outside.
“Would you care to join me and the other ladies in the withdrawing room? We were chatting before supper, and all were in agreement that we had not had the pleasure of your company very often in the past few days. I hope you are settling in nicely?”
She glanced at the room behind Chloe. Thankfully, Miss Haynes and the maids kept the room tidy. Aside from a few books and papers, it looked presentable.
“I am quite comfortable.” She thought of the book of maps with longing. She dearly wanted to go out on the moors as soon as it was light in the morning and look for the hound. The police had more manpower and knew the moors far better than she did. But she would have time after supper to go through the maps. And she could hardly refuse Beatrice’s invitation without being unpardonably rude.
“I would love to join you. Allow me to bring something to read while there.” She grabbed the first book from her nightstand and followed Beatrice through the hall and down the main staircase, Giles trailing behind.
“Thank you very much for repairing my little robin,” said Beatrice. “It’s a silly little thing, but I enjoy it. I wear it sometimes, but I mainly like to keep it in my room, near the window, and pretend that it’s alive. I have a little perch for it on the windowsill.”
“Why don’t you get a real bird?”
She shrugged. “A cage by the window just seems … I don’t know. Cruel somehow. Now, a little pet like your Giles, that might be a pleasant companion.”
“I would gladly make you one, but he is a prototype.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s an experiment. He’s not entirely—well, not perfectly functional. He still makes mistakes and has some difficulty with verbal commands. But, in time, once I get all the imperfections worked out, I would be pleased to send you a little cat of your own. It would probably be a good year or two, however.”
They entered the withdrawing room. It was tastefully decorated, showcasing the wealth and status of the family without being showy. The room was feminine, with lacy curtains and floral-printed upholstery on the deep-buttoned sofa and matching chairs. A collection of ceramic milkmaids, various candlesticks, a clock and a potted fern crowded for position on the mantle.
Dora played softly at a piano in the corner of the room. She looked up and nodded to Beatrice and Chloe. Mrs. Malone was reading in one of the chairs with her back to the window to catch the best light. Beatrice picked up an embroidery sampler that was sitting on the sofa and indicated that Chloe should sit beside her. Giles jumped up and settled himself on Chloe’s other side.
“Mr. Baxter, Dora’s fiancé, will be coming to supper tonight,” said Beatrice. “We are all hoping he will regale us with more stories of his exploits in South America or India or wherever else he has been of late.”
Dora put away her sheet music and joined them.
“Please tell me about Mr. Baxter and the wedding,” said Chloe. With luck, the other women would carry the conversation, with her inserting polite encouragements. Once the topics of Dora’s fiancé and their impending nuptials were exhausted, she knew to ask about fashion. Let it not be said that she could not be feminine and social if she chose.
“Well, the flowers are going to be imported from a florist in Bristol,” Dora said, leaning forward. “In a refrigerated railway car. Can you imagine?”
“I thought the cold cars were only used for some medical supplies or for—for other things,” said Chloe, stopping herself before she said that she had heard of dead bodies being transported for burial. She wondered briefly if Dora’s flowers might be sharing a car with the deceased.
“Oh no,” said Dora. “And though Papa is paying for most of it, as is proper, Mr. Baxter has allowed me to pick some things that he will pay for.”
She went on about bridal jewelry and reception tarts while Chloe nodded and smiled. Mrs. Malone and
“Would you care to join me and the other ladies in the withdrawing room? We were chatting before supper, and all were in agreement that we had not had the pleasure of your company very often in the past few days. I hope you are settling in nicely?”
She glanced at the room behind Chloe. Thankfully, Miss Haynes and the maids kept the room tidy. Aside from a few books and papers, it looked presentable.
“I am quite comfortable.” She thought of the book of maps with longing. She dearly wanted to go out on the moors as soon as it was light in the morning and look for the hound. The police had more manpower and knew the moors far better than she did. But she would have time after supper to go through the maps. And she could hardly refuse Beatrice’s invitation without being unpardonably rude.
“I would love to join you. Allow me to bring something to read while there.” She grabbed the first book from her nightstand and followed Beatrice through the hall and down the main staircase, Giles trailing behind.
“Thank you very much for repairing my little robin,” said Beatrice. “It’s a silly little thing, but I enjoy it. I wear it sometimes, but I mainly like to keep it in my room, near the window, and pretend that it’s alive. I have a little perch for it on the windowsill.”
“Why don’t you get a real bird?”
She shrugged. “A cage by the window just seems … I don’t know. Cruel somehow. Now, a little pet like your Giles, that might be a pleasant companion.”
“I would gladly make you one, but he is a prototype.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s an experiment. He’s not entirely—well, not perfectly functional. He still makes mistakes and has some difficulty with verbal commands. But, in time, once I get all the imperfections worked out, I would be pleased to send you a little cat of your own. It would probably be a good year or two, however.”
They entered the withdrawing room. It was tastefully decorated, showcasing the wealth and status of the family without being showy. The room was feminine, with lacy curtains and floral-printed upholstery on the deep-buttoned sofa and matching chairs. A collection of ceramic milkmaids, various candlesticks, a clock and a potted fern crowded for position on the mantle.
Dora played softly at a piano in the corner of the room. She looked up and nodded to Beatrice and Chloe. Mrs. Malone was reading in one of the chairs with her back to the window to catch the best light. Beatrice picked up an embroidery sampler that was sitting on the sofa and indicated that Chloe should sit beside her. Giles jumped up and settled himself on Chloe’s other side.
“Mr. Baxter, Dora’s fiancé, will be coming to supper tonight,” said Beatrice. “We are all hoping he will regale us with more stories of his exploits in South America or India or wherever else he has been of late.”
Dora put away her sheet music and joined them.
“Please tell me about Mr. Baxter and the wedding,” said Chloe. With luck, the other women would carry the conversation, with her inserting polite encouragements. Once the topics of Dora’s fiancé and their impending nuptials were exhausted, she knew to ask about fashion. Let it not be said that she could not be feminine and social if she chose.
“Well, the flowers are going to be imported from a florist in Bristol,” Dora said, leaning forward. “In a refrigerated railway car. Can you imagine?”
“I thought the cold cars were only used for some medical supplies or for—for other things,” said Chloe, stopping herself before she said that she had heard of dead bodies being transported for burial. She wondered briefly if Dora’s flowers might be sharing a car with the deceased.
“Oh no,” said Dora. “And though Papa is paying for most of it, as is proper, Mr. Baxter has allowed me to pick some things that he will pay for.”
She went on about bridal jewelry and reception tarts while Chloe nodded and smiled. Mrs. Malone and
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