“It isn’t the thieves that worry me,” Eliza said.
“Me either,” echoed Rosemary.
Sophia ignored them. She wasn’t going to engage or ask after their concern since she already had a fairly good idea.
“It’s the curse!”
Eliza wasn’t letting go of the idea of a curse being attached to the mummy. Thank goodness it hadn’t made an appearance in Cornwall, or all of Sophia’s time would once again be spent trying to keep her two friends out of trouble. With such an imagination, Eliza should be penning her own horrid novels.
In an instant, Sophia’s eyes flew open. That was it!
“Eliza,” she said as she pulled the covers away. “I’ve a brilliant idea.”
“What?” she asked anxiously.
“You’ve complained about the lack of horrid novels and you are clearly concerned about the curse of the mummy, why don’t you write your own novel, thus you’ll solve both issues.”
Sophia held her breath while Eliza studied her and what Sophia assumed was pondering the idea. A moment later, her eyes lit. “That is exactly what I’m going to do.” She jumped from her bed. “With the journals from Mrs. Fairview and my own imagination, I’ll write the best horror novel ever to be written.”
“Do you think you can?” Rosemary asked with excitement.
“Of course she can,” Sophia answered before Eliza could.
“As soon as lessons have completed for the day, I’m going into town to purchase parchment, pencils and quills.” She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, I cannot wait to get started.”
Sophia rolled back on her side, facing away from her friends and grinned. Finally, something that just might keep Eliza and Rosemary out of trouble for a change, and give Sophia a much-desired peaceful existence.
* * *
Mayfair, London
When Henry retired early in the morning, he might have said that he could sleep for a week, but anticipated that he’d be awake by seven like he was every morning. However, that had not been the case and he didn’t open his eyes until it was nearly noon, which was completely out of character. Not only had he missed his morning coffee, but he’d need to hurry to be ready for all of Eve’s admirers.
As long as they were worthy admirers, of course. In fact, he’d be very careful about who he allowed into his home. Eve knew nothing of the bachelors of London and as Henry was her guardian, it was up to him to decide whom she could take tea with and whom she’d not be at home for. In fact, he must hurry so that he could advise Jeffries to alert him to any callers before Eve so that Henry could make those decisions for her.
After quickly dressing, Henry bounded down the stairs, anxious to greet Eve this morning to see how she fared. Except, he was greeted with nothing but silence. A young footman remained near the door and a maid waited, as if to see if he needed anything.
Where the blazes were Mrs. Peade and Jeffries? Henry barely finished his question when he reminded himself that he’d given them both the day off.
Oh well, he’d make do with the lower servants. “If anyone were to call for Miss Doyle, please speak to me before her,” he told the young footman.
“Yes, Lord Kilsyth.” Then he turned to the maid. “Coffee and could you have cook prepare something small for breakfast, to tide me over until luncheon.”
She bobbed a curtsey and quit the room as Henry settled behind his desk.
“Morning, Kilsyth,” Pickmore greeted jovially as he entered the library. “I assume you slept well, or were you at your desk at an ungodly hour as always.”
“No, Pickmore. I have just joined the living myself.”
“Good! Good for you. You really do work too hard.”
“Ah, but it’s work I enjoy.”
“True, I suppose.” Pickmore did a turn. “Is there not coffee or tea yet?”
“I’ve just sent the maid for it,” Henry answered. “Now, we need to discuss a few matters.”
“Of course, what is on your mind?” Pickmore settled into the leather chair near Henry’s desk.
