“You—”
“I beg your pardon, but I must ask you to remain quiet for now. My aunt will wish to hear anything you have to say.”
“But who—”
“I am Miss Cecilia Bassingthwaite. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Another word and I shall have to kill you.”
“You won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know of Cecilia Bassingthwaite. Despite your blighted parentage, you have a reputation for gentle, ladylike refinement. You won’t kill me.”
Cecilia considered this. She did not mind so much her parents being cast as blighted, since it could hardly be disputed;gentle, however, sounded like an insult. “Perhaps not kill you,” she agreed. “But I will happily render you unconscious and then sell you back to your family for an exorbitant ransom.”
“Fair enough,” the girl conceded, and they walked together in silence toward the front door of Darlington House.
As they approached, the house came to rest on the grass, and a moment later Pleasance opened the door.
“Good evening, miss,” she said with a curtsy, as if Cecilia had returned from an afternoon stroll with a lady of thehaut ton.
Cecilia prodded the girl with her rifle. “Do go in. Wipe your feet on the mat.”
“But—”
“I would rather you just did as I asked.”
The girl sighed, and Cecilia got the sense she was rolling her eyes with exasperation. She appeared to be two or three years younger than Cecilia herself, and her hair was worn down. An extravagant black bow secured it in a ponytail and rather got in the way of Cecilia’s gun. But the girl was also wearing trousers and a man’s shirt, by which Cecilia understood her to be either a pirate or a farmer’s plucky young daughter fed up with houses landing on her father’s strawberry fields.
They entered the house, utilizing the mat as they did, and Cecilia was glad to see no bowls or vases had been damaged in the maneuvering. Miss Darlington appeared at the top of the stairs and began a stately descent. The girl watched her wide-eyed, mouth slightly ajar.Miss Darlington had been known in her youth as a hearty lass, but seventy years of battle and enthusiastic ballroom dancing had rendered her dependent on both a cane and the handrail. Her piratical majesty was undinted, however, and her black bombazine dress billowed slightly in the manner of a brigantine’s flag as she took the stairs.
The girl curtsied. “Miss Darlington,” she said in reverent tones.
“Who are you?” Miss Darlington demanded.
“Constantinopla Brown, ma’am.”
Miss Darlington frowned in the severe manner that indicated she was feeling pleasantly surprised. “Not Anne Brown’s granddaughter?”
“The same, ma’am.”
“The last time I saw you was at the Scottish border. Your mother was helping me dispatch a gang of ruffians. She had you in a sling and at one point you reached out with your wee little hand and grabbed a fellow’s blunderbuss. In his surprise, he pulled the trigger, shot dead his captain, and lost his balance from the kick of the gun. Fell into quicksand. Most distressing. It took me three days to get the splashes of muck washed out of my dress. But you helped us win that skirmish, young lady. Good job.”
The girl blushed at this praise. Cecilia raised one eloquent eyebrow but hastily lowered it again before anyone noticed.
“I never thought I’d see the day when little Constantinopla would be shooting out the windows of my house. Cecilia!” she snapped without shifting her gaze from the trousered girl, “put down that rifle at once. Ladies do not point guns at friends. At least, not on happy occasions such as these.”
“I’m sorry I shot,” Constantinopla said, “but you were advised beforehand.”
“Advised?”
“Yes, ma’am, in the letter you were sent. It contained a postscript...”
Miss Darlington drew the letter from her waistband and opened it. Her lips moved as she perused the contents. “The only postscript is PCAP.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Constantinopla nodded vigorously, causing her hair bow to waggle. “As you can see, I had no choice but to shoot.”
“PCAP,” Miss Darlington repeated. “Please contribute a plate. It’s standard practice when the Society meets. Pleasance has been making mushroom and shrimp canapés all afternoon.”
