“Of course. I will be glad to.”
“As a cover, take this special lunch basket to him. Tell him that Mr. Hammonds says, ‘The old legionnaire’s trick works every time, and that his special mail is in the old post office.’”
“All right.” Celeste looked puzzled. “I won’t have any trouble being discrete because I have no idea what this is about.”
“Don’t worry. The Duke will know. Ask at the gazebo where to find him. Betty is there. She has been helping him along with Sister Agatha. I don’t think you can miss them.”
Celeste put the strap of a bottle covered with woven straw over her shoulder, and picked up the heavy basket. “I’m sorry to burden you so,” Miss Sedgewick said. “But this food really does need to go to the orangeries. If you could bring back some of the empty utensils, it will help.”
Celeste trudged toward the orangeries, holding the basket in her arms because it was simply too heavy to carry by the handles. As she drew near the gazebo, she could see the devastation. The big glass building that had held the poison garden had one entire side smashed out of it. An area was roped off, and only three figures worked inside it. As she drew near, she realized that they were Gran’ther Tim, Sister Agatha, and Father Jacob. Sister Agatha had her habit kilted up, revealing men’s trousers and stout boots underneath. The father had lain aside his cassock, and was clad in a long, heavy shirt and dark trousers. Gran’ther Tim wore the long-sleeved shirt that he had indicated to Celeste as being what he wore when dealing with the poisonous plants. All three wore long, tightly cuffed gloves.
The damage had not been confined to the poison garden. The southern end of the orangery had been smashed, and the curtains that had held moisture and heat around the collection of beautiful flowers had been yanked down and holes rent in it in several places. The Duke was in that area, giving directions and helping rescue as many plants as could be managed. Villagers and staff from the house, stables, and gardens moved back and forth carrying pots. A trestle table had been set up and several of the under gardeners were busy repotting such plants as could be saved.
Betty was busy combining trays to make room for added foods as busy people came and went from the tables, grabbing something to fill their stomachs before heading back to help with the work.
“Celeste!” Betty exclaimed. “The last I knew you were mewed up with the Duchess. Word has it she received a new book.”
“Yes. I read until my throat became too dry to talk, then she decided to go riding.”
“Riding? Now? Today?”
Celeste shrugged. “She insisted on it. Short of locking her in, I had no way to stop her. Can you get the Duke’s attention? Miss Sedgewick sent a dinner down especially for him.”
“I can try. We’ve scarcely been able to get him to stop a minute.”
“Tell him that I have a message for him. I’ll wait here.”
Betty gave her an odd look, but Celeste laid a hand protectively across the basket. “I’ll go get him. Keep an eye on the foodstuffs and don’t let the birds get at it.”
Celeste watched as Betty went to the Duke. He glanced up, and then started toward her, Betty walking just behind him. It was clear from the way he moved that he was both weary and discouraged. But when he drew near, he had a smile for her.
“Celeste! Betty said that you had a message for me?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It is from Mr. Hammonds, and I am to tell you privately.”
The Duke looked around. “Not a lot of places to be private just now. Let’s see…up by the fountain should be good. The water will mask our voices, and the breeze across it will feel very good. You say you have a plate for me, too?”
Celeste nodded, and opened the basket. On the top was a plate done up in brown paper with the initials J.H. marked in charcoal. She lifted it out carefully. “The bottle is yours, too, Your Grace.”
“I can get that if you will get the plate, Celeste. I’ll clean up a bit at the fountain, and you can give me your news.”
In a very few minutes the Duke seated himself on the stone curbing of the fountain. Celeste looked around, and seeing no place to rest the plate, knelt and lifted it up as if it were an offering. The plate proved to have rendered pork rinds, brown bread, and a large wedge of green cheese.
“Pork cracklin’s and brown bread,” he said with delight. He then opened the bottle. “And small beer! Just what I needed.” He took a large swig, then took the plate from Celeste’s hands, balancing it on one knee. “Miss Sedgewick knows what pleases me. Now, what news do you bring to me.”
“Mr. Hammonds says, ‘The old legionnaire’s trick works every time, and that your special mail is in the old post office.’”
“Old legionnaire’s trick, eh? I hate to ask it of you when you have already trudged so far, but go down to far side of the orangery and ask Mr. McOwen, Inspector Ravensgard, and Constable McHenry to come up here. Oh, and tell Mr. McAhmladhson that I will be going up to the castle for a while. You can come back with Mr. McOwen and the others. We’ll stop to get the dogs on the way.”
“The dogs are not with Mr. McOwen?”
“No. Too much monkshood about. Gertrude won’t come within fifty feet of any of the orangeries today, so I’m guessing it has been scattered everywhere. I’ve made sure that everyone is wearing shoes and gloves, and that none of the ladies have trailing skirts.”
The Duke paused then, and looked at Celeste’s uniform. “On second thought, you let Betty go get the gentlemen. Those slippers are too light, you might very well cut yourself on the broken glass. She is already prepared, and knows which paths to stay on.”
When Betty had gone, the Duke turned his face up to the breeze. “It is wonderful to get a breath of fresh air. There are so many scents from the plants and the broken vessels.”
“Is it very dreadful?” Celeste asked.
