“Why on earth…?”
“We’re on the set of a reality show, remember?” My alarm was only half feigned. “That man you’ve decided to work for has lots of nasty surprises in store for the contestants.” Any one of whom might walk in here at any moment thinking herself safe from prying eyes and ears.
“Again, Ellie, I haven’t made a decision about Georges LeBois. I told him you’d have to be for the idea and my guess was that you wouldn’t want to delay a minute in getting out of here.”
“That was you last night,” I reminded him.
“At first because I felt embarrassed at barging in on strangers, and then,” drawing his eyebrows together as he does when annoyed, “because I didn’t appreciate Lord Belfrey scooping you up in his arms after you fainted and marching you into that living room as though it was his right to do so.”
“A householder assuming that the blame was his, which was the case; it was his suit of armor, along with Mrs. Foot peering menacingly through the banisters, that scared me half to death.”
“I admit he doesn’t seem to be a bad fellow-not after talking to him for a while, although I can’t imagine how any man could decide on the course he’s taking. I’d let the ancestral house rot before selecting a bride from a group of total strangers.”
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter to him whom he marries if his heart is elsewhere, so long as it is someone he believes he can grow to like and respect. And it’s not as though his wife wouldn’t be getting what she wanted in return, whether it’s the title, the house, or the grounds. Or that’s how it should be-a practical arrangement between two people with their eyes open.”
“Including Mrs. Malloy, Ellie?”
“She is my worry,” I replied over Thumper’s snores. “There’ll be no squashing her romantic dreams. I’ll need to be around to help her to pick up the pieces if she isn’t the chosen bride.”
“And if she is?” Ben reached across the furry divider to hold my hand.
“I’ll be happy for her.”
“You’re sure?”
“Well, of course I’ll miss having her around at Merlin’s Court and I wouldn’t want to take on any sleuthing without her should the opportunity arise. The children will take her absence hard, but we’ll all have to handle the adjustment. However, any of that is at least a week ahead. Meanwhile, I’d be grateful if you’d stay on and prepare meals for Georges. Maybe he’ll turn into someone nice once he’s back to dining in style. It’s not only Mrs. Malloy, although naturally she is primary, that I’d like to keep an eye on. There’s Livonia to be saved from bolting back to the awful Harold, like Whitey scurrying into that rat hole.”
“Don’t tell me he escaped! I left the creature caged in a bolted room.”
“Obviously someone let him out. My guess is Mr. Plunket or Boris; either of those two men would do anything for Mrs. Foot. It really is sad, Ben, all three of them were homeless at some point before they ended up here. I wish I didn’t find them all so spooky. Forced to a choice, I’d rather spend half an hour with Georges than five minutes with one of them, which makes me a despicably unkind person. By the way, has he promised to pay you handsomely for your services?”
“Payment wasn’t mentioned.”
“Good.” I squeezed his hand. “I would hate to be married to a man who can be bought by trifles. But what about the children? Will your parents mind staying on with them for another week?”
“They’ll be knocked silly with delight. I phoned them last night to explain the delay and will give them another call, if you’re sure about this.”
“It works for both of us.”
“You won’t be bored hovering on the sidelines in the midst of all the activity?”
“I’ll hole up here with a book from the local library. But first,” it was surprisingly hard to say, “I have to try to find Thumper’s owner and achieve a reunion.”
Sensing my mood, Ben again stroked the black satin head. “Georges did promise to list me among the credits for Here Comes the Bride.”
“Did you get that in writing?”
“There’ll be a typed contract complete with witnessed signatures.”
“Get it before you boil him an egg.”
“Ellie, I think the guy’s to be trusted.”
“Oh, ye of too much faith!” I tapped him on the knuckles. “What about the phony name and designating himself a Monsieur?”
“All right! He’s from Tottenham, a dozen or so streets away from where I grew up. So he reinvented himself!”
“Hmm!” Hadn’t I suspected as much?
“That doesn’t necessarily make him a complete fraud.”
“No,” I agreed, while thinking how awful it would be for Lord Belfrey and the contestants if Here Comes the Bride turned out to be a complete sham. My elastic mind painted the scenario: Georges taking the opportunity to hole up at Mucklesfeld because the law was after him for a train robbery, multiple murders, or selling secrets to the Russians in return for a land deal in Siberia. I smiled at Ben, telling him that he had lucked into a marvelous opportunity. “Such great exposure! Your name rolling down television screens all over the country. Think of the increase in book sales for you, and the numbers that will come flocking to eat at Abigail’s! How wonderfully providential that the fog brought us to Mucklesfeld on the eve of Here Comes the Bride. Speaking of which, where is Mrs. Malloy?”
The door opened, Thumper raised a sleepy head, and in she stalked, resplendent in purple taffeta and clearly in a bit of a mood.
“Well, I must say, Mrs. H, it’s good of you to show up at last, although I’d have thought you’d have come along to my room as is two doors down and helped me pick my ensemble instead of sitting canoodling.”
Getting to his feet, Ben said he would go downstairs and see if the provisions had arrived from Smithers, Smithers & Smithers, smiled at me, patted Mrs. Malloy on the shoulder, and went out of the room.
“We were not canoodling,” I said mildly. “We were discussing our plans for staying on at Mucklesfeld. That’s right,” in response to elevated painted brows, “Ben is going to be Monsieur LeBois’s personal chef for the duration and I’ll be your shoulder to lean on if you run into trouble with any of the other contestants.”
“Well, I must say,” she did a good job of not looking overly relieved, “it won’t be bad having you around. Although, of course, I don’t suppose as we’ll see much of each other what with a busy filming schedule. And don’t go expecting me to share anything personal that goes on between me and his lordship.”
“Certainly not.” I got off the bed. “You can keep your canoodling moments to yourself. Now let me make sure you’re up to snuff.” I turned her around-a tottery business given her four-inch heels. “Good, no wrinkles.”
“I should think not! Smooth as a baby’s bottom, my face!”
“I was talking about the frock.”
“Oh! Well, of course. So you think I’ll do?” She crackled with nerves, something so unlike her that I had to fight down the urge to tell her to give up on this silly business. “Is me hair all right, Mrs. H? Not too much jewelry?”
The fake ruby necklace and three diamanté brooches were perhaps a bit much. “Perfect! You’re a credit to me and the members of the Chitterton Fells Charwomen’s Association.”
“That reminds me!” She stuck a hand in her skirt pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “I daresay you’ll like to go into the village when things start rolling and you get to feeling in the way of the cameras and whatnot. Meaning there’s no reason you can’t take this note down to Dr. Rowley’s house; he gave me the address and it’s written down. Right here,” tapping with a sparkly flamingo-pink nail. “And what I want you to do, Mrs. H, is…”
“Dr. Rowley is here-or he was when I came upstairs.”