Harry opened a small cedar box situated at the far edge of his desk and extracted a thin brown cigar. He waved his hand toward the box in invitation as he lit the cheroot, settling back with the air of one who has a riveting tale to tell. “Sir William took his own life as soon as I discovered his perfidy. The anarchists were caught, and the leaders hung. I was jailed for treason because Sir William had set me up as a scapegoat, manufacturing a convincing case against me with the help of the anarchists. He knew I was getting too close to the truth, you see, and it had come to his ears that the PM was aware that there was someone high up in the Home Office who was betraying the government, so Stanford decided I would be offered up as a sacrifice.”
“Fascinating,” Temple said, carefully tapping his ash into the receptacle provided. “I take it the letter you received today has some bearing on that incident?”
“Exactly.” Harry dropped his feet to the ground and leaned forward to frown at the letter. “This is from the Lord Briceland, the new head of the HO. He says some information has come to light recently to hint that Stanford might not have been working alone, and he’d like me to go over my documents and papers with an eye to finding proof of a second person’s involvement.”
“That sounds as if it will involve quite a bit of work.”
“It will.” Harry sighed, then picked up his pen. “I’ll want you to write to Crabtoes and have him dig out my records at Rosehill. Have him send them to me here, as fast as possible. Then I’ll need you to help me sort through the papers I have here. I don’t have much that is pertinent to that time, but I recall seeing a box of my notes somewhere when we moved. Oh, and don’t forget to send in that announcement to the Times.”
Temple put out his cigar, carried it over to the fireplace, and disposed of both ashes and cigar, wiping out the glass bowl with his handkerchief before returning it to Harry’s desk. “Your marriage announcement?”
“Yes. It will save me from having to write to all my friends, and Plum will probably want her friends and family to know about it. Blast! Just when I wanted to spend some time reveling in my wife’s charms, I must spend my days pouring over fifteen-year-old notes…”
“I should very much like to know exactly how the bull found itself in the house. Would one of you like to tell me?”
Erk, erk, chirruped the pheasant. Plum gave it a look to let it know she didn’t appreciate its opinion, and honed her look to a glare. She sent it down the line of servants and children who stood before her.
“Well? Doesn’t someone have something to say?”
The ten pairs of eyes regarding her displayed nothing but innocence, innocence so great, it would make the cherubim themselves feel in the need of a good purging.
Plum sighed. “Very well, if you wish to be difficult about this. Gertie?”
An older woman with brown hair flecked with gray nodded her head.
“You’re in charge of the children, are you not?”
“Aye…well, I was until ‘is lordship married ye, and now yer in charge o’ the little buggers.”
Plum fought down a feeling of panic at that thought. They were only children, and she had lots of experience with Cordelia’s children over the years — experience playing with them, that is, in situations which she knew full well Cordelia would never allow her to suggest romps that might prove to be unsuitable or dangerous. Now, however, she was in Cordelia’s position, and she felt sadly at a loss as to what she should and shouldn’t do with the children. After a morning’s concerted and uncomfortable thought on the subject, she had decided that she would be their friend, helping them, guiding them, mentoring them without being too strict or having to dole out punishment.
That was, after all, what a father was for.
“Just so. However, you have more experience with them than I do, therefore you must have some idea how a bull was let into the house.”
The woman named George — a misnomer if ever there was one, since a lovelier, more curvaceous woman Plum had never seen, not even her dull gray gown and stained apron could dim her charms — raised her hand. “Through the door?”
Digger snickered. India rolled her eyes and looked bored as only a thirteen-year-old girl can look bored. Plum narrowed her glare onto them both.
“You wouldn’t have something to tell me, would you, Digger?”
“Sure I do, I have lots of things to tell you. Joshua is a friendly sort, kind of like Nash.”
Nash, she knew, was the pheasant. She had made its introduction earlier, when she and Juan rounded up the nursery staff, footmen, and children. “Joshua?”
“Joshua is the bull,” Digger said. “He’s friendly, see? He likes McTavish, so when we came in from hunting for Joshua’s tail—”
“I found a bull tail!” McTavish said happily, holding up a withered black object that looked more like a dehydrated snake than a tail. “Can I have a kitten now? You said I could.”
Plum raised an eyebrow at Digger and tipped her head slightly toward McTavish. Digger shook his head. She sent a silent prayer of gratitude that she would not be called on to admire the replacement bull’s tail, and continued with her morning guidance to the children. “That explains how Joshua might have come into the hall, but how is it that he broke three very expensive looking urns, and put his horns through the door to the necessary?”
Anne and Andrew giggled, realized they were both laughing at the same thing, and changed their giggles to glares.
“The urns weren’t expensive, ma’am,” George said. The other servants nodded. “His lordship wouldn’t put anything expensive in the hall.”
Plum frowned. “He wouldn’t?”
“No, ma’am. He knows, you see.”
“He does.”
“Yes’m. About the children.”
“Ah.” Plum added an extra point or two to her opinion of Harry’s intelligence, and moved on. “About the door—”
“Tavvy was in the necessary,” Digger — evidently spokesman for the children — said. India sat at the end of the blue sofa across from Plum ignoring them all, obviously pretending she was a thousand miles away.
“Nash had to use the pot,” McTavish said, teasing the pheasant with his dried snake cum bull tail.
Plum successfully removed the image from her mind of a pheasant using a chamber pot, and bravely forged onward. “Since we are all friends here, we’ll let this morning’s incident go without further comment.”
Several of the members of staff sighed with relief, and slouched back against the wall. Plum eyed them all. “I realize that I am a new member of the family, but I really must put my foot down about the entertaining of livestock inside the house. Henceforth, all animals that are not pets will remain outside. Animals other than cats and dogs are not allowed to follow you inside. Do you all understand?”
“Yes,” Andrew said, nodding.
“No,” Anne said, shaking her head.
Digger shrugged.
Gertie and George exchanged glances.
Juan threw himself to his knees before Plum, one hand on his chest, the other outstretched toward her. “The Holy Mother pours blessings on your head, Lady Plump. The bull, he causes much mess in the hall that the boys and I must clean. Last week it was peacocks. Before that, pigeons.” He shuddered and sent her a look of sultry invitation from under half-closed eyes, a look so blatant it would have shocked a harem girl.
Plum ignored him. “Thom, dear, do you have my memorandum pad? Thank you. Oh, have you all met my niece, Miss Fraser?”