Sick of Shadows

∨ Sick of Shadows ∧

Two

Gorgonised me from head to foot,

With a stony British stare.

– ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

The earl’s town house was in an uproar. Lady Rose and Daisy had been escorted home by Detective Superintendent Kerridge and Inspector Judd. The earl and countess were awakened to this dire news. They were told that the superintendent would return as soon as possible to interview Rose. What on earth had their daughter been up to now?

Kerridge had shrewdly guessed that he would be in deep trouble if he continued to interview Rose without her parents’ being present. Unmarried girls were not expected to have any freedom at all. Their letters were routinely read by their parents before being handed to them. And they were certainly not expected to venture outside without being chaperoned. Kerridge was sure the earl would not consider Daisy to be a suitable chaperone without the added guard of a maid and two footmen.

Although it was noon before he arrived, having come straight from Dolly’s parents, he had to wait some time until the earl and countess were dressed.

“You, again,” was the earl’s sour greeting. “What’s our Rose been up to, then? It’s those suffragettes, that’s what it is.”

“No, my lord,” said Kerridge. “It is a case of murder.”

“Where is my daughter?” shrieked Lady Polly.

“Here, Ma,” said a calm voice from the doorway. Rose had gone to her rooms to get an hour’s sleep.

“Who’s murdered?” asked the earl. He tugged the bell-rope furiously and ordered a footman to fetch his secretary, Matthew Jarvis.

“A certain Miss Dolly Tremaine.”

“Oh, that beautiful girl,” wailed Lady Polly. “But what has all this to do with my daughter?”

Matthew came in at that moment and the earl roared, “Get Cathcart. He’s got to come here now.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“Your daughter, Lady Rose Summer, had an appointment to meet Miss Tremaine at the Serpentine Bridge at six o’clock this morning.”

“Why the deuce…?”

“Miss Tremaine gave me a note at the ball last night,” said Rose. “She said she was running away. When I arrived at the bridge, I looked over and saw her lying dead in that rowing-boat dressed as the Lady of Shalott.”

“Who’s she?” demanded the earl. “She ain’t in Debrett’s, I can tell you that. Foreigner, hey?”

“The Lady of Shalott is the title of a poem by Lord Tennyson, Pa. I have a copy of his poems here. This is the famous illustration, Mr. Kerridge.”

“Any idea why she was dressed like that?”

“Miss Tremaine may have had the costume made to wear at a fancy dress ball next week.”

“Have you any idea why she would want to run away?”

“I do not know. I only know that she was bewildered and unhappy in society. Her father is a country rector and her parents would expect her to marry someone with money to offset the cost of a Season.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” muttered the earl.

“I assume you have interviewed her parents,” said Rose. “Have they any idea why she would want to run away?”

“None whatsoever,” said Kerridge. “In fact, they say that she was about to be engaged before the Season even started. To a certain Lord Berrow.”

“Lord Berrow is old,” said Rose. “That is probably the reason she wanted to run away.”

“Fiddlesticks,” said Lady Polly. “The trouble is that girls these days will read cheap romances. One does not marry for love.”

“Steady on, old girl,” protested the earl.

“We were a rare exception,” said Lady Polly. “Where is this rector’s church?”

“Probably somewhere dire like Much-Slopping-in-the Bog,” said the earl. “Hey, rather neat that, what?”

Quite amazing, thought Kerridge. Their only child has just discovered a murder and yet they seem to have no concern for her welfare.

“Captain Cathcart,” announced the butler.

“How did he get here so quickly?” asked the earl.

“He’s got a motor car,” said Rose.

“Nasty, smelly things. Never replace the horse. Sit down, Cathcart.” The earl pointed a finger at Rose. “Rose is in trouble again.”

Kerridge reflected briefly that one of his mother’s lectures had been, “Don’t point. Ladies and gentlemen don’t point.” This lot would have been an eye-opener, thought Kerridge sourly.

“Lady Rose,” he began, “discovered the murdered body of a Miss Dolly Tremaine early this morning.” Harry listened intently as Kerridge outlined all he knew.

“What do her family say?” asked Harry. “Had she any enemies?”

“They are grief-stricken and bewildered. They do not know of any enemies.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“One son, Jeremy, aged twenty-seven. I think they might come up with more information when they get over the shock.”

“Odd, that,” commented the earl. “Only two children. Thought those Church of England fellows bred like rabbits.”

“Not in front of Rose,” said Lady Polly. Then she stifled a sigh, thinking of all the little graves in the churchyard at Stacey Court, their country estate – all eight of Rose’s little brothers and sisters who had died in childbirth.

“When did you leave the ball last night?” Harry asked Rose.

“Around two in the morning.”

“And was Miss Tremaine still there?”

“I remember no longer seeing her around midnight.”

“So sometime between, say, midnight and six in the morning, someone murdered her and dressed the body. You will need to search the rector’s town house.”

“The parents say her bed was not slept in. She planned to run away,” said Kerridge. “She may have changed into that costume to please a lover who then murdered her.”

“I don’t like this,” said Harry. “I think whoever murdered her knew she was going to meet Lady Rose early in the morning. Lady Rose, do you still have that note?”

“I must have dropped it at the ball. But I remember putting it in my reticule, which I left with Daisy when I danced.”

“We’d better have Daisy here.”

Lady Polly ordered Daisy to be brought to the drawing-room.

When she entered, Kerridge said, “Lady Rose says she left her reticule with you while she danced. Did you leave it unattended at any time?”

“I left it on a chair when I danced with the captain,” said Daisy. “I was sitting next to Countess Slerely. I usually do. Anyone picking it up and searching in it would be noticed.”

“I think you danced with Captain Cathcart before Dolly gave me that note,” said Rose. “Did you leave at any other time?”

“Well, one time I had to go to the you-know-what. That was just before midnight.”

“I’d better call on Countess Slerely,” said Kerridge. “Lady Rose, if you can think of anything else…”

“No, she can’t,” said the earl. “She shouldn’t have been out at that ungodly hour unchaperoned.”

“I was there,” said Daisy.

The earl ignored her. “No more cycling for you, young lady. Go to your room.”

“As for you,” said the earl, glaring at Harry, “as my daughter is somehow involved in this, I expect you to clear things up as soon as possible. And while you’re here, what do you think you are doing ignoring my daughter in such a manner?”

“I am sorry. My apologies, but pressure of work – ”

“Pah! Behave yourself in future or I shall call off this ridiculous engagement myself.”

♦

“I wonder,” said Harry later that day to his manservant, “where Dr. Tremaine got enough money to take a house for the Season and to furnish an expensive wardrobe for his daughter.”

“He’s well-connected,” said Becket. “His aunt was Lady Tremaine and she married well and left him quite a large legacy.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“You always tell me to listen to servants’ gossip. The Running Footman where a lot of them drink is an amazing source of information.”

“I suggest you take yourself there this evening and try to find out what you can about the family.”

“May I have some money to entertain, sir?”

“Of course,” said Harry, hurriedly pulling out his wallet. He drew out a large white five-pound note. “Will this be enough?”

“More than enough. I will bring you the change.”

“You may keep any change for further bribery.”

“Do you think, sir, that Lady Rose and Miss Levine will be safe?”

“Why?”

“The murderer may think that Miss Tremaine told Lady Rose much more than she actually did.”

Harry shifted uneasily. “I am sure they will be all right. I wonder about Lord Berrow. He’s in his fifties, is he not?”

“I believe so. He is a widower. Gossip says he drove his wife to an early grave with his womanizing.”

“Indeed! So what was saintly Dr. Tremaine about to even consider handing his daughter over to such a man?”

“Lord Berrow is very rich.”

“Ah. Do you not find our society very corrupt, Becket?”

“It is not for me to say. Will you be going out this evening?”

“Yes, I may as well call on my fiancée. Her father has accused me of neglect.”

Harry had to wait quite a long time while the earl and countess argued over whether he should see their daughter. “I was hoping this deuced engagement would just fizzle out,” said the earl.

“We should have sent Rose to India. Mrs. Fanshawe’s daughter, who is mortally plain, went out and secured the affections of Colonel Brady. Nonetheless, perhaps if Rose sees more of Captain Cathcart, she will realize her folly. She does seem to be forming a tendre for Sir Peter.”

And so they discussed and argued while Harry paced up and down the hall.

At last he was summoned and told that he might have fifteen minutes alone with Rose, provided the door of the drawing-room stayed open.

Before leaving them, Lady Polly watched as Harry rushed forward and, seizing Rose’s hands in his, kissed them both. When she had gone, Rose, blushing, snatched her hands away and demanded, “What do you want?”

“I am concerned for your safety. As Becket has just pointed out to me, your life might be in danger. Do be very careful.”

“I am tired of being careful,” snapped Rose. “I am tired of dressing and undressing and sitting down to enormous banquets which might alleviate some of the misery of the poor of London.”

“I thought you might be interested in finding out the identity of the murderer?”

Rose’s blue eyes lit up with sudden interest.

“How could I do that?”

“This Lord Berrow. If I go to interview him, he will probably clam up. But if you were to meet him socially and start to talk about poor Dolly, then he might tell you more than he would tell either me or Kerridge.”

In Scotland Yard, Kerridge was being told that his application to search the rector’s town house had been refused and he also got a blistering lecture on his lack of sensitivity in proposing to add more grief to an already grieving family.

He felt tired. He had earlier interviewed Lord Berrow, who had simply stared insolently at him and then threatened to report him to the prime minister.

Harry heard a movement on the landing outside the drawing-room, gathered Rose in his arms and kissed her gently on the forehead just as Lady Polly entered the room.

“You may go now,” said Lady Polly. “I have cancelled my daughter’s social engagements for the next two days. After that, I will apprise you of her calendar and I expect you to be on hand to escort her.”

“Delighted,” said Harry and bowed his way out.

Outside, he could still somehow smell the light flower perfume that Rose wore and he swore so loudly that a lady walking her dog stared at him in outrage.

♦

Two days later, Brum, the butler, brought in the morning post as usual on a small silver tray and placed it at the earl’s elbow as his lordship was eating breakfast.

Rose looked at the little pile of letters. Had she been a man and not a girl, she thought angrily, any letters addressed to her would have been given to her unopened. Not that there was really anything personal addressed to her, but she lived in hope that perhaps Harry might write to let her know how the case was progressing.

The earl put down his knife and fork and riffled through the letters. Then he rang the bell. “Give these to Mr. Jarvis,” he said to Brum. “Nothing of interest here.”

“There is one letter addressed to Lady Rose,” said Brum.

“Is there? I didn’t notice. Let me have it.”

“I really think I am capable of reading it myself,” said Rose.

Her father paid no attention. He lifted up a letter and stared at it. Then he held out his hand and Brum handed him a letter opener from the tray.

“Harrumph, let me see. Good Gad!”

“What is it?” asked Lady Polly.

“Give me that letter, Pa!” shouted Rose.

“You go to your room, miss. You, too, Levine, and get Cathcart!”

“What can it be?” asked Rose, as she and Daisy sat in Rose’s private sitting-room.

“Maybe one of your admirers sent an over-warm letter and Lord Hadfield’s getting the captain to frighten him off.”

Daisy stood up and walked to the mirror. Rose had presented her companion with a morning gown of white lace decorated with little red roses. Daisy admired her reflection in the glass and then wondered if she would ever have a chance to show it off to Becket.

She had an idea. “Maybe the captain will bring Becket with him and Becket will wait in the hall. I could nip down and see if he knows what’s going on.”

“Good idea. But you know what Pa is like. The captain will have simply been summoned without any explanation being given.”

“I’ll watch from the window and see if I can see them arriving.”

Rose fidgeted while Daisy looked down from the window. At last, after what seemed like an age, she saw the captain’s car stop outside, with Becket at the wheel.

“They’re here!” cried Daisy. “Won’t be long.”

Daisy waited outside on the landing until she heard the captain being ushered into the breakfast room and then ran lightly down the stairs.

Becket was standing in the hall.

“Why, Daisy!” he exclaimed. “You do look like such a fine lady.”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” said Daisy, smoothing down her gown with complacent fingers. “What’s going on?”

“At first the captain refused,” said Becket in a low voice, “because he’s busy and he doesn’t like the way Lord Hadfield expects him to drop everything and come running. So the secretary, Mr. Jarvis, he phones back and says that Lady Rose has received a death threat.”

“Oh, my stars and garters!” said Daisy. “This is bad. Rose has had a bad shock. She looks as cool as anything but I heard her crying during the night. I hope they don’t decide to ship her off to India after all!”

“The story’s been in all the papers. Probably some nutter.”

♦

“Probably a madman,” Harry was saying. “I’ll take this round to Scotland Yard. Kerridge will want to see if he can get any fingerprints off the letter. I mean, it must be from someone deranged.” He studied the letter again. It consisted of letters cut out from magazines and the message read, “Dear Lady Rose, Keep your mouth shut about what Dolly told you or you’ll be next. A Well-Wisher.”

“I mean,” Harry went on, “any sane person would assume that Lady Rose had already told Scotland Yard everything she knew.”

Matthew Jarvis, standing behind the earl’s chair, gave a slight cough. “If I may be so bold, my lord…”

“Go on. What is it?”

“There was an article in the Daily Mail yesterday which speculated that Lady Rose probably knew the dark secret of what had caused Miss Tremaine to say she was running away but was keeping quiet out of loyalty to her friend.”

“Rubbish,” said Harry. “Lady Rose barely knew the girl.”

“How did the papers find out that my daughter was even involved?” raged the earl.

“I’m sure they have some pet policeman at Scotland Yard in their pay, not to mention the bribes they give to servants.”

“A reporter tried to bribe me,” said Brum. “But I sent him off with a flea in his ear, my lord. I told him I was due for a raise in salary anyway.”

“Are you?” asked the earl, bewildered.

Harry looked briefly amused. “I think Brum means that he is now.”

The earl twisted round and goggled at his butler. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

The butler raised his gloved hands in horror. “I would not dream of it, my lord. But your lordship did promise me a raise in salary after a number of years.”

“Did I? Oh, well, see to it Mr. Jarvis.”

“My lord…” began Brum.

“What now?”

“If I may speak, my lord. It concerns Lady Rose and her dark secret.”

“She doesn’t have a dark secret!” howled the earl. “Oh, what is it?”

“The Morning Bugle has picked up on the Daily Mail’s story and has a large feature on Lady Rose about her involvement in previous murders and the fact that her fiancé is the captain here. They have published a photograph of Lady Rose taken a year ago at a garden party in which she looks sad. They say she must break the bounds of loyalty and tell the police what she knows. I did not wish to distress you, but several newspapers were on the doorstep yesterday.”

Harry eyed Brum’s impassive face and was suddenly sure that the butler had taken money from the reporters and had supplied them with fantasies about Rose in return.

“This is serious,” said Harry. “I should have read the popular papers instead of the Times. I am afraid Lady Rose will need to be kept indoors until we are sure she is safe.”

Rose was summoned. She turned slightly pale when she realized Harry was taking the threat seriously. Daisy had just told her about the letter.

“It may be just some crank,” said Harry soothingly, “but it is as well to be safe.”

♦

Rose and Daisy were kept indoors. Rose had books to read to pass the time but Daisy felt she would die of boredom and repeatedly said she could not understand why the ban on going out of doors applied to her as well.

One bright sunny day after they had been kept in for almost two weeks, even Rose began to feel she could not bear this form of genteel imprisonment any more.

She stood by the window looking down at the square. “If only we could go outside for a little walk,” she mourned.

“We could try,” said Daisy eagerly. “Lord and Lady Hadfield have gone down to Stacey Court for the weekend.”

“They might have told me. Why go into the country?”

“Some boundary dispute.”

“I do think my parents are a trifle odd. They might have said something to me at dinner last night.”

“Maybe they didn’t want to tell you in case you thought it a good opportunity to get out of the house.”

“Brum will stop us going. And what about Turner?” Turner was Lady Rose’s recently hired lady’s maid.

“I’ll tell them you have a headache and want to be left alone,” said Daisy eagerly. “Then we can wait until they are taking their luncheon and slip out. With my lord and lady being away, they’ll be careless about guarding us. They’ll be sitting down for luncheon any minute now. You wait here and I’ll tell Turner to join the others for luncheon as she will not be needed for the rest of the day.”

Rose waited eagerly for Daisy’s return. Daisy was back after only a few minutes. “Let’s wear our plainest clothes,” said Daisy. “We don’t want to attract any attention to ourselves, even though the press have given up watching the house.”

They changed quickly, Rose into a straight skirt, striped blouse and jacket and sailor hat, and Daisy also into a blouse, skirt and jacket but with one of Rose’s old straw hats embellished with flowers on her head.

They crept together down the stairs and quietly let themselves out through the front door and then scampered along the square, giggling and hanging on to each other, thrilled with the combination of sunshine and freedom.

“Where now?” panted Rose.

“Let’s look at the shops and try on hats,” said Daisy, happy that now she and Rose seemed to be friends again instead of mistress and companion.

By mid-afternoon, they realized they were hungry and went to the tea-room at Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly.

William Fortnum, who founded the famous store, was a footman in the royal household of Queen Anne. His job was to replace the candles every night and he made a tidy profit out of selling the old ones. He also had a sideline as a grocer.

He persuaded his landlord, Hugh Mason, to go into the grocery business with him and Fortnum and Mason was born.

Daisy and Rose had salmon in aspic embellished with prawns and lobster before they got down to the serious cake-eating business.

They chatted happily about this and that and then began to discuss the threatening letter. “I am sure it was some crank,” said Rose. “I am in no danger at all. I think we should sneak into the study and phone the captain. He must persuade Pa to let me go out again.” She blushed suddenly, remembering again the feel of his lips against her forehead.

Rose paid the bill and they walked out into Piccadilly, knowing that they had to return home and beginning to feel depressed.

“Cheer up,” said Daisy. “I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re out and about.” She stopped in front of a milliner’s. “I say, do look at that hat. They must ha’ slaughtered a whole aviary. It’s got more stuffed birds on it than’s decent.”

“My lace has come untied,” said Rose, stooping down.

There was a sharp report. The milliner’s window shattered just as Daisy grabbed hold of Rose and fell back onto the pavement with her. People began screaming. Some man shouted, “He had a gun! He had a gun!”

Rose and Daisy got unsteadily to their feet. Daisy brushed shards of glass off their clothes with a trembling hand. Commotion surrounded them. The milliner came out screaming that they had broken her window. Others were saying someone had fired a shot. Finally, to Rose’s relief, a constable pushed his way to the front, demanding to know what was going on.

“I d-don’t know,” said Rose, on the verge of tears.

“Someone tried to shoot her,” said Daisy. “You should be asking for witnesses. He’ll be miles away by now.”

“You trying to tell me how to do my job, young lady? Let’s be ’aving your name.”

“I’m Miss Daisy Levine, companion to Lady Rose Summer. This is Lady Rose Summer.”

More policemen arrived on the scene. Rose explained that as she bent down to tie her bootlace, a bullet had whizzed over her head and shattered the window. “I assume it was a bullet,” she said, “because I heard someone shouting, ‘He’s got a gun.’ ”

A police inspector joined them just in time to hear Rose’s last words. “Get into that crowd,” he roared, “and get hold of anyone who saw this man.”

At last a small, fussy elderly man was propelled through the crowd to the inspector.

“There was a lot of traffic, officer. I noticed him because he had an odd colour of red hair. He stood in the middle of the traffic behind a hackney carriage and I wondered why he did not cross. Then, as the traffic in front of him cleared, he pulled out a gun and fired.”

“Age? What was he wearing?”

“He was wearing a long black cloak. Oh, and he had pincenez. No hat.”

Another two witness were brought forward. They said they had seen the man with the red hair and black cloak run away in the direction of the Green Park.

The inspector snapped out orders. The park was to be searched immediately and all the streets round about.

Kerridge had been talking to Harry when the phone on his desk rang. When he answered it, Harry, to his dismay, heard Kerridge exclaim, “Lady Rose! Shot! I’ll be down there right away.”

“Is she dead?” asked Harry. “Please don’t tell me she’s dead.”

“No. Someone fired a shot at her in Piccadilly. She bent down to tie her bootlace and that’s what saved her. Lady Rose is being escorted home. We’d better go there.”

Lord and Lady Hadfield were heading back to London, a local policeman having been sent to tell them about the attack on their daughter.

“I’ve had enough,” said the earl. “The only thing is to send her out of the country where she’ll be safe. I must say Cathcart’s been a fat lot of good at protecting her.”

“It’s Rose’s fault,” moaned the countess. “Always wilful. And what were the servants about to let her leave the house?”

“If Brum thinks he’s getting any sort of raise in pay after this, he can forget it,” raged her husband.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Lady Polly uneasily. “He might talk to the press.”

Rose was beginning to feel exhausted as she told her story over and over again to Harry and the superintendent. Matthew had told her that her parents were on their way back and she felt sure that nothing now would stop them from packing her off to India. Inspector Judd had been placed on guard outside the drawing-room to make sure none of the servants was listening outside the door.

“I think the fellow was probably wearing a wig,” said Harry. “I mean the wig, the pince-nez and the black cloak are really all that anyone can remember. I think, Lady Rose, that it would be a good idea to get you out of London for a bit, but not to Stacey Court. You would not even be safe in your country home. I wish we could lock you up in a police station.”

“Wait!” Kerridge held up a hand for silence. “I’ve got an idea.”

Rose and Harry waited patiently while the superintendent sat lost in thought. He was a grey man with grey hair and bushy grey eyebrows. “I correspond still with a policeman in a village called Drifton, near Scarborough in Yorkshire. I met him once when I was up there on a case. Regular chap with a delightful family. Lovely village which no outsider visits. What if Lady Rose and Miss Levine here were billeted with him for a bit? He could do with a bit of extra money.”

“I cannot see my parents’ accepting that idea,” said Rose stiffly. “Furthermore, I have no desire to live with a policeman in some Yorkshire village.”

There was a commotion downstairs. The earl and countess had arrived home. They could hear the earl shouting, “Where is she? And get those damned reporters off my front step.”

He entered the drawing-room, shrugging off his sealskin coat and dropping it to the floor. A footman picked it up and handed it to the earl’s valet.

Kerridge thought it odd that Lady Polly did not hug her daughter. She simply sat down, unpinning her hat and handing it to her maid, before haranguing Rose for having dared to leave the house.

“I have an idea, my lady,” said Kerridge. He told them about his policeman friend in the Yorkshire village.

The earl and countess stared at him in silence. Rose waited for her parents to tell the superintendent he was talking rubbish.

To her dismay, her mother said slowly, “How long would Lady Rose be away?”

“Several months, I’m afraid. Give us a chance to catch this fellow.”

Rose’s parents fell silent again. Lady Polly thought of months without having to worry and worry about her troublesome daughter. She and her husband enjoyed society but they had had little enjoyment recently because of fretting about Rose’s odd engagement.

The earl was thinking that several months away from Cathcart and she might change her mind about this ridiculous engagement.

“Is this policeman respectable?” he asked.

“Oh, very,” said Kerridge. “Good church-goer.”

“And does he have children?”

“Got five young ’uns.”

“Would the police station have enough room to house my daughter and Daisy?”

“Big old rabbit warren of a place. I’m sure he’d find room. I’ll telephone him now, if you like.”

“He has a telephone?” asked the earl, who thought that magic instrument was only confined to the upper reaches of society.

“Yes, he has, my lord.”

“Why can’t I stay with Aunt Dizzy in Scotland, or Aunt Matilda in Dover?” asked Rose.

“Because this murderer can find out who your relatives are and I don’t want you anywhere where there are servants who might talk. Would you like me to telephone this man? He is P.C. Bert Shufflebottom.”

Daisy giggled. “What a name!”

“I’ll have you know, my girl, that Shufflebottom is a good old Yorkshire name.”

The earl made up his mind. He rang the bell. “Get Mr. Jarvis here.” When the secretary entered, he told him to take the superintendent to the telephone.

Rose hoped against hope that the policeman would refuse. How could she help Harry with the case if she was stuck up in the wilds of Yorkshire?

But Kerridge was soon back. “He says he’ll be delighted. I assume, my lord, you will be paying him something towards their keep?”

“Yes, yes, Matthew will see to it.”

“And,” put in Harry, “I think Lady Rose and Miss Levine should only take a few plain clothes. They must also use public transport. I suggest a discreet police guard until they are on the train and I would suggest the night train to York. There is bound to be a connecting train to Scarborough in the morning. Where is the nearest station to Drifton?”

“A market town called Plomley.”

“Right. They can get off at Plomley, and Kerridge will instruct this Shufflebottom to meet them there. None of the servants must know about this. Tell them they are leaving for Stacey Court. I think Mr. Jarvis can be trusted?”

“Yes,” said the earl. “About the only one.”

“Then he must look up timetables and make the arrangements. Shufflebottom must tell the locals that Lady Rose and Miss Levine are remote relatives from an until recently rich family now fallen on hard times.”

“I do not want to go to Yorkshire,” said Rose in a thin voice.

The earl rounded on her. “You’ll do what you’re told, my girl.”