Tiffany . . .
Percival stared dreamily out the window, the slice of bread in his hand forgotten. His mind’s eye was focused on bright, emerald green eyes that could flash with fire, sparkle with laughter, or cloud over with tears. Instead of the view outside his study window he saw neatly combed dark hair tucked beneath a snowy white, perfectly starched cap. Even when posing as a boy, her clothing had a neatness about it that would have betrayed her sooner or later, had she but known it.
“Penny for your thoughts, My Lord?”
Percival started. McClellan was gone, and Lucas was standing by the door. “I’m afraid your money would be poorly spent, Lucas. Nothing in my head but moonshine.”
“Quite so, My Lord. If I did not know better, I would say that a man with that look about him was dreaming over his dearest beloved. Not that I would know anythin’ about that, My Lord,” Lucas added virtuously.
“Coming in a bit too strong there,” Percival chided. “And you are scarcely a year away from becoming a married man.”
“Oh, but a gentleman that has been told ‘Yes’ has a different appearance about him, My Lord. You, on the other hand, have likely not so much as hinted to the subject of your adoration.”
“Very astute of you,” Percival said dryly. “Since I have no subject to address, I will return to my assertion that my head is full of moonshine, and your penny would purchase nothing but moonbeams and dust.”
“If you say so, My Lord. Now, would you be eating that slice of bread, or should I take your tea back down to the kitchen? Miss Tiffany is going to be mightily disappointed if you bring so little appetite to her work.”
Percival looked down at his tea setting. “To be sure, she would. I cannot send it back to the kitchen so unappreciated.” So saying, he took another bite of the bread and butter, discovering that he had an appetite, after all.
When he had finished he asked, “Have you, McClellan, or Mr. Wilson heard aught from Constable Brooks? It has been some weeks since he was last here.”
“I’ve heard naught, My Lord, but I cannot speak for Mr. McClellan or Mr. Wilson. Last I heard, he was pursuing some matter or other at your behest, but no one mentioned what.”
“I suppose one must wait for some things. Thank you for not allowing me to moon my way out of having such a lovely tea, Lucas. Be sure and give my compliments to the cook.”
“That I will, My Lord. That I will.”
Percival stared out the window, making no move to open the heavy account ledgers that were stacked on one corner of his desk. What could be taking Mr. Brooks so long to find the rest of the information he had asked him to look into? Could it be that there simply was no information about an orphaned child found in a fruit crate?
Chapter 29
Tiffany needed a few minutes alone before returning to the kitchen. So instead of going down the stairs, she turned and ran up the stairs into the attics. When she was helping Grace bring down the worn linens, she had noticed a dormer window that gave out onto the roof.
Now would be a good time to discover if Davy had left the ladder and rope they had used during their interrupted burglary. While things seemed to be going well, you never knew when you might need a way out.
Besides, she desperately needed an escape just now. She opened the window, and leaned out into the evening air. Sure enough, a coil of rope and the ladder were tucked just behind the chimney pot. She did not climb out. Just knowing they were there was enough.
She leaned on the sill, looking out over the roofs of Northbury.
I feel as if I have fallen into a drama, a play that is being enacted. It has a highly improbable plot, but I do not think this is the light romance where Columbine winds up with Pierrot. I think it is more of a Punch and Judy show. I do wonder whether I am Punch or Judy?
Reluctantly, she closed the window and went back downstairs to her duties.
Chapter 30
Dinner was long over, and Tiffany was sitting at her little desk in the kitchen puzzling her way through the domestic account books. There had been sweet, tender carrots for dinner, delivered with compliments from the gardener. In her mind’s eye, Tiffany could still see Percival’s rapt expression as he crunched into the succulent vegetable with great gusto.
“Lord Northbury wants you in his study,” Sophie said. “He says it is something very special.”
Tiffany glanced up in alarm.
“Very well, I will just clean my hands, and go straight up. Is everything all right, Sophie? You are not usually the one to bring messages, and you seem a bit flustered.”
“Lovely, absolutely lovely.” Sophie waved one hand in the air as if dispelling any possible doubt. “I was just on my way back down from carrying up the tea tray, and His Lordship asked me to deliver the message. That is all.”
“I wonder what he could want?” Tiffany speculated aloud. “It is late. He has usually had his nightcap and is tucked between his sheets by now.”
“Oh? And how would you know that, Miss Queen-below-stairs?”
