“There’s no need, Master Peter,” the old man said. “I quite enjoy stacking crockery.”
“Why don’t you play with the Meccano set, Peter?” Nell suggested, with a sidelong look at Emma.
“Splendid idea,” Derek said. Noting Emma’s puzzled expression, he told her, “I believe they’re called erector sets in the States. Bits of metal, pulleys, motors. It’s quite good fun. Peter built a working drawbridge for a science fair last year. Had to go into the school to explain that engineering is, in fact, a science.”
“But the table’s full,” Peter pointed out. “Where will I set it up?”
“Come on,” said Emma, kicking off her shoes, “we’ll set it up on the floor.”
“On the floor?” Peter said doubtfully.
“Why not?” said Derek, loosening his tie.
The mechanical masterpiece they created that evening would have made Rube Goldberg proud. After a tentative start, Peter hunkered down beside Emma and Derek on the rug, his tongue between his teeth and his tie askew, totally absorbed. The three of them carried on long after Crowley had cleared the table, while Queen Eleanor sat sidesaddle on the rocking horse, holding Bertie in her arms, humming softly to herself, and smiling down on them.
14
Syd Bishop came back from Plymouth the following day, ostensibly to supervise the installation of a hospital bed and other medical equipment. In fact, it was Crowley who directed the workmen, and Mattie who took charge of Susannah’s things, while the paunchy, balding agent sat in the library, a shaken man.
“She don’t know me,” he’d said, when Kate Cole had guided him into the dining room, where Emma, Derek, Peter, and Nell were just finishing a leisurely lunch. The children had greeted Mr. Bishop politely while Emma and Derek exchanged troubled glances. The man did not look well.
Kate looked even worse. “Susannah has regained consciousness,” she told them. Her voice was rough-edged, her eyes were bruised with fatigue, and her dark hair was tangled. “She seems to have lost her memory”—Syd groaned and Kate tightened her hold on his arm—“but it may be only a temporary condition. Dr. Singh hopes she’ll be able to travel soon.” Kate leveled a meaningful stare at Derek as she added, “I think Mr. Bishop—Syd—could do with a stiff drink.”
Derek rose from the table at once. “Peter, Nell—run along to Bantry and stay with him. I’ll join you later.” The children exited quietly through the French doors, while Derek moved to put a supporting arm around Syd’s shoulders. “Buck up, old chap. Susannah must be a great deal better or there wouldn’t be all this talk about releasing her from hospital. That’s good news, wouldn’t you say?” As he spoke, Derek steered Syd out of the room and down the hall toward the library.
Kate waited until they were out of sight, then walked shakily to the nearest chair and sat down, covering her face with her hands. Emma rose from her place to join Crowley, who was hovering over Kate, but Kate waved them both away. “Nothing wrong,” she said weakly. “Stupid of me. Just tired.”
Crowley folded his arms and looked down his long nose at Kate. “We’ve been missing our meals, haven’t we, Miss Kate. We’ve been staying up until all hours.” He clucked his tongue and stalked from the room in high dudgeon before Kate could say a word.
Emma gestured to the bowl of peaches, the silver coffee service. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“Crowley will see to it.” Kate brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead and reached for a napkin.
“He’s right, you know.” Emma pulled a chair closer to Kate’s and sat down. “You do look as though you’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”
Kate leaned toward Emma, weaving slightly, punch-drunk with exhaustion. “Television, radio, newspapers, magazines—it takes some candle-burning to keep the lot of them away from the hall.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Bantry told me about the trouble Grayson had a few years ago. I suppose you’ve made a special study of trespassing laws?”
Kate responded with a short, humorless laugh. “Why bother when we’ve had so much practical experience?”
Emma looked at her uncertainly. “But Bantry told me you were a lawyer—a solicitor.”
“Is that what Bantry told you?” Kate raised a hand to her cheek and chuckled softly. “The old dear must be protecting my reputation.” Kate leaned back in her chair and sighed. “If I were as old as Crowley, or a man, it wouldn’t pose such a problem, but a young woman sitting at the foot of Grayson’s table without benefit of clergy ... Can’t blame Bantry, really. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here, too.”
“Grayson seems to depend on you,” Emma said.
“True,” Kate agreed. “Especially now. It’s a real mess this time.”
“But you don’t act as his solicitor?”
Kate sighed. “I’m just the girl from Penford Harbor, Grayson’s childhood chum. Good old Kate, that’s me.” She closed her eyes. “Sorry, Emma. Good old Kate is feeling older than usual today.”
“Don’t worry—I know just how you feel.” Emma raised a hand to straighten her glasses. “But if you’re dissatisfied with the ... the situation, why do you stay?”
Kate’s eyes opened and she turned her head to stare at Emma for a moment before replying firmly, “Penford Hall is my home, too.”
The two women sat in silence until Crowley returned, bearing a large bowl on a silver tray. The scent of chicken soup wafted across the room, reminding Emma of Herbert Munting and his multilevel henhouse in the village.
“Miss Kate,” Crowley declared imperiously, “Madama has prepared this especially for you. You are not to leave the table until you’ve finished every drop.” He placed the bowl before Kate and remained standing over her, as though he intended to keep track of each spoonful. “We wouldn’t want your mother to see you like this, now, would we, Miss Kate?”
The wistful expression on Kate’s face gave way to one of warm affection. She reached up and punched Crowley lightly on the arm. “Humbug,” she said fondly. “Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve threatened to turn me in to Mother?” She faced Emma. “He used to do it all the time when I was a little girl. Had me and Grayson trembling in our wellies till it dawned on us that he’d never really rat us out.”
Unmoved, Crowley pointed sternly to the bowl. “The bouillon is cooling rapidly, Miss Kate.”
“Will we see you at supper?” Emma asked.
“ ’Fraid not. I only came back to make sure Syd got here in one piece. It’s all been a bit much for him. Gash will drive me back to Plymouth this evening, and I’ll stay there with Grayson to arrange for Susannah’s return. Dr. Singh thinks we should be able to bring her back in three or four days.”
Crowley opened the hall door. “I beg your pardon most sincerely, Miss Porter, but Miss Kate really must eat, then get some rest.”
Kate smiled wryly and picked up her spoon. “If you’ll excuse me, Emma, the warder here prohibits talk during mealtimes.”
Good old Kate is growing restless, Emma thought as she headed for the library. Still, it was unlikely that she’d ever leave Penford Hall. She seemed to love the place as much as Grayson, and the staff treated her with a special tenderness. To Bantry, Kate was the pride of Penford Harbor, and she was clearly the apple of Crowley’s eye.
Slowing her pace, Emma thought back to her conversation with Bantry early that morning. She’d found him in the kitchen garden, watering the vines on the birdcage arbor. When she’d asked if he knew what had happened to the oilcloth, he’d led her to a side room that served as his potting shed. It had been roofed over with tightly joined wooden boards and fitted out with a workbench, shelves, cupboards, a pegboard with hooks, and a standing pipe that supplied water from the hall.