“And nary a clue,” I said. “What about Coventry? Could she have met this Mr. C there, while she was looking at the bishop’s bird stump, and that’s the event that changed her life forever?”
“It’s possible,” she said. “But that’s another problem. They haven’t said anything about a trip to Coventry. Mrs. Mering’s talked about going to Hampton Court to see Catherine Howard’s ghost, but they’ve never so much as mentioned Coventry, and they didn’t go before I got here. I know because I asked—”
“—the upstairs maid,” I finished.
“Yes. And we know Tossie went there sometime in June. That’s why I’ve been so worried about their coming to Oxford to see Madame Iritosky. I was afraid Princess Arjumand’s disappearance had made them come to Oxford when they should have been going to Coventry, or that Mr. C might have come to Muchings End while Tossie was here and missed meeting her. But if Mr. Dunworthy and T.J. have returned Princess Arjumand, that means the cat’s simply wandered off. And who knows? Mr. C may be the one who finds her and brings her back. Perhaps that’s why they got engaged so suddenly, because she was grateful to him for returning Arjumand.”
“And it isn’t as if you’ve been away from Muchings End long,” I said. “Only a day. If Mr. C did come calling, the maid would no doubt ask him to wait in the parlor till you returned.”
“What do you mean?” she said. She stood up abruptly, her skirts rustling.
“I just assumed,” I said, surprised. “Weren’t the Victorians the ones with parlors? Didn’t their maids ask callers to wait?”
“When did you come through?” she demanded.
“This morning,” I said. “I told you. Bang on target. Ten o’clock, June the seventh, 1888.”
“This is the tenth of June,” she said.
The tenth. “But the newspaper—”
“—must have been an old one. I came through on the night of the seventh. We came to Oxford on the eighth, and we’ve been here three days.”
I said blankly, “Then there must have been—”
“—increased slippage,” she said, “which is an indication that there’s been an incongruity.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “I left rather in a hurry.” I explained about Lady Schrapnell. “Warder might not have finished setting the coordinates. Or she might have made a mistake. She’d done seventeen drops already.”
“Perhaps,” she said doubtfully. “Where did you come through? Folly Bridge? Is that where you met up with Terence?”
“No, the railway station. He was there to meet his tutor’s relatives, but they didn’t arrive.” I explained about his asking me if I were going on the river and about his financial problems. “So I paid the balance on the boat.”
“And if you hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t be here,” she said, looking even more worried. “Could he have gotten the boat if you hadn’t lent the money to him?”
“Not a chance,” I said, thinking about Jabez, and then, at her worried expression, “He said something about trying to borrow money from someone named Mags at the Mitre,” I said. “But he was determined to see Tossie again. I think he would have run the entire way to Iffley if he hadn’t had the money.”
“You’re probably right,” she said. “There’s a great deal of redundancy in the system. If he hadn’t met her here, he might very well have met her at Muchings End. He said yesterday he had been thinking of going downriver. And three days’ slippage isn’t all that much.” She frowned. “Still, though, it seems a lot for a pleasure trip. And it’s more than on the other Victorian drops. I’d better report it to Mr. Dunworthy when I get back to—”
“—certain the spirits will bring us word of Princess Arjumand,” Tossie’s voice said, and she fluttered in with Terence, who had his hat in his hands. “Madame Iritosky is famous for locating lost objects. She told the Duchess of Derby where her lost brooch was and the Duchess gave her a reward of a thousand pounds. Papa said, of course she knew where it was, she’d put it there herself, but Mama,” she said, putting the accent on the last syllable, “knows it was the workings of the spirit world.”
Verity stood up and draped her skirts. “What did the churchwarden say?” she said, and I was amazed at her composure. She looked the serene English maiden again. “Is Iffley Church haunted?”
“No,” Terence said.
“Yes,” Tossie said, looking up at the vaulting. “And I don’t care what he says, cross old bear. They are here now, spirits from another time and place. I can feel their presence.”
“What the churchwarden said was that it wasn’t haunted, but he wished it were,” Terence said, “because ‘hants’ didn’t get mud all over the floor or take down his notices. Or bother the churchwarden when he was having his tea.”
“Tea!” Tossie said. “What a lovely idea! Cousin, go and tell Baine to serve tea.”
“There isn’t time,” Verity said, pulling on her gloves. “We are expected back at Madame Iritosky’s.”
“Oh, but Mr. St. Trewes and Mr. Henry have not seen the mill yet,” Tossie said.
“They shall have to see it after we are gone,” Verity said, and swept out of the church. “We do not want to miss our train to Muchings End.” She stopped at the lychgate. “Mr. St. Trewes, would you be so good as to tell our butler to bring the carriage round?”
“My pleasure,” Terence said, tipping his hat, and started toward the tree where Baine sat reading.
I’d hoped Tossie would go with him so I could talk to Verity, but she stayed by the lychgate, pouting and snapping her parasol open and shut. And what sort of excuse could give us a few moments alone? I could hardly suggest she follow Terence with Verity already concerned about her attraction to him, and she was the type to give orders, not take—
“My parasol,” Verity said. “I must have left it in the church.”
“I’ll help you find it,” I said, and opened the door with alacrity, scattering notices everywhere.
“I’ll return to Oxford and report to Mr. Dunworthy as soon as I get the chance,” she whispered as soon as the door was shut. “Where will you be?”
“I’m not certain,” I said. “On the river somewhere. Terence talked about rowing down to Henley.”
“I’ll try to get word to you,” she said, walking toward the front of the nave. “It may be several days.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep Terence away from Muchings End,” she said. “It’s probably just an infatuation on Tossie’s part, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
I nodded.
“And don’t worry. It’s only three days’ slippage, and Mr. Dunworthy wouldn’t have sent you through if Princess Arjumand hadn’t already been safely returned. I’m certain everything’s fine.” She patted my arm. “You get some sleep. You’re supposed to be recovering from time-lag.”
“I will,” I said.
She retrieved the white parasol from underneath the kneeling rail and started toward the door, and then stopped and smiled. “And if you meet anyone named Chaucer or Churchill, send them along to Muchings—”
“Your carriage, miss,” Baine said, looming in the door.
“Thank you, Baine,” she said coldly and swept past him.
Terence was handing Tossie into the carriage. “I do hope we shall meet again, Mr. St. Trewes,” Tossie said, no longer pouting. “We take the train home this evening to Muchings End. Do you know it? It’s on the river, just below Streatley.”
Terence took off his boater and held it over his heart. “ ‘Till then, good-bye, fair one, adieu!’ ”
The carriage lurched forward. “Baine!” Tossie protested.
“I beg your pardon, miss,” Baine said and clucked the reins.
“Goodbye,” Tossie called back to us, waving a handkerchief and everything else on her person. “Goodbye, Mr. St. Trewes!” The landau rolled away.
Terence watched it till it was out of sight.
“We’d better go,” I said. “Professor Peddick will be waiting.”
He sighed, looking longingly after the dust cloud it had left. “Isn’t she wonderful?”