“Has she?” Byron chuckled. “I certainly hope you’ve beensaying good things about me, Mary.”
“Of course,” Mary said.
“Do you shoot, Ambrose?” Mr. Risewell asked.
“A little,” Byron said. “I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to perfect the sport.”
“I was just talking with Castel. We’re putting together a party to go shooting sometime this week, if you’re up to it.” He gestured to Walker. “You as well, if you’d like.”
“We’d be happy to,” Byron said.
It didn’t seem proper to question the Risewells about the thefts with so many people in line behind them, so after exchanging a few more pleasantries, the group moved on.
“That was advantageous,” Byron whispered to her. “I might find it easier to question him in a more casual setting.”
“I’ll see about talking more with Theresia. Maybe Liza can help with that. They are about the same age.”
Byron nodded. “I believe we’ll need an introduction to speak with Admiral Hoddle. Would you rather we use my family or Maureen?”
“Why not both? He may act differently in front of your family. You and your family can approach him first while I talk with Maureen. Then she can introduce me and we can compare afterwards.”
“Splendid thought. And you can scout out the refreshment table at the same time.” He glanced in that direction. “Although, I believe Walker will be the better informant on that front.”
With that, they separated, each on their own mission. As Mira wound her way through the crowd towards the refreshment table, a bit of conversation piqued her interest. A circle of women she didn’t recognize stood together, gossiping.
“... and every year they come back, like birds to nest,” one of the ladies said.
Mira stood far enough away as to not draw attention toherself and half-pretended to admire a painting on the wall. Romantic era. Perhaps Turner.
The same lady continued, “I wonder why the Estfields dislike wintering here so much.”
“In comparison to Italy, my dear, I see their reasoning.”
“No, no,” a third chimed in. “I thought they were in the French Riviera this year.”
“They could be staying in as foreign a place as Chipping Sodbury and it wouldn’t matter to me,” the oldest of the group said. “What I find more curious is how the Risewells are handling the staff situation.” She took a sip of her drink.
“Oh yes,” said the second again. “Didn’t they bring only two servants with them and hired the rest once they arrived?”
“That isn’t so unusual, is it?” the first asked.
“No. But it is unusual for one of the two to be a gardener,” the oldest said. “It is much harder to find good butlers and footmen than it is to find gardeners.”
“Very strange with it being winter too. I would have thought the Estfields would leave their own gardener to take care of the general maintenance.”
“Oh, they did,” the oldest said.
“Why then, what need do the Risewells have for a gardener?”
The third looked towards the piano and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, someone ought to stop Miss Meredeth. She’s so heavy handed with the high notes.”
“At least she plays better than Miss Harris. That piece she exhibited a few weeks ago was simply dreadful.”
Mira frowned. Maureen played the piano rather well—her father had taught her. Perhaps it was a different Miss Harris they were talking about. She stepped away from the conversation as it continued in a more musical direction.
Could the Risewells be working with a thief? A gardenerwould have better knowledge of where to find a ladder and the use of stakes and gardening wire. They would have to look into it later. For now, she focused on tracking down Maureen Harris.
It was an easy enough prospect, as Maureen hadn’t moved from her conversation with the young gentleman, although a second gentleman had joined their circle. As she approached, Maureen lit up and beckoned her over, her yellow taffeta skirt making a rustling scroop noise as she moved.
