“Well, you young people go on with your chat. I have some things to see to. I still haven’t decided where we’re going to have the play. It’s Mrs. Inchbald’s Lovers’ Vows. You know, from Mansfield Park. We really could have nothing more suited, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure it will be just perfect,” Madeline said.
Drew gave her a private glower. She was definitely smirking.
“I do hope so.” Mrs. Cummins turned to the vicar. “I haven’t forgotten the box I promised you, Vicar. What with everyone staying the week, I got a bit behind on packing things up, but not to worry.”
“Very good of you as always, ma’am,” Broadhurst said. “I don’t know how I’d carry on without you.”
Mrs. Cummins looked flustered. “There’s little enough each of us can do, but if we each do something, it adds up, doesn’t it?”
“It does. And I don’t doubt all your efforts will be given their due reward.”
“You haven’t seen Alice anywhere about, have you, Mother?” Tal asked.
“She was seeing to some things in the kitchen, I believe.” Mrs. Cummins frowned. “Shall I go look for her?”
“Here I am.” Alice came up to Tal’s side and put her arm through his. “Sorry, everyone. From here on out I shall do nothing but enjoy myself.”
She was dressed now in a prim muslin gown, her close-fitting jacket as blue as her small velvet slippers and the silk band around the fair hair piled in Grecian ringlets on top of her head. She was quite pretty in a waifish sort of way, though her eyes were almost too big for her heart-shaped little face.
Tal slipped his arm around her waist. “Good. That’s what you’re meant to do, you know.”
“But after the party, after the ball on Saturday night, I think you ought to start helping your mother more. She has so much to do all the time.”
Mrs. Cummins patted her arm. “You’re a dear, Alice, but you know Tibby . . . er, I mean Talbot isn’t interested in that sort of thing. His father’s always good about helping me, though, especially with the charity things, but I’d say he’s the exception rather than the rule where men are concerned.”
“Do you need my help, Mother?” Tal asked. “All you need do is ask.”
“No, no, love. Leave me to my puttering about. You’ll have enough to see to once you and Alice are married.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t help with your charity piles.”
“Nonsense,” Cummins blustered as he joined them. “Woman’s work!”
The vicar cleared his throat. “Steady on now.”
“No offense, Padre,” Cummins said good-naturedly. “Still, the boy’s got company and all. No need for him to worry over such things, eh?”
“No, no,” Broadhurst said. “Nothing he need worry over at all. I’ll see it’s all taken care of as usual.”
“But Tal . . .” Alice began, a little pucker between her fine brows.
“No more worry about the workaday world,” Cummins said. “Tal will have enough to do just showing you off to our guests this week. And I’m certain our vicar will see to the needs of the flock.” Cummins gave Broadhurst a nod and turned to his wife. “Time for tea, old girl?”
“Yes, I believe it is.” Mrs. Cummins raised her voice just slightly. “Shall we all go in to tea, ladies and gentlemen?”
After dinner, when most everyone was playing cards, Drew sauntered over to where Will was slouching against the library’s grand marble fireplace, watching Nick and Carrie as they sat on the love seat looking at a collection of Byron’s poems.
“It’s not so sickening when it’s you who’s in love,” Drew told him. “Wait and see.”
The boy wrinkled his nose. The lovebirds had their heads together, almost cheek to cheek. There might have been no one else in the room.
“What is it you really object to about Nick?” Drew asked. “He really is a capital fellow, you know. I couldn’t do without him, especially when it comes to solving crimes.”
Will grinned abruptly. “Carrie told me about that. Too bad she and that Muriel Brower left before any of the good stuff happened last year. You must be pretty keen to have figured that all out. And those other murders, too.”
“Sometimes one stumbles upon a clue and puts two and two together.”
“I read all about it,” Will said, a bright eagerness in his eyes. “Carrie made Dad send for the newspapers from over here so she could read about it firsthand. How come that cop who was on all the cases didn’t throw you out on your ear? The guy with the funny name.”
“You mean Birdsong?” Drew asked. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but the chief inspector is a very practical man and appreciates free labor when he can get it. But you know, Nick’s been in on most of it right with me. And my Madeline, of course.”
Again Will frowned. “And then she moved over here to stay. Why couldn’t you have moved back over to the States?”
“I couldn’t very well leave my estate,” Drew said. “And her family home had been sold off ages ago. She likes it over here. It’s not so very horrid a place, is it?”
“It’s all right, I guess.” Will gave a grudging shrug and looked down at the cravat that stuck out under his chin. “I didn’t think I’d have to take dancing lessons or wear this silly stuff. I wanted to see the castles and where the battles were fought and all that. Carrie says we will before we have to go home, but I don’t know when since we have to waste a week here.”
“I understand this isn’t a pleasure trip for you,” Drew said, looking over at Nick and Carrie. “Very important business, chaperoning.”
Will immediately turned his attention to them, his expression fierce. “I guess I’ve got better things to do than look at old castles anyway.”
“Look here, old man, I’ll make you a bargain. You let your sister enjoy herself this week and don’t be too strict, and I’ll make sure you both get the grand tour of Winchester Castle where they’ve got King Arthur’s Round Table and Winchester Cathedral to boot.” Drew tugged the boy’s lapel. “And no dress-up required.”
Will glanced toward the lovebirds again. “I don’t know—”
“I’ve known old Nick since we were both in the nursery. If I had a sister of my own, I wouldn’t think twice about letting her spend time with him. He’s not one of these Lothario johnnies you can’t turn your back on.”
“Maybe not, but you know how girls are. They get all googly-eyed over a silly accent.”
Drew chuckled. “Well, she seems sufficiently level-headed, and if she’s not, Nick is. I can tell you, it was good to have him with me when we were looking into those killings at Farthering Place.”
“I guess so. I’d sure like to hear more about how you did that.”
Drew shook his head. “Couldn’t have done it without old Nick, you know. Just ask him.”
“Ask me what?” Nick sauntered up to them and helped himself to a piece of cake and a cup of punch from the trolley nearby. “Would you like to know about sheep, drains, or repairing thatch on cottage roofs?”
Will scowled again. “How do I know you weren’t just talking big when you wrote to Carrie about solving those murders?”
Nick grinned. “If I told her anything, it was that Drew here was the mastermind and I only his dim-but-loyal minion. I can’t possibly be responsible for what she may have told you in consequence.”
“Where is she anyway?” Will asked, scanning the room again.
“Oh, she and Mrs. Farthering went to the powder room or something. You know how ladies are. Always something to touch up or adjust or see to.”
Will frowned, looking him over for a moment. “All right, since they’re out of the way for a minute, I want to know what your plans are for my sister. She’s a lady, and don’t you think anything else.”
Nick held up both hands. “I haven’t the slightest doubt of that. A lady and a fine one, as well.”
The boy narrowed his eyes and gave a grudging nod. “All right. Just don’t forget it.”
>
“Friends then?” Nick held out his hand, but Will only glowered at it. “Well, shake it or snap at it, old man. Either way we’ll know where we stand.”
Will’s lips twitched, and a little snort of a laugh escaped him as he shook Nick’s hand. “I guess you’re all right enough. But I’ll be keeping my eye on you all the same.”
“Sounds fair. And in return I’ll tell you all about the body in the greenhouse. How’s that?”
The boy glanced at Drew. “Really? That’d be keen.”
Drew nodded over Will’s shoulder. “Some other time, though. I think the ladies would prefer not to hear it.”
Madeline and Carrie were headed toward them, and Will gulped. “She’s got that ‘what have you been up to’ look on her face. I’d better go tame her down.” He darted over to his sister.
Drew laughed. “A narrow escape that, Nick, my lad.”
“I quite like him,” Nick said. “Takes his chaperoning seriously.”
Drew considered for a moment. “What do you think, old man, shall we show him how it’s done?” He made sure the boy was still talking to his sister and to Madeline. “Firsthand and all?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he seems rather keen on the mysteries we’ve been involved in. Say we were to provide one for him to help us with. One where you could play the hero and win the lad’s admiration and acceptance into the family.”
“Family? I don’t—”
“Don’t deny it. I’ve seen how the girl looks at you. And being the renowned amateur sleuth I am, I know how many beans make five.”
Nick shrugged, obviously trying not to look too pleased. “That’s not so much to go on.”
“That and the tone of her voice when she talks about you are fairly conclusive. With that kind of evidence, Chief Inspector Birdsong would feel confident in making an arrest.”
One corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “Well, suppose you’re right. Will is obviously not having any of it. Do you really think we can change his mind? We can’t exactly arrange a murder or something vulgar like that.”
“No, but perhaps a minor theft is in order.” Drew thought for a moment. “The Mystery of the Bride’s Pearls?”
Nick nodded wisely. “So you’ve decided to have Madeline strangle you as you sleep?”
“Not to worry. She’ll be in on it from the start, and I daresay glad to help. And the Farthering pearls will be returned to her without a scratch.”
Madeline came to Drew’s side and took his arm. “What did you say about my pearls?”
“He knows how many beans make five,” Nick told her, sounding rather proud.
“All right,” Madeline said, “I’ll bite. How many beans make five?”
Drew grinned. “One bean, two beans, a bean and a half, and half a bean.”
Madeline pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I find that singularly unhelpful. What does that have to do with my pearls?”
He filled her in on the scheme they had in mind. “What do you think, darling? Shall we give it a go? We’ll make rather a fuss about the pearls being missing, and then after Will’s had a chance to help us question suspects and that sort of thing, we’ll help him deduce they fell behind the bureau or something. He and Nick can become great friends in the process, and by the time the necklace is safely back in your jewel case, he’ll have forgotten he ever had any objections to having an English brother-in-law.”
She gave him that particular arch look that told him she was trying not to smile. “But you’d better not tell Carrie it’s a setup. She’s always been terrible at carrying off this kind of thing, and she’d give us away in the first five minutes.”
Nick’s mouth turned down. “I rather thought she’d be in it with us.”
Madeline patted his arm. “Don’t you worry. It’ll be fun for her, too. And she won’t mind when we tell her we made it up. Especially if you and Will become friends because of it.”
“He might not like being deceived, and then what will happen to our hard-won amity?”
Drew thought for a moment. “All right, so we tell them both it’s a game.”
“Better yet,” Madeline said, eyes shining, “Carrie and I will hide the pearls, and you and Nick and Billy can see who finds them first.”
Drew frowned. “I’m not sure that actually helps, darling. We want Will and Nick to be friends, not rivals.”
“All right. Nick and Billy can work together to outwit the famous amateur sleuth. He’s got to love that. What do you think?”
“You and Carrie, eh? Feel up to it, old man?”
Nick snickered. “You know they’ll likely hand us our hats.”
“I say let them try.” Drew looked at Madeline. “All right, darling, you and Carrie get a few others to be in on it with you, and we’ll make a lark of it. But the tricky bit will be we fellows won’t know who’s in on it and who isn’t. So whatever investigating we do, we’ll have to do it rather on the quiet so our hosts don’t get wind of it and think something’s really wrong. Now, how shall we carry it off?”
Madeline took his arm, still with that glint in her eye. “Don’t you worry. Carrie and I will cook up a story of a lover scorned and a father bankrupt and a lady’s dark revenge.”
“Perfect,” Drew said. “I think even Miss Austen would approve.”
The next morning they began dancing lessons, and it was evident that by the end of the week they would all be, if not proficient, at least competent in the country dance, the quadrille, and the cotillion, the most popular dances of the Regency era.
Drew had quickly realized he didn’t actually care for passing Madeline off to Laurent, even in the figure of a dance, and more than once that first day he weighed the social risks of striking a guest in another man’s home against the immense satisfaction such a blow would bring him. But in the end he lighted on the more moderate course of merely keeping an eye on the man. Madeline didn’t seem to take offense to the Frenchman’s insistence on being seated next to her at dinner or even notice his appreciative glances, and she did seem to be enjoying herself a great deal. It would be a pity to make a scene, though if Drew hadn’t known how much his wife wanted to be here, he wouldn’t have much minded being told to pack his things and go home.
By the time they were ready to retire that night, he was determined to settle the matter. If she was genuinely annoyed by the man, Drew would certainly put a stop to it.
He puttered about in the bathroom until he was certain Beryl had finished helping Madeline out of her gown of pale gold with fine burgundy stripes and taken down her hair. He heard Madeline bid the girl good-night, followed by the soft click of the door shutting. Then he came into the bedroom.
“I want you to teach me French,” Madeline said as she sat at the dressing table in her muslin chemise and looked through the earrings in her jewelry case. “I’m tired of missing the best part of the conversation.”
He came to sit beside her in front of the mirror, still feeling more than awkward in the billowing nightshirt he was told was de rigueur for a gentleman of the Regency, but giving her a smile all the same. “Very well, repeat after me. La plume de ma tante est sur le bureau de mon oncle.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Even I know that one. And I don’t think I’ll have many occasions for telling anyone about my aunt’s pen or my uncle’s bureau.”
“Oh, very well. But you must tell me why you want to learn it so I’ll know what to teach you.”
She frowned. “Monsieur Laurent is always talking to me in French, especially during dancing lessons. I just want to know exactly what he’s saying.”
Drew’s mouth tightened. “I knew I should have punched his nose.”
“It might be perfectly harmless,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t feel that way. He gets a rather slimy expression on his face. I suppose it’s meant to be suave and debonair, but I can’t say I find it at all enticing.”
“Tell him ‘Vous êtes un crapaud dégoûtant.’”
&
nbsp; She raised one delicate eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what that means?”
“It’s merely a fine way of telling him he is a loathsome toad.”
“It does sound much prettier in French, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “Somehow I don’t think he’ll take the hint, even in French.”
“I’ve already warned him off in French and in English.”
“Maybe he’d respect you more if you told him you are French. You are, you know.”
He laughed. “Technically, I suppose, even if I did leave Paris when I was only a few days old. I had a French nurse, though, and a number of French tutors. I expect my father thought it would be an asset for me in doing business on the Continent.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It is terribly helpful for reading menus. And,” he said, leaning close to her ear, “for telling my wife how irresistible she looks.”
She put her arms around his neck. “You don’t really mind dressing this way, do you, Drew?”
“Not if it pleases you, darling.” He kissed her lips. “Are you enjoying your house party?”
“Very much. Are you enjoying the mystery Carrie and I made for you?”
“Nobody will tell me anything.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You do know where the pearls are, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
He scowled at her. “I’m going to find them, never you mind that, and before Nick and Will, too.”
“I’m sure you will.” She chuckled to herself. “In time.”
He gave her a severe look, and she tried to look contrite.
“Tal’s parents are awfully nice.”
“I’ve always liked them,” he said. “I didn’t realize Mr. Cummins had grown so serious about his wine collection. Mrs. Cummins hasn’t changed a bit, though. Still everyone’s mum.”
“She seems like she’d be more at home in a little row house and walking to the market every day. Not that she isn’t absolutely lovely and perfectly dressed, but she doesn’t seem as if any of it matters except for Tal and his father. I think if they’re happy, she’s happy.”
“She doesn’t come from money, not like her husband. I believe her father was a greengrocer in Otterbourne. She made quite a step up in her marriage, but I don’t think she’s forgotten where she came from. Mr. Cummins is well known for his charity work in London, but it’s Mrs. Cummins who gets really involved in the local parish. Knitting and cooking and visiting, all the things that involve more than writing a check.”
Dressed for Death Page 3
