very well. Shall we see if Mr. Chambers would like to join us? Now, be very, very still and quiet for a moment. Can you do that?”
Peter nodded and, hands clasped together, stood stock-still. Drew reached into his pocket and jingled his keys. Almost at once the curtain rippled, and the tip of a tiny pink nose poked out from under it. Quick as he could, Drew stepped over to the door and pushed it closed. Now at least the little rogue couldn’t lead them on a merry chase all over the house.
“Don’t be difficult now,” Drew said, moving closer to the curtain on silent feet. “Come along and play.”
He was almost in reach now, and he held the keys out toward the kitten. Mesmerized, Chambers stretched out his neck so his nose was almost touching the glittery prize. Drew brought his free hand down, trapping him in the curtains. Peter squealed and bounced toward them, and Mr. Chambers hissed, digging his claws into Drew’s arm.
Drew gritted his teeth as he untangled Mr. Chambers from the curtain and from his sleeve. Then he carried the squirming feline over to the sofa and sat down, holding him in his lap, making sure he wasn’t in a position to scratch again. Peter came closer and put his face on the same level as the kitten’s.
“My name is Peter William Landis, but I think you can call me Peter.”
“On a first name basis already,” Drew said. “How can that bode but well?”
“May I pet him?” Peter touched his hand to the back of Mr. Chambers’s head, looking concerned. “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Chambers. I love you.”
The kitten made a squeaking mew.
“What did he say?” Peter asked. “Do you know?”
“Well, I believe, if I’ve translated properly, he said you might pet him once more, very gently, and then we’d best let him go.”
Peter touched one white ear, making it twitch. “Will he come back later? I won’t hurt him.”
Drew gave the little boy his keys. “You show him those, and he won’t go too far. Just don’t let him get too excited and scratch you.”
The minute Drew released him, Mr. Chambers dove back into the curtains. With a giggle, Peter ran to him and dropped to his knees, jingling Drew’s keys and then running them under the curtain again. Mr. Chambers popped out, ears forward and eyes round. Peter shrieked and dropped the keys, looking equally terrified and delighted. Then there was a knock at the parlor door, and the kitten darted back into his hiding place.
Drew stood up, pocketing his keys. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Denny peered into the room. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Beryl . . . Ah. Master Landis. I will tell Beryl to dry her tears.”
“Mr. Dennison,” said an unfamiliar-but-worried voice from the hallway. “They told me Peter is missing.”
“In here, miss.”
Denny stepped back from the doorway, and a young woman rushed in. Her brown eyes were flooded with relief when she saw Peter sitting on the floor. “There you are!”
“We were playing with the kitty,” the boy piped.
The woman hurried over to take Peter’s hand, smiling and apologetic. “You must be Mr. Farthering. I’m terribly sorry. We didn’t mean to be a nuisance.”
“Nonsense. The little chap and I were getting along famously.” Drew held out his hand. “Miss Winston, is it?”
She dropped a brief curtsy and shook his hand. “Yes, sir. It’s my half day. Your maid Beryl was supposed to be looking after the boy. I warned her that Peter’s fond of exploring when left to his own devices.”
Drew laughed softly. “Hunting this time, I believe. Big-game cats.”
“He’s all white and he lives in the house and his name is Mr. Chambers and I love him,” Peter said, not stopping to take a breath.
“You mustn’t bother Mr. Farthering again, Peter,” the nursemaid told him, only a hint of scolding in her tone. “He’s very busy.”
“No, no,” Drew assured her again, and she abruptly scooped the boy up into her arms.
“Peter, Peter.” She kissed his golden hair and cuddled him close. “I was afraid something had happened to you. And then it would be all my fault because I left you.”
He patted her face with one little hand. “I’m sorry I leaved the other lady. But she was ’sleep and so I couldn’t tell her when I went to find the kitty.”
“And what do you suppose your daddy would say if you went away from us? He would be very, very sad.”
The boy bit his lower lip. “I don’t want Daddy to be sad.”
“Neither do I,” she said, and then she smiled uncertainly at Drew. “The poor little mite. Mr. Landis dotes on him so.”
“I saw that the first time we met,” Drew said. “It’s one of the things I liked best about him.”
Miss Winston’s expression was shy and earnest all at once. “I felt the same way when I first came to work for him and Mrs. Landis. So many men have no time for their children. Believe me, in my line of work, I know.”
Drew studied her for a moment. She wasn’t as young as he had first thought. A bit past thirty perhaps. Pleasant looking enough, but certainly no great beauty. Not like her mistress. But there was a gentle sweetness in her face that was very appealing, and Peter clearly adored her.
“How long have you been looking after our big-game hunter here?” Drew tapped Peter’s nose, and the boy giggled, snuggling into the nursemaid’s neck and then squirming to be put down.
“Nearly four years now,” Miss Winston replied as she set him back on his feet. “Stay right here. Do you understand, Peter?”
The boy nodded, eyes eager, and then started crawling down toward the bottom of the curtain, no doubt looking for the kitten again.
“He was such a little fellow when I first came to the Landises,” the woman told Drew. “They were afraid for a time that he wouldn’t make it past his first year. I had some nursing experience during the war. Of course, minding an infant isn’t quite the same as patching up soldiers, but it still came in handy with the baby.”
Drew could hardly imagine the meek woman in the bloody aftermath of battle. “You must have been quite young then,” he observed, and a blush touched her cheeks.
“I told them I was eighteen when I wasn’t even seventeen quite yet.” She looked up at him, her brown eyes earnest. “But I did so want to help. All those men with no one to look after them after they had risked everything to keep us all safe. I had to help them.”
“And your parents didn’t mind?”
“Oh, I hadn’t
any. I was raised in an orphans’ home. I couldn’t wait to leave it.”
He smiled a little. “Even without official permission?”
She shrugged, turning pinker. “They had plenty of children who actually needed to be looked after by then, and not that much space or resources. I really was grown up, you know. I had been taking care of the little ones at the home since I was ten or so. One thing I can thank them for is preparing me to make my own living.”
“Always a good thing, I’d say. And how do you like working for the Landises?”
She gave Peter a fond glance as he lifted a corner of the heavy curtain and then tried unsuccessfully to push aside the lace sheers so he could look for Mr. Chambers.
“It’s quite a good place actually. Peter’s a darling. I can’t imagine having a better child to look after. He tries so hard to please, though he does tend to climb things he ought not.”
Drew chuckled. “So Mr. Landis told me. I suppose there are worse traits for a child to have.”
Miss Winston nodded. “It only means being a bit more careful in watching him. I expect he’ll grow out of it one day.”
“Or become the first to reach the top of Mount Everest.”
“There is that,” she said, and her laugh was rich and sweet.
Peter looked up at her, smiling because she was happy, and Drew smiled, too. He was certainly an appealing child.
“He does favor his mother,” Drew observed. “Apart from the blue eyes and fair hair. Though I understand she was blond as a child, as well.”
“Did she tell you that?” The nursemaid laughed. “Helen, that’s her personal maid, she told me that Mrs. Landis’s great-grandmother was a full-blooded Sikh brought back to London by one of Queen Victoria’s soldiers sometime in the 1850s. That’s where she gets those black eyes and black hair. She was never fair-haired, not even as a baby. I’ve seen photographs. And that name of hers. Fleur? She was born Florence Eugenia Frye. Florrie Frye? Can you imagine? No wonder she changed it.”
She looked down when Peter flung himself against her skirts. “Can you find the kitty for me, Winnie? I think he’s runned away.”
Miss Winston gave him a severe look. “Now, Peter, what have I told you about interrupting when grown-ups are talking? Please ask Mr. Farthering to excuse you.”
Murder at the Mikado Page 14
