Someone else giggled, and a childish voice said, “Shush! He’ll hear you!”
Leroy flung open the window just in time to see two youthful figures leap down from the veranda railing, and go pelting across the newly mown bowling green in the moonlight.
“I’ll turn you off without references!” Leroy shouted.
“Don’t work for you,” a boy’s voice shouted back. “An’ our mum and da don’t neither. You canned ‘em last week, you old sourpuss. Serves you right to get nuffin’ but bully beef and neeps for dinner.”
“W’at he said,” another voice called. “Hope a snake bites you.”
Then the two running figures disappeared into the wood, leaving Leroy standing on the veranda, holding a rusty sword in his hand.
Leroy stumped back into his bedroom, and used the mantle striker to light the candle standing next to it. Taking up the decanter, also on the mantelpiece, he poured two fingers of brandy into the glass he had used just before going to bed.
He gagged down the fiery liquid, then stared at the glass in his hand.
Why had the servants not cleared it away?
He had finished with it. It should have vanished.
Uneasy, he splashed some more brandy into the glass, and sat down in the wingback chair that sat before the cold fireplace.
Something is very wrong here. Very, very wrong.
He took another sip of brandy, hoping it would burn through the mental fog he was feeling. Even as he sipped, he was fairly certain this was not the right approach, but he had no idea what he should do.
In the end, he finished two more splashes of brandy in his glass, made his uncertain way to the window, and locked it. He then wobbled his way back to his bed and lay down to let the brandy do its work. He watched the moonlit ceiling miserably, as his stomach protested the liquid he had ingested. At length, he fell asleep.
Chapter 7
The tea table was set with the best linens, her wedding crystal, and a single red rose. It was Adelaide’s wedding anniversary, an event both bittersweet and precious. She watched as Mrs. Swinton artfully arranged the silverware at two places.
Since the late Duke was unable to attend, for obvious reasons, his son would sit down at table to this special tea. It was a commemorative occasion for both of them. The red rose symbolized the attendance of the late Duke, who, until his death, never missed a single anniversary, birthday, Christmas, or any other excuse to give a gift to his precious bride.
Fortunately for family peace, he gave just as enthusiastically to his son.
Adelaide had dressed carefully for the occasion. She wore a dove gray gown, with only the merest hint of black at collar and cuffs. Her hat was a new one, capably constructed by her companion’s nimble fingers. Say what she might about millinery and suitability as a companion, Lady Carletane was never turned out in such good taste and elegance as Adelaide. Or at least not since Mrs. Swinton had become her companion.
What had I ever done without the capable little widow?
A soft knock at the door announced that her son had arrived. Adelaide surveyed him with pride as he handed off his hat and cane to the butler, along with a bottle of red wine. He frowned a little when he saw that only two places were set at the table.
“Will Mrs. Swinton not be joining us this afternoon?” he asked.
“Not today, my dear,” Adelaide replied. “This is a commemorative occasion, so it will be just the two of us.”
An expression, too fleeting to be called disappointment, flitted across his face. “Very well,” Darrius said, “I shall endeavor not to disappoint.”
“You never do, dear,” his mother replied. “You are everything that George and I could have wished for in a son.”
“I am glad to hear that I am satisfactory,” Darrius commented.
“Oh, you,” Adelaide chuckled, as she extended her hand to be kissed. “You know very well that you are the apple of my eye. And fear not, Mrs. Swinton will wait upon our table tonight so that we will not have the servants intruding upon us.”
“That seems ominous. Is there a particular reason why we shall have such an intimate tête-à-tête?”
“Only that I am a foolish old woman, and I wish to pretend for a short while that your father is merely away on business and might come walking through that door at any moment.”
“Egad! I hope he shall not. After being dead nearly ten years, I do not believe that seeing him arise from his grave would be a pleasant experience.”
