Page 68 of Murder on the Downs
Cecilia nodded, then quietly let herself out of the nursery. She started downstairs but stopped when she saw James coming up.
“I was coming to find you,” James said.
“I regret I cannot say the same. I am coming down to find food,” she told him. “I am famished!”
“Heaven forfend that I stand in the way of my tiny wife when she is hungry,” James declared, stepping aside with a gallant sweep of his body for her to go before him.
She playfully swatted at his arm.
“I will join you,” he said, sobering. “I was coming to tell you of my cousin’s letter. It is not like his previous missives.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, but we’ll discuss it over food.”
Her lips quirked, but she picked up her pace, her curiosity aroused.
Once they each had a plate of food and Daniel had served them beverages, James requested that Daniel leave the room and close the door behind him.
“Gracious!” Cecilia declared, surprised he’d asked Daniel to leave.
“You’ll understand in a moment. Let’s eat. Once we begin discussing my cousin’s concerns, that will consume our time.”
When they had finished, James pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows on the table. “The letter that George Inglewood has had for the past three days?”
“Yes?”
“As I said, it is from my cousin, Gideon Tallevast.”
“The current Duke of Monteith,” Cecelia said.
“Yes. He believes someone is either trying to injure him, drive him mad, or kill him.”
“What?” Cecilia blinked at her husband, shocked. This was nothing of what she expected to hear. “I know I have never met your cousin; however, from what you have told me, and what Mr. Thornbridge has relayed about how seriously he approaches the work to repair the Monteith fortunes, I would not take him for a man suffering flights of fancy.”
“Gideon is not. He asks that we come to Devon to investigate. And to show you how worried he is, he sent his daughter, Chelsea, to my parents in Yorkshire. She doesn’t know anything about what is going on, only that she is to spend the summer with her Great Aunt and Uncle Branstoke. He asks—if Miss Jones wishes to return to his employ as Chelsea’s governess—that we send her to Yorkshire, as well.”
Cecilia’s brows drew together as she thought over what her husband told her. With danger inherent in the journey, her mother’s protectiveness roared. She did not want to take Hugh. And she certainly did not want James to go by himself.
“Cecilia?” James said into a growing silence.
She waved a hand to request he wait. James’s brow rose in amusement.
“The Aldriches,” she finally said.
“The Aldriches?” James inquired.
“Yes. I’ll ask Elinor and Simon if Mary Alice, her son, and Hugh might stay with them while we are gone. Ronnie and Charlotte are near enough in age to be playmates, which might be beneficial for both.”
James nodded.
“We will take Sarah and your valet—they’ve both proven useful in the past. And I think we should take Mr. Romley.”
James leaned back in his chair and laughed lightly. “I should have known my beautiful wife was planning military-style logistics. Anything else?”
“I have only started! Oh! I know, we will ask Mortlake for passage on his yacht. I must go upstairs and change for this afternoon. We need to speak with Mortlake, Miss Jones, and the Aldriches. …I rather hope Miss Jones decides to remain here while her charge is in Yorkshire. That would ease the vicar’s grief to have at least one of his daughters near,” Cecilia said as she rose from the table. She frowned for a moment. “I supposewe should also check on the condition of Squire Inglewood and make arrangements for Lady Inglewood to stay with someone for a few days. I don’t think she should be by herself.”
“Won’t her son be with her?” James asked, rising as well.
“No, he’ll be captaining the yacht, of course,” she said off-handedly.
At that, James started to laugh.
“What?” Cecilia asked, looking at him crossly.
He shook his head. “Just you, my love. Just you.” He pulled her toward him for a kiss. Then stepped away. “I’ll have Romley bring the carriage around for this afternoon.”
The end, until…
Murder with Apples