that this will be a boost to Glen Dewey. We need some excitement. And an infusion of money. If Mr. Beebs says yes and the venture goes well, perhaps we can repeat it. The village will take on new life.”
They were at the door of the Keep. She was just about to knock when the massive castle door opened.
It was Mr. Beebs himself, dressed in walking clothes and carrying a pair of opera glasses. He was of medium height and medium build, somewhere in his late thirties, and was distinguished by a high-spirited air and his prematurely snow-white hair, which he wore cut straight across his forehead.
“Oh!” he cried. “I was about to go on a hike.”
Daisy made the introductions.
He apologized right away for employing no butler as no one came to visit. “It’s awfully quiet at the Keep. But it’s a fine family you’re staying with, Lord Lumley, full of lovely ladies.”
Daisy was sorry he didn’t often visit Castle Vandemere because he was really a very nice gentleman.
She smiled back. “Yes, Miss Cassandra is busy today.”
“Is she?” Mr. Beebs squinted at a bird that flew overhead.
“She’s so clever,” said Daisy, hoping he was listening. “She’s … making candles right now.”
Which was a lie.
“She’s awfully clever,” echoed the viscount.
Mr. Beebs cocked his head. “Clever girl.”
A silence came over them, and then Daisy let out a sigh and folded her hands. “We were wondering, Mr. Beebs—”
“Yes?” His curious gray eyes bored into hers.
“We were wondering if—” Daisy bit her lip. How would she put it?
And then she simply laid out everything. Not in any particular order. She noticed Mr. Beebs slowly nodding his head occasionally as if he didn’t quite understand what she was getting at, but eventually, he nodded his head at a faster tempo—much faster—and said, “Right, I see,” over and over.
“Well?” She tried not to hold her breath.
The overseer winced. “I don’t know about that. It’s quite a hefty proposition.”
“But—”
“No, I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery. It won’t work.”
“If we give you a portion of the profits?” Charlie suggested.
Mr. Beebs shook his head. “I don’t need any money.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I’m so sorry to hear this, Mr. Beebs. I—I was looking forward to the men’s dance competition, especially the sword dance. Rumor has it you were once a champion sword dancer yourself, where you grew up, near Aberdeen. Of course, that’s probably a silly story—”
“No.” Mr. Beebs drew in his chin. “I was a champion sword dancer, as a matter of fact. But I haven’t danced in years—”
“What a pity the younger generation won’t have the same opportunity.” Daisy released a wistful sigh and turned to look down the glen at the village. “I’ve never seen a Highland games in Glen Dewey. I suppose I never shall. Neither shall my stepsisters. I know Cassandra, in particular, was looking forward to it.”
When Mr. Beebs cleared his throat, Daisy turned back around with a flare of hope in her heart.
“When would this event take place?” he asked her.
“As soon as we can find people to come.”
“Well, now,” he said gruffly, “perhaps we can work this out, after all.”
Daisy exchanged a secret smile with Charlie.
“I’ve a standing invitation to stay with a bird-watching friend of mine near Edinburgh,” Mr. Beebs explained. “And if I go now, I can combine business with pleasure. Last month I received a letter from one of the magistrates in London who handle the Keep’s affairs. He asked if I’d be in Edinburgh at all this summer—he’s there for several months and would like to discuss estate matters in more detail than letter-writing permits. You see, the Keep’s only recently changed hands, about five years ago.”
“That’s considered recent?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” said Mr. Beebs, “in terms of longevity of possession. Some of these properties stay in a family for
They were at the door of the Keep. She was just about to knock when the massive castle door opened.
It was Mr. Beebs himself, dressed in walking clothes and carrying a pair of opera glasses. He was of medium height and medium build, somewhere in his late thirties, and was distinguished by a high-spirited air and his prematurely snow-white hair, which he wore cut straight across his forehead.
“Oh!” he cried. “I was about to go on a hike.”
Daisy made the introductions.
He apologized right away for employing no butler as no one came to visit. “It’s awfully quiet at the Keep. But it’s a fine family you’re staying with, Lord Lumley, full of lovely ladies.”
Daisy was sorry he didn’t often visit Castle Vandemere because he was really a very nice gentleman.
She smiled back. “Yes, Miss Cassandra is busy today.”
“Is she?” Mr. Beebs squinted at a bird that flew overhead.
“She’s so clever,” said Daisy, hoping he was listening. “She’s … making candles right now.”
Which was a lie.
“She’s awfully clever,” echoed the viscount.
Mr. Beebs cocked his head. “Clever girl.”
A silence came over them, and then Daisy let out a sigh and folded her hands. “We were wondering, Mr. Beebs—”
“Yes?” His curious gray eyes bored into hers.
“We were wondering if—” Daisy bit her lip. How would she put it?
And then she simply laid out everything. Not in any particular order. She noticed Mr. Beebs slowly nodding his head occasionally as if he didn’t quite understand what she was getting at, but eventually, he nodded his head at a faster tempo—much faster—and said, “Right, I see,” over and over.
“Well?” She tried not to hold her breath.
The overseer winced. “I don’t know about that. It’s quite a hefty proposition.”
“But—”
“No, I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery. It won’t work.”
“If we give you a portion of the profits?” Charlie suggested.
Mr. Beebs shook his head. “I don’t need any money.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I’m so sorry to hear this, Mr. Beebs. I—I was looking forward to the men’s dance competition, especially the sword dance. Rumor has it you were once a champion sword dancer yourself, where you grew up, near Aberdeen. Of course, that’s probably a silly story—”
“No.” Mr. Beebs drew in his chin. “I was a champion sword dancer, as a matter of fact. But I haven’t danced in years—”
“What a pity the younger generation won’t have the same opportunity.” Daisy released a wistful sigh and turned to look down the glen at the village. “I’ve never seen a Highland games in Glen Dewey. I suppose I never shall. Neither shall my stepsisters. I know Cassandra, in particular, was looking forward to it.”
When Mr. Beebs cleared his throat, Daisy turned back around with a flare of hope in her heart.
“When would this event take place?” he asked her.
“As soon as we can find people to come.”
“Well, now,” he said gruffly, “perhaps we can work this out, after all.”
Daisy exchanged a secret smile with Charlie.
“I’ve a standing invitation to stay with a bird-watching friend of mine near Edinburgh,” Mr. Beebs explained. “And if I go now, I can combine business with pleasure. Last month I received a letter from one of the magistrates in London who handle the Keep’s affairs. He asked if I’d be in Edinburgh at all this summer—he’s there for several months and would like to discuss estate matters in more detail than letter-writing permits. You see, the Keep’s only recently changed hands, about five years ago.”
“That’s considered recent?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” said Mr. Beebs, “in terms of longevity of possession. Some of these properties stay in a family for
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