The butler stared at him with apparent incomprehension.
“I have no intention,” Percy added, “of disciplining you in any way at all for damp sheets and a dead bird and soot.”
“Who is there of importance in your life, Mr. Crutchley, apart from yourself?” Paul Knorr asked.
Crutchley’s head turned toward him. His expression did not change, but he spoke. “I have a daughter down in the village,” he said, “and two grandsons, and one of them has a wife and two little ones.”
“Thank you,” Percy said. “Again I do not ask for a name, unless you choose to volunteer it, but do you know who the leader of this particular gang is?”
Crutchley nodded once after a longish while.
“Is his identity generally known?” Percy asked.
A quick shake of the head.
“And does he live and work within this estate?” Percy asked.
But there was no response this time—only a slight tightening of the butler’s lips and a blanking of his expression.
“Thank you,” Percy said. “You may leave.”
He stared at the closed door for some time before looking at Knorr.
“Where is Mawgan to be found when he is not busy head gardening?” he asked.
They left the house together a few minutes later rather than summon the man to the house.
***
“Whatever must you think of me?” Imogen said as they climbed the stairs together. Cousin Adelaide had drawn her arm through her own.
“I never did find a man I could both love and admire, Imogen,” she said. “I have always been convinced that such a man did not exist, though I never knew your Richard except once or twice perhaps when he was just a lad. Until very recently I would have said Lord Hardford was among the most worthless of them all. I am changing my mind about him even if hedoeshave an air of carelessness about him and is too handsome for his own good. I think if I were your age, I might fall in love with him too.” She laughed, a deep bass rumble that Imogen could not remember hearing ever before.
“Oh, but I am not in love with him,” she protested.
They were approaching the head of the stairs and the drawing room.
“Then you have no excuse for dallying with him,” Cousin Adelaide said firmly. “Or would have no excuse if you were telling the truth. I never thought I would tell any girl to go with her heart, but that is what I am telling you.”
Cousin Adelaide had been living here for some time. Imogen had never disliked her, but it had never occurred to her toloveCousin Adelaide. Not until now.
“Thank you,” she said, “for coming down and offering your chaperonage.”
“Chaperonage?”Cousin Adelaide laughed again. “I came because I was burning with curiosity.”
And it was Imogen’s turn not to believe.
One of the twins was sitting in the old lady’s chair when they went into the drawing room, and the girl immediately jumped to her feet and moved away. Cousin Adelaide looked her old self by the time she was seated and supposed out loud and with obvious displeasure that the tea was probably stone cold in the pot.
Everyone looked expectantly at Imogen, and she made a hasty decision. She told them everything—omitting the one detail in the letter that had referred to Percy as her lover.
Almost before the ladies had stopped exclaiming and Mrs. Hayes had hurried over to sit beside Imogen and take both her hands in her own, the men returned to the room—all except Percy, that was. Everyone buzzed with the shock and outrage while fresh tea was brought in and another plate of cake.
Then, amazingly, the rest of the day proceeded with near normality except for the fact that Imogen was back in her room upstairs, almost as if the dower house was still without its roof. A truckle bed was set up in her small dressing room for Mrs. Hayes’s own maid. Imogen did not question the choice of that particular maid, but she guessed that whoever had made the decision was afraid to trust any of the servants from the hall, including her own Mrs. Primrose.
Privacy, of course, was out of the question. Everywhere she went, someone went with her, usually more than one person, including at least one gentleman except within the confines of her own rooms. It was all very well done, of course. There was never a sense of being hedged about by guards.
The evening was spent around the pianoforte in the drawing room or seated about two card tables. The following morning, Sunday, they all went off to church, Imogen squeezed inside a closed carriage with two of Percy’s uncles and two aunts. She was seated between the same couples on a church pew with family both in front of them and behind. She was flanked by Mr. Welby and Mr. Cyril Eldridge when they all stepped outside the church and stood for a while in the churchyard exchanging news and pleasantries with neighbors. Mr. Eldridge handed her back into the carriage for the return journey, and she squeezed her way between the aunts.
