She said, “It would not be the first time Painswick Court housed a spaniel. King Charles the First took his favorite dog everywhere—a black-and-white spaniel named Rogue. So the dog likely accompanied him here to Painswick as well. It is said that when Charles was beheaded, his loyal spaniel remained at his side.”
“How ... touching,” Mr. Dalby murmured.
“Yes, I thought so.” She scratched the dog’s chin before looking up. “Very well, he may stay. And you too.”
That night, after Lady Celia fell asleep, Anne found herself feeling peckish and decided to slip down to the kitchen for something to eat. She walked through Sir Herbert’s room to avoid disturbing Lady Celia’s slumber. As she stepped into the corridor, she heard a voice and paused. Was it Dr. Finch and Rosa in huddled conversation again? No. She recognized Rosa’s voice, but a different man responded. Mr. Dalby.
“You...” Disbelief colored his tone. “Miss...” He hesitated, apparently searching his memory. “Miss Stark?”
“That’s right.”
“I am all astonishment. I have not laid eyes on you in ... what, a year? Cheltenham, I believe?”
“Yes.”
Anne walked quietly forward and peered down the side passage at them.
“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked.
“I am lady’s maid to your aunt.”
His mouth fell ajar. “Lady’s maid!” He turned slightly away from her, bent over and began to laugh—the laughterof someone who has been punched by a child. “God is giving me my just deserts.”
“Is He?” Rosa asked, brows high. “Then good for Him.” She made to brush past him, but he grasped her arm.
“Wait. What do you want?”
“Not a thing! Though kind of you to ask. I’m simply grateful for this situation with your aunt. She’s such an old dear.”
“Now I know you’re hoaxing me.”
“How was I to know you would be here? I thought you resided elsewhere—with your wife.”
“I did.” His jaw tensed. Yet a moment later, he seemed to relax. “However, I am ... glad to find you here now, under the same roof.”
“Are you? Well, good. We shall have time to become reacquainted.”
He smiled. A cat eyeing the cream. “I shall look forward to it.”
Anne retreated, abandoning her plan to go downstairs, the thought of food suddenly unappealing. First Rosa and Dr. Finch, and now Rosa and Mr. Dalby? She remembered pieces of the conversation she had heard through the thicket her first night back in Painswick.“You should not have come here. And you should definitely not stay at Painswick Court. Nothinggood can come of this scheme of yours.”
What was going on? Mr. Dalby said he had not seen Rosa in a year, but his wife had still been alive then—Miss Lotty mentioned she’d died only nine months ago. A distasteful theory sprang to mind. Was Dr. Finch in love with Rosa, but Mr. Dalby had pursued her while still a married man? Ugh. Anne felt queasy at the very idea and hoped she was wrong. Wrong about all of it.
7
The next morning, Anne went down to the stillroom again. This time to prepare a headache remedy for Miss Fitzjohn and a bottle of peppermint water for Lady Celia’s upset stomach.
She began by grinding willow bark and blessed thistle with mortar and pestle.
Through the workroom’s high window, she glimpsed Dr. Finch coming down the outside kitchen stairs. She heard the door open in the nearby passage, and a moment later he appeared in the doorway, a bunch of purple blossoms and cheery daisy-like flowers in hand.
He held them out to her.
Surprised by the offering, Anne hesitated. Was he carrying on with Rosa and now flirting with her as well? Belatedly, she stepped forward to accept them.
“Thank you. They’re ... pretty.”
For a moment he stared at her in mild confusion, then his expression cleared. “Oh! I’m not ... I mean, they are not ... It’s just chamomile and lavender. To help Lady Celia. I thought I’d contribute to your efforts down here.”
