information out of anyone if he chose. Yes, he would do quite nicely, I concluded.
And just as I made up my mind to make a partner of him, Plum entered the breakfast room, resplendent in a cherry-coloured waistcoat and a cravat of striped green and white.
“It is a very fine day today,” I told him. “So fine it would be a waste for you to stay at the Peacocks,” I began with an eye to inviting him upon my investigations.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “And that is why I mean to begin my sketches of Kanchenjunga. I have in mind a series of paintings based upon the mountain, perhaps even a mural.”
He attacked his food with gusto. “And you?”
I summoned a bleak smile. “I suppose I shall pay some calls. Alone.”
Determined to pursue my investigations even if I must do so alone, I collected my things and left word with Miss Cavendish not to expect me to luncheon. The second cook provided me with a bit of flat Indian bread and some crumbling white cheese to put into my pocket should I have need of it, and I took up my parasol, buoyed by the thought of properly beginning my own investigation at last. I had just reached the front door of the Peacocks when I heard my name called. I turned to find Harry emerging from his office carrying a small bundle.
“If you mean to go abroad on your own, you must take this,” he advised me, unwrapping the bundle and holding out hishand. Upon his palm lay a small pistol, a delicate feminine piece with mother-of-pearl inlaid upon the grip.
“It looks like a toy,” I observed. “A very pretty toy.”
“Pretty but lethal,” he corrected. “You were country-bred, so I presume you know how to fire it. Mind you’re careful. It is loaded.”
He brandished the pistol and I shied. “Is the valley so thick with brigands that I must go armed?” I asked with a forced air of jollity.
But he was stingy with his charming smiles that day, and I was struck by the seriousness of his expression. “Not brigands. Tigers, one in particular, as I am sure you have heard. He’s a nasty brute, and you are our responsibility. I have already made certain that Mr. March was armed before he left to go sketching. I would be remiss if I did not do the same for you, Lady Julia.”
I reached a tentative hand to take the pistol from him. “Forgive me, but I hardly think so small a gun could stop a tiger,” I observed.
“It is not for the tiger,” he said soberly. “It holds two shots. The first is for you should you be attacked.”
My mouth felt suddenly dry, my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth. I tried to swallow. “And the second?” I asked. I raised my eyes from the pistol in my hand to his grim gaze.
“There would not be time for the second. Believe me when I tell you not to hesitate. I have seen the alternative and it is not the sort of death any human being should suffer.”
I secured the pistol in my pocket. “I suppose I ought to thank you, Mr. Cavendish, for the loan of the weapon.”
“Pray God you never have to use it.”
He swung round on his booted heel and left me then, returning to his office and closing the door firmly behind him. I felt the weight of the pistol, small as it was, through the layers of petticoats. I sighed, wishing yet again that Brisbane had come. But he had not, and mooning about would solve nothing, I reminded myself firmly. I went in search of Jolly.
I had a few details to discuss with him, but he quickly sorted out what I required and in a matter of minutes presented me with Feuilly. The bird was wearing a collar and lead of thin gilded leather, walking sedately behind the butler. I blinked at the sight of them.
“I apologise, Jolly, if I was not clear in my request. I want to return Feuilly to his previous owner on behalf of Mrs. Cavendish. I need a basket of some sort, and a wheeled conveyance.”
Jolly inclined his head. “This thing is not possible, Memsa Julie,” he said with his usual courtliness.
“I thought there was a
And just as I made up my mind to make a partner of him, Plum entered the breakfast room, resplendent in a cherry-coloured waistcoat and a cravat of striped green and white.
“It is a very fine day today,” I told him. “So fine it would be a waste for you to stay at the Peacocks,” I began with an eye to inviting him upon my investigations.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “And that is why I mean to begin my sketches of Kanchenjunga. I have in mind a series of paintings based upon the mountain, perhaps even a mural.”
He attacked his food with gusto. “And you?”
I summoned a bleak smile. “I suppose I shall pay some calls. Alone.”
Determined to pursue my investigations even if I must do so alone, I collected my things and left word with Miss Cavendish not to expect me to luncheon. The second cook provided me with a bit of flat Indian bread and some crumbling white cheese to put into my pocket should I have need of it, and I took up my parasol, buoyed by the thought of properly beginning my own investigation at last. I had just reached the front door of the Peacocks when I heard my name called. I turned to find Harry emerging from his office carrying a small bundle.
“If you mean to go abroad on your own, you must take this,” he advised me, unwrapping the bundle and holding out hishand. Upon his palm lay a small pistol, a delicate feminine piece with mother-of-pearl inlaid upon the grip.
“It looks like a toy,” I observed. “A very pretty toy.”
“Pretty but lethal,” he corrected. “You were country-bred, so I presume you know how to fire it. Mind you’re careful. It is loaded.”
He brandished the pistol and I shied. “Is the valley so thick with brigands that I must go armed?” I asked with a forced air of jollity.
But he was stingy with his charming smiles that day, and I was struck by the seriousness of his expression. “Not brigands. Tigers, one in particular, as I am sure you have heard. He’s a nasty brute, and you are our responsibility. I have already made certain that Mr. March was armed before he left to go sketching. I would be remiss if I did not do the same for you, Lady Julia.”
I reached a tentative hand to take the pistol from him. “Forgive me, but I hardly think so small a gun could stop a tiger,” I observed.
“It is not for the tiger,” he said soberly. “It holds two shots. The first is for you should you be attacked.”
My mouth felt suddenly dry, my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth. I tried to swallow. “And the second?” I asked. I raised my eyes from the pistol in my hand to his grim gaze.
“There would not be time for the second. Believe me when I tell you not to hesitate. I have seen the alternative and it is not the sort of death any human being should suffer.”
I secured the pistol in my pocket. “I suppose I ought to thank you, Mr. Cavendish, for the loan of the weapon.”
“Pray God you never have to use it.”
He swung round on his booted heel and left me then, returning to his office and closing the door firmly behind him. I felt the weight of the pistol, small as it was, through the layers of petticoats. I sighed, wishing yet again that Brisbane had come. But he had not, and mooning about would solve nothing, I reminded myself firmly. I went in search of Jolly.
I had a few details to discuss with him, but he quickly sorted out what I required and in a matter of minutes presented me with Feuilly. The bird was wearing a collar and lead of thin gilded leather, walking sedately behind the butler. I blinked at the sight of them.
“I apologise, Jolly, if I was not clear in my request. I want to return Feuilly to his previous owner on behalf of Mrs. Cavendish. I need a basket of some sort, and a wheeled conveyance.”
Jolly inclined his head. “This thing is not possible, Memsa Julie,” he said with his usual courtliness.
“I thought there was a
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