“I see.” Mrs. McGrath cocked her head to the side and studied Cleo’s face.
Whatever conclusions the cook made, she did not choose to share them with Cleo, but instead returned to her work. Cleo, in turn, chose not to press her on the issue but could not keep herself from blushing slightly at having been scrutinized in such a fashion. She understood enough about her feelings to know that they stemmed from her attraction to the Earl, but she could not help feeling guilty about having such thoughts under the terrible circumstances in which they found themselves.
She caught Mrs. McGrath looking at her again and paused in her cleaning. “Yer faither would want ye tae be happy, lass, and he would nae wish for ye tae feel guilty about it. I could nae help but notice that both o’ the earls in attendance were dancing about ye.”
“Now is not the time for such things and we have no way of knowing whether the Earl of Irondale is truly helping us or is only doing so to cover his guilt. I do not believe him to be the man who killed my father, but we have no way of knowing for certain. Until then, everyone we encounter could be the person we are looking for. We cannot trust anyone.”
“How do ye plan tae find out whether he is guilty or nae?”
“I will be going with him to see my father’s office upon the morrow for one last time. Perhaps by spending a bit more time with him, I will be able to ascertain his intentions.”
“The lad does nae strike me as the murdering kind. Would he kill a man tae protect someone he loves?” Mrs. McGrath paused in thought for the briefest moment, then continued. “Aye, I believe that we all would do so if we had tae, and the Earl o’ Irondale is nae different, but I dinnae believe him capable o’ killing yer faither. Such an act takes an element o’ evil that I dinnae see in his eyes.”
“I feel the same way, but we cannot be too careful or trusting. We must explore every possible person we encounter.”
“Is there anything that I can do tae be o’ aid?”
“I would like to keep this from Aunt Caroline for the moment. She and I are dealing with our grief in very different ways and I do not need her interfering.”
“I had hoped that she would help ye.”
“She has made it quite clear that her idea of helping me is to find me a husband, not to aid me in finding my father’s killer.”
“She has just lost her brother and she is frightened.”
“I agree and I do not begrudge her that, but for now I think it would be best if she was not aware of the true reasoning behind my actions. We can conceal what we are doing under the guise of the courtship that she so desperately desires for me. As such is the case, I may need to call upon you to chaperone in order to meet the bounds of propriety.”
“Aye, I can see how that might be needed. We cannae be risking yer reputation and if he is the killer ye dinnae need tae be running’ about with the lad unsupervised placing yerself in danger.”
“I appreciate your willingness to keep it a secret.”
“I will do so, lass, on the understanding that ye dinnae put yerself in a compromising situation. I will nae have yer murder on my head.”
“I would not put you through such a thing, Mrs. McGrath. I would not dare.”
“Right then,” Mrs. McGrath nodded her head. “Upon the morrow, we will all go tae the professor’s office.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McGrath.”
“Aye, my sweet lass. I will be here for ye until my dying breath, however long or short a time that might be.”
* * *
Arthur sat at Jacob’s desk, quill and paper in hand. He had mulled over every possible translation he could think of, but nothing had worked. He had searched every book on languages Jacob held in his library but had come away with nothing more than what Miss Wallace had already told him, and that which he already knew. Nothing made sense.
“Emil sher pones eg theta et hot angil frye,”he read aloud once more. “It is nae but gibberish.”
“I would agree with that,” Jacob’s voice remarked from the doorway. “What are you reading?”
“It is a message that the professor left behind for his daughter, but she does nae ken what it means, and clearly nor do I.”
“May I?” Jacob asked as he walked over to the desk.
“Aye,” Arthur nodded and handed him the sheet of paper.
“Emil sher pones eg theta et hot angil frye,”Jacob read aloud. He furrowed his brow in thought. “I recognize some of these words, but they are not in a context that would make any sense.”
“Aye, so ye see the problem.”
