“Plummy said the man was difficult to pry anything out of.”
“Now that doesn’t surprise me,” Leo said. “He had a way about him that suggested he kept his secrets close. Arrogant too.”
“He sounds exactly like you, Leo,” Ellen said.
“Very amusing.”
“Who did that?” Fred had risen from the floor, and was pointing to the side table where she always left her farm figurines.
They all looked and saw the neat rows.
“Not me,” Ellen said. The others shook their heads. Her thoughts went to Detective Fletcher. Could he have done it?
A tap on the door had Bud appearing.
“I think it’s bedtime. Harriet is waiting for you three upstairs.”
“We are hardly children anymore,” Matilda said. “If we were in society, I would be presented at court soon.”
“How lucky for society we are not then,” Leo mocked her. “Now off you go. Yes, even you, Teddy. You can read the girls a story.”
There were groans and debates, but eventually the younger Nightingales left, leaving peace to settle on the parlor. That was until Mungo appeared.
“Mr. Douglas has called and is in need of our help, my lord.”
“Why must you ‘my lord’ me, Mungo? Leo, Leopold, or Master Leo if you must, but my lord isn’t necessary.”
“You’re a bloody lord, so I’ll put a ‘my’ in front of it,” the Scotsman said, glaring at Leo. “Now, if you’re done telling me what to do, Mr. Douglas is waiting for you at the back door.” He then stormed from the room.
“Such a winning personality has our Mungo,” Alex said. “He’s like a little ray of sunshine.”
“Sunshine!” Leo and Ellen yelled, getting to their feet. “What did Teddy say we had to do this week when someone said sunshine?” Leo asked.
“Hop for four,” Alex sighed. “But as he is not in the room, perhaps we could forgo?”
“He’ll know,” Ellen said.
The Nightingale children had only ever had one tradition that they still followed from when Fred, Matilda, and Teddy were young.
Matilda had been a sickly child. Fred had told her once she must choose a word each week for the Nightingale siblings to use in a sentence. Leo had added that whoever selected the word also chose what actions they must carry out when it was spoken. Many years later, they were still doing this game.
“Get moving, Alex,” Leo said.
He hopped toward the door with Leo and Ellen on his heels. They then left the room looking like the children of the viscount they’d been raised to be.
Walking under the stairs, they made for the back door. Even though they’d told locals to come through the front one, none of them did. Passing the kitchens that always smelled delicious, she found Bud at the open door talking to Mr. Douglas from number 24 Crabbett Close.
“Good evening to you, Mr. Douglas,” Ellen said. “What has you here at such an hour?”
The man had tugged off his cap. Gray tufts of hair stood off his head, and the worry was clear in his lined face. He and his family had lived here for many years. Now that all but one of their six children had left, the home was usually filled with grandchildren and baking smells. The three youngest Nightingales spent a lot of time there.
“My Sally’s girl, Penny, has gone missing, Miss Nightingale.”
“How long has she been missing?” Leo asked.
“She didn’t come home from work the day before yesterday.”
“Penny is the seamstress, or is that Lolly?” Ellen asked. Since moving into Crabbett Close, the Nightingales had learned what it was like to have neighbors that wanted you to be part of their lives.
