First, Zachary was not convinced there was indeed a mouse problem in the butler’s pantry. If Potter’s hearing was suspect, what must his vision be like? Second, he had already advised his butler on what should be used in the gun’s stead.
“Traps or poison,” Wycombe advised.
“Or ask the housekeeper,” Zachary suggested. “I am certain such matters ought to be directed toward Mrs. Beasley instead of yourself.”
“It is Mrs.Measly, as you know,” the butler said, emphasizing the incorrectMhe had exchanged for the trueBat the beginning of Mrs. Beasley’s name.
Zachary’s head was beginning to pound.
“Quite,” Wycombe said, his tone as serious as his mien. “Of course it is.”
“No,” he found himself correcting the two of them. “It is Mrs. Beasley with a B. I assure you.”
“As I said, my lord,” Potter said with a regal nod. “Mrs. Measly.”
This time, he did not bother attempting to correct the butler’s misunderstanding of Mrs. Beasley’s surname.
Zachary was going to need to empty the entire whisky cache he had discovered following this melee. It was increasingly looking as if the day of his wedding could not arrive with enough haste to preserve his own sanity.
* * *
“I never want to have a wedding,”Corliss announced from her perch on Criseyde’s bed.
She was lying on her belly, her feet crossed at the ankles and hems pooled around her knees, in a very unladylike position their mother would have disapproved of.
Fortunately, Mama was already abed, leaving Izzy and her sisters to gather in Criseyde’s chamber for the sort of chat they had not had since Ellie’s marriage to the duke.
“It is a dreadful amount of trouble, is it not?” Criseyde asked. “But if it is with the right gentleman, one can forgive any amount of trouble, I expect.”
She was draped over the arms of an overstuffed chair by the hearth, with Ellie occupying the other in far more elegant fashion, her limbs covered and not dangling in the air. Izzy, meanwhile, was not seated at all, but pacing the worn carpets.
“The trouble is not so much the wedding as the state of Barlowe Park,” she could not help pointing out.
“It is indeed a difficult situation.” Ellie winced. “I cannot believe the butler was going about armed with a shotgun, attempting to kill mice.”
“The poor dear ought to be in a cottage somewhere,” Corliss agreed.
“Zachary has spoken with some of the other servants, and apparently, Potter does not have any family,” Izzy said. “It is a terrible thing when one begins to lose one’s faculties and there is no one to be of aid.”
He had sought her out following the gunshot which had shocked the entire household, for it had been heard to the very rafters. His explanation had been alarming, but she understood the havoc age could have upon a mind. She had recommended he encourage Potter to retire when they returned from their honeymoon, and perhaps he might be looked over to prevent future…incidents. Zachary had agreed. Their meeting had been short, but she had been pleased at the care he had shown both for the elderly retainer and for her opinion.
“He reminds me a bit of Great Aunt Mary,” Criseyde said.
Their mother’s aunt had grown befuddled in her old age, frequently repeating herself, confusing Izzy and her sisters with each other, and behaving in a manner that had horrified poor Mama, despite her love for the elder woman who had spent the end of her life at Talleyrand Park.
“He does,” she agreed sadly. “I am afraid his mind will only further deteriorate as hers did.”
Aunt Mary had been a favorite in Izzy’s youth, and watching the recognition slowly fade from her shrewd green eyes had been painful. In the end, she had often mistaken Izzy for her mother whenever Izzy had gone to the room where she had spent the last few months of her life, unable to leave the bed.
“Thankfully, Aunt Mary did not know how to shoot a shotgun,” Corliss said, clearly attempting to brighten the heaviness of the mood.
“Fortunately, Zachary has confiscated Mr. Potter’s shotgun, so there will not be another such incident here while we are in residence,” she said.
“Zachary, is it?” Ellie asked, considering her with knowing look. “It certainly sounds as if you and the earl have reached some common ground.”
She could not keep the heat from her cheeks at her sister’s unfortunate choice of phrase. Ground. Yes indeed, they had reached some quite common ground earlier that morning.Onthe ground, as it happened.
She nearly laughed at the thought, but tamped down her levity for fear it would induce her sisters to ask her questions she had no wish to answer.
