“Can you decipher it, Diana?” Grandmama asked.
“Papa insisted I learn a little Latin. I think it says something likeMay the earth rest lightly on you.”
“But I wonder if it did,” Grandmama said enigmatically.
Diana turned to her. “Did what?”
Grandmama looked at her impatiently. “The earth resting lightly upon him.”
“Why would it not?”
“Camelford’s body mysteriously disappeared from a crypt in St. Anne’s Church, in Soho.”
“My goodness. How extraordinary.”
“Yes, they never discovered where the body is or who took it.”
The breeze fanned out the spray from the fountain below and dampened Diana’s cheeks as they descended the stone steps.
Spying a seat nestled in a flowery bower, Diana led her grandmother to it, to rest before they made their way back to the house.
As they sat peacefully together, contemplating the beauty of the meadow before them, voices drifted down from somewhere above them.
Spoken in the French language. Diana was fluent in French, but their voices were hushed. She could only pick up a word or two when a gust of wind carried their voices this way.
Grandmama, a little hard of hearing, sat without comment as Diana, on the edge of the wooden seat, strained to grasp a sense of their words. She wished she could stand and try to see who they were, but they would see her. Three voices. One man, although fluent in French, she suspected was an Englishman because of his accent. There appeared to be two Frenchmen speaking. Tense, Diana leaned forward and heard a few more words. They sent a chill through her. “Ballantine” and then,“traité sévèrement.” What did they mean? Ballantine was to be severely dealt with? Who were these men? Had her translation been right? If only she’d heard more. She could not have made a mistake about his title. Should she tell him? Surely, she couldn’t just ignore it?
Their voices grew fainter. They must have been moving away. Then silence. Diana leaped up. “We must return to the house.” She grasped her grandmother’s arm to help her to her feet.
“You are so impatient,” Grandmama said crossly. “Don’t rush me.”
Diana tucked her arm through Grandmama’s and led her toward the house, although they still moved at a snail’s pace. “I’m sure it’s time for tea to be served. We don’t want to miss it.”
“Well, that is the most sensible thing you’ve said today.” Taking Diana by surprise, Grandmama removed her arm and hastened along the path.
In the hall, a footman directed them to the drawing room, where they served afternoon tea to the ladies. Having seated her grandmother, Diana turned to leave the room.
“Where are you going, Diana? Tea hasn’t been served,” Grandmama called after her.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” Diana said, heading for the door.
Behind her, Grandmama spoke to a lady seated next to her on the sofa. “Young people today, always rushing about…so different from when we were young.”
Diana slipped from the room. Her grandmother’s memory must have been poor, she thought wryly, as she tried to find her way to the salon in the maze of corridors where she expected Ballantine to be. She’d heard the stories about her wily grandmama from her mother. How Grandmama had foiled her own father’s plans and married the love of her life. Diana believed she took after her.
She listened at the salon door. Men were talking, but she didn’t hear Lord Ballantine’s distinctive voice. Was he in there? What could she tell him? Having considered it, she wondered if she was rushing headlong into something that should not concern her. That would annoy him. She could not identify those men speaking French above where she’d sat with Grandmama. But since they hadn’t spotted them when they’d climbed the steps, it seemed likely they’d been hiding somewhere. Their words, if she’d heard correctly, had shocked her. What if she was wrong? Would Ballantine consider it to be nonsense? She shrugged. It was a small price to pay, surely. She grasped the latch and turned it.
*
Damian, bored withthe overblown political rhetoric spoken at length by one gentleman, considered a polite way to quit the group when the door opened.
Lady Diana popped her head in with a bright smile. “Please excuse me, gentlemen. Oh, there you are, Lord Ballantine. They have asked me to fetch you.”
Damian’s eyebrows shot up, but he stood quickly, wondering who the devil “they” were. He bowed. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.”
The door closed behind him, and he joined her in the corridor. “Who wishes to see me?”
“I do. I have an urgent matter to discuss. Let’s find somewhere to talk where we won’t be overheard.”
