Delsie (14 page)

“She is an excellent girl, well informed and conscientious. I enjoy her company, but to cut expenses I had thought I might teach Bobbie myself. It would be one
less servant to pay, and I am qualified to undertake
her training.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t think of it!” Jane expostulated
at once. “If you haven’t someone to look after Bobbie,
you will have a child on your hands twenty-four hours a day. You would be tied leg and wing, not a minute free to receive callers or to make a call yourself, or to come to us in the evenings, for you would not want to leave her in Mrs. Bristcombe’s charge, I am convinced. She would frighten the child with her stories of pixies
and other superstitious ignorance. You cannot dispense
with a woman of some sort to look after the child.”

These disadvantages had already occurred to the
widow. She was fond of Roberta, but knew as well that
a lady in her new circumstances was not saddled full-
time with her children. “The reason I married Mr. Grayshott was to look after Roberta,” she reminded
them.

“You
are
looking after her,” deVigne added his pro
test. “You are her legal guardian, and taking your job of husbanding her monies very seriously, but it is nonsense to speak of dispensing with a governess. As you settle into a more regular sort of a life here, you will
find you haven’t time to devote your whole day to the
child. That was never our intention. Even as a schoolmistress, you were not on duty twenty-four hours a day.
I will risk giving you an unsolicited piece of advice.
Keep the governess if you feel she is competent, and replace her if you feel otherwise. How does Bobbie like her?”

“They are on good terms, but...”

“Keep her, then,” Jane said conclusively. “Besides,
I am the one who got Miss Milne the position, and she
needs it. The father is dead, and there are three girls
at home. It would be cruel to turn her off for no reason.”

This cunning fabrication, making an unexceptionable reason for Mrs. Grayshott to retain the girl, succeeded very well. There was no more talk of being rid
of Miss Milne.

Dinner was called, and a peaceful evening was wiled
away over a few hands of whist. As Mrs. Grayshott put
on her bonnet and pelisse to leave, Lady Jane reminded
her they would have a treasure hunt on the morrow,
the details to be set up after church the next morning.
When deVigne drove Delsie home to the Cottage, he
inquired into her statement that Andrew had said he
had money—had he specified in what form, or how much, or where?”

“No, it was very odd. I thought so at the time, and
attributed it to his weak condition. He just said he had some money, that he had saved it—I don’t recall ex
actly, I was so confused myself. I think he was trying
to tell me where it was, when you came in.”

“This must be what he meant
, the bags of guineas.
Perhaps he received some small inheritance from a rel
ative. I heard nothing of it, but it is possible, in which
case the mysterious bags of guineas are your own. He
left his estate to you.”

“I have the sinking apprehension they were not be
queathed to him by any kindly relative. I think Sir
Harold is right, and he was involved in some illegal business. Am I in any way responsible for my husband’s
crimes in the eyes of the law, I wonder?”

“Don’t be foolish, cousin. If your husband was indeed
participating in anything illegal, it has nothing to do
with you.”

“Receiving stolen money has to do with me. Why, I
am no less than an accessory after the fact. I shall end up in the stocks, with my former pupils pelting stones
at me.”

“This is absurd,” he said brusquely. “It was all done
before your time, and without your knowledge. There
is no way it can possibly involve you.”

“Fine talk, but you are not a lawyer. I daresay I shall have need of one before this mess is settled.”

“Let us wait till we have conducted a search of the
house tomorrow. If we
do
find any considerable sum of
money, we shall have to look into how he came by it.
Until that time, I shouldn’t worry my head about it
unduly.”

“The thirteen hundred already found seems a con
siderable sum to
me!”
she objected. “I don’t know how
you expect me to go to bed and listen to the pixies
playing in the orchard as if nothing had happened. If
I am lucky, I shall find another bag of gold tomorrow,
to add to my ill-gotten gains. I wish I were back at Miss
Frisk’s and St. Mary’s School,” she said glumly.

“Do you indeed regret your marriage?” he asked,
with a serious note in his voice. “You seem to me hap
pier than you were used to be. I recall seeing you on
the streets in the village, always whisking by at a great
rate with a frown on your face, or in church on Sunday, looking as sober as a judge. That cannot have been a carefree life for you either.”

“I did not have a frown on my face!”

“I never saw you smile till after your marriage.”

“You never looked,” she answered swiftly. “If you
had, you could not have seen my face for the dust your
carriage kicked up, bowling past at fifteen miles an
hour,”

“I didn’t drive my carriage into church.”

“No one smiles and laughs in church. It would be
unseemly.”

“You are avoiding the issue, cousin. Do you truly
regret this marriage I foisted on you?”

“I regret the bags of guineas,” she evaded. As she
considered the change in her life, she could not keep
up any pretense of regretting the rest of it. “Of course
I like Bobbie,” she added, as a sop.

The carriage swept up to the door of the Cottage. As he helped her to alight, he said, “Lucky Bobbie! I see
Bristcombe has a light burning for you. I’ll have a look
around the orchard before I leave.”

“The pixies don’t arrive till twelve-thirty or one. You
will only muddy your shoes for nothing, going there
now.”

“If you hear anything in the night, don’t take it into
your head to go and investigate it yourself. You can
call Bristcombe, or tell me tomorrow and we’ll set up a watch.”

“That warning was unnecessary. I am not quite the
daring creature you take me for. I shall pull the covers
over my head, or run into Bobbie’s room for protection.”

“I have already said ‘lucky Bobbie,’ have I not? Good
night, cousin. Pleasant dreams.” He opened the door
for her to enter and closed it after her, leaving the
astonished widow in the hallway with a startled question on her face.

Chapter Ten

Bristcombe was not in the hallway waiting for her, but as Delsie mounted the stairs, she heard him come up from the kitchen and lock the front door. Abovestairs lights were left burning as well, and she called down to him that she would take care of them to save his coming up. Looking in on Bobbie upon her return from dinner was becoming a habit, as was the tender emotion she felt to see that innocent face, vulnerable in sleep. My
daughter,
she thought! Only a stepdaughter really, but mine. It was an awesome responsibility she had shouldered, with very little thought to the child, but only to herself, her own troubles and of course her gain. She was a responsible woman, however, and had no thought of trying to avoid the responsibility. She welcomed it, in fact. Life would be futile with no responsibility, empty with no one to love. Already she was coming to love her new family.

These were her warm thoughts as she prepared for bed, still with her as she put out her lamp and tried to sleep. The little snake in this new Eden was the mysterious business in the orchard, and the unwanted gold. She listened for sounds of intrusion from beyond her window and heard none. She had not been in bed long enough to be near sleep when she heard the noise, sharp and close by.

It was beneath her window—there where the French doors of the study opened onto a small shelled area that had once served as an outdoor conversation corner, before the shrubbery had encroached. It was a distinct rattling sound, as of a garden implement being knocked over or dropped. She was out of bed in a flash, looking through the window.

A tattered shred of cloud partly obscured the hazy moon, but there was enough light to make out a dark form bending over and picking up whatever he had knocked down. Her heart pounded with fear. Good God! Were they planning to break right into the house this time? She should rouse Bristcombe. This hardly seemed preferable to facing the invader alone. She watched, tense, to see if the man—there was only one visible this time, nor had she heard anything to indicate the presence of animals—tried to gain entry. He did not. He backed into the shadows, no longer in her view, but she knew he was there, waiting, while she waited and observed above. Then he left—just walked away, around the corner to the back of the house.

If he tried to enter by that means, Bristcombe would
certainly hear him. The Bristcombes slept in a room off the kitchen. She was suddenly seized by an idea that was either madness or inspiration, she hardly knew which. Maybe the Bristcombes were in on it, whatever was going on. In a flash, the idea had gained control of her mind. The Bristcombes, that unsavory pair, were up to something. The woman trying to be rid of her, and the man never where he should he, or doing what he was paid to. They were using Bobbie’s house for some criminal activity. She must find out what it was. It would be dangerous, but there in the next room her innocent responsibility lay sleeping, at the mercy of these people. She squared her shoulders, slipped on her robe, shuffled into mules, and went to the door of her chamber. Her courage took a deep plunge there at the doorway to the dark corridor. What if they had guns, knives...?

She was dreadfully aware of her inability to deal with even one of the evildoers, if it should be one of the Bristcombes. What if there was a group? Miss Milne’s doorway was only a step beyond Bobbie’s. She ducked in and shook the girl’s arm. She wouldn’t ask her to come downstairs, but just let her know she was going in case... In case she didn’t come back. Hardly a reassuring thought. And if the girl
insisted
on coming along, that was quite her own affair. To Miss Milne’s credit and Delsie’s infinite relief, the governess insisted on accompanying her mistress.

“I woke up all of a sudden, ma’am, and thought I heard something fall over down below. A clattering sound it was, like a shovel or rake,” the girl said, perfectly wide-awake. “I didn’t bother getting up to have a look. There was only the one man, you say?”

“Yes, I saw only one.”

“I wonder who it could be? I’ll go down with you, and we’ll each take a poker for our defense.” Miss Milne went in the dark and took up her own weapon, while Mrs. Grayshott decided to have one from the saloon below. Without any candle to betray their presence, they huddled together down the stairs, tiptoeing and clinging to each other’s arm. All was silent, and dark, and extremely frightening. They crept to the French doors that were beneath Mrs. Grayshott’s window, stood with their pokers at the ready, staring into the black night, seeing nothing more treacherous than the naked black branches of trees, swaying against skies hardly less black.

“I’ll just open the door and listen a moment,” Mrs. Grayshott said. This met with no disapproval, and it was done. A somewhat eerie moaning of the low wind through the nude trees was added to their discomfort, as was a piercingly cold breeze. For two minutes they both listened, ears on the stretch, till they were convinced the intruder was gone, at which point Miss Milne mentioned wondering what had been knocked over.

“It can’t have been more than a step away. I’ll slip out and have a look,” Mrs. Grayshott decided. This was only half her reason. What she truly wished to see was whether any more bags of guineas had been dropped.

“I’ll go with you,” Miss Milne offered at once. Really, she was a perfect governess, becoming more valuable and less dispensable by the second. But still, a Miss Milne at the doorway was as good protection as one at her elbow, seeing what (if anything) was picked up.

“Wait here. I won’t be a minute,” Mrs. Grayshott told her, and went alone out the door. “It’s a shovel,” she called back over her shoulder in a low voice as she discerned in the darkness the outline of one leaning against the side of the house.

“I wonder if he was digging something,” Miss Milne called back in a whisper.

“I’ll have a look while I’m here.” With eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, the details of the night scene were becoming more easily recognizable.

“Be careful!” Miss Milne cautioned, coming to put her head out the French door for purposes of surveillance.

Delsie walked silently the few yards to the back of the building, looking about for any signs of either dropped canvas bags, or possibly freshly-dug holes, finding neither. A sudden keening gust of wind made her realize the folly of continuing the search in the middle of a black December night, wearing only a robe. She’d be lucky if she didn’t catch a cold as a result of this stunt. Just before returning to the French doors, she took a quick peep around the corner that gave a view of the back of the Cottage. She nearly fainted from shock. There, hiding in the shadows less than a yard away, stood the man, dressed all in black, his face a white blur, as he flattened himself against the wall. Some stifled sound of terror was in her throat. She tried to run, and discovered that, as in some nightmare, her limbs were frozen. Flight was impossible. She just stood, straining her eyes in the darkness at the man, who was staring back at her.