Page 43 of Jonathon, After All

“Your tea will get cold, ma’am,” Tilly said, her eyes never leaving her work.

There was a pouty huff from Muriel. “Where could he have gone? I know in my bones that he’s alright, but I miss him, Tilly,” she complained and she might as well have yanked on Jonathon’s earlobe, it smarted and he regretted upsetting her. “How could I have missed it? Jonathan and Leopold!” She let out an indignant humph, shaking her head. “But I would have told Jonathon to watch out for that Sabine, if I had known. That woman was a shark! And she would have pulled out all the stops to separate them and neutralize any threat to the Margrave,” she said with a click of her teeth, earning a knowing hum from Tilly.

“Sounds like our boy needed a shark of his own.”

“He was certainly swimming in deep, dangerous waters, poor sweet child,” Muriel remarked with a sad sigh. “Von Hessen should have protected Jonathon. He might not have been raised in society, but Leopold was not as naive as Jonathon and he had far more power, being nearly a margrave. I would have protected him if I had known, and the very first thing I would have done was tell that Sabine to back off and keep out of it. We could have set Jonathon up in a darling little place in Vienna and covered for him while he studied and waited for von Hessen.”

“No point in getting worked up about it now. The Margrave is taking care of that Sabine and he’ll make things right with Jonathon. I can’t help but feel sorry for the man, though. Calling the wrong number and writing to the wrong address for all those years… And she had him convinced it was best for Jonathon,” she added, causing Muriel to scoff.

“Let me tell you something about Leopold von Hessen,” she began as she set down her teacup and moved to the edge of her seat. “A man so noble, it’s made him stupid. He was so obsessed with saving the planet and keeping Austria in the Middle Ages, he allowed that serpent of an assistant to keep him in the dark. He’d rather live like a Benedictine monk and look at trees than answer his own emails and where has that gotten him?” she said with a disgusted snort. “He thinks he’s a rebel because he doesn’t enjoy balls or fly in First Class, but he’s nearly a carbon copy of his grandfather.”

That earned a surprised gasp from Tilly and Jonathon bit down on his lips, stunned as well.

“I would have thought he despised the old Margrave,” Tilly said and Jonathon nodded from his hiding place behind the grate.

Muriel snickered and hummed knowingly. “I’m certain he does and I’d wager they’d never met. But Leopold is just as hard and commanding as his grandfather and most of the margraves before him. Except for Maximilian, of course. He was clearly unsuited to the role, but the line ran true with Leopold. He’s just as unyielding and serious, but he doesn’t have their coldness and cruelty. He’s far more… familial and protective of his siblings, and I’ve heard they’re a far more affectionate bunch. They get that from their mother’s side, obviously. The Italians are a tactile and emotional people, unlike the Austrians, in my experience.”

“We don’t find it necessary to announce our feelings or speak with our hands,” Tilly said with a shrug. She was actually German, but often stood up for her Austrian cousins.

“Feelings are so bothersome,” Muriel said wearily. “I’d prefer that people kept them to themselves nine times out of ten, but I wish I had seen that our Jonathon had feelings for the Margrave. All of this could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so distracted with that butler…”

Jonathon’s mouth flopped open, he had almost forgotten about that whole business with Herr Weber. But the silent gasp had caused him to suck up some dust and Jonathon covered his nose when it tickled and he sneezed. He managed to muffle it, but Calista’s head popped up and she looked directly at him.

“I knew that something was off with that butler,” Muriel continued, unaware as Calista stood and stretched her long legs before crossing the room and sniffing the floor around the vent.

“Go lay down, girl,” Jonathon mouthed and she let out a keening whimper as her snout pushed against the grate. Jonathon pressed his hand against it. “Shhh!” He thought she might calm down when she smelled him but she became agitated and scratched at the carpet next to the vent and started pacing and whimpering.

“What is it, Calista?” Muriel asked her, causing the dog to let out a loud yip! as her tail pom-pom flicked back and forth.

“It’s probably a rat,” Tilly said as she jumped to her feet. “I’ll call Mr. Bradford and tell him to send someone.”

That was Jonathon’s cue to make his escape so he pushed himself backwards through the vent, smiling as he remembered Muriel’s investigation into Schönbühel’s butler. He had been half-convinced that she would cause an international incident, but Jonathon hadn’t done very much to discourage her efforts. At the time, he thought it was a good thing that she was distracted and employed elsewhere, too busy to notice and interfere with him and Leo.

Now, Jonathon regretted that he hadn’t confided in Muriel, instead of worrying over her correspondence with Herr Weber’s past employers.

“I’ve heard back from Kent,” Muriel had informed Jonathon on one of their walks in the garden at Schönbühel.

“Kent?” he had responded, mystified by the sudden segue. They were discussing their latest reads and sharing book reports when she curled her arm around his and gave it a conspiratorial yank.

“I told you I’d be looking into the ‘butler’s’ references.”

“Oh, God.” Jonathon tripped to a halt. “You meant the Duke of,” he realized and she made an impatient sound as she towed him along.

“Keep your voice down or he’ll hear us.”

“But he’s all the way in Kent, I’d imagine,” Jonathon replied, making her splutter at him.

“Not the duke, you ninny! Herr Weber, the so-called butler,” she whispered and Jonathon frowned back at the house.

“I doubt he could hear us either,” he murmured but Muriel just hissed and dragged him further away from the back terrace.

“There’s no telling where he may be lurking,” she whispered.

“I’d guess the house since that is where a butler usually lurks,” Jonathon said sarcastically, rubbing his chin and squinting at her. “Not that I’d say he was lurking… He appeared to be peeling potatoes for the cook when I passed by the kitchen an hour ago, the scoundrel,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Kent has never heard of a Herr or a Mister Weber,” Muriel said, tilting her nose back. “He’s going to look into the rest of those references and get back to me.”

“Dear Lord, what have you done?” Jonathon said and opened his mouth to warn her, then remembered that Muriel was far less trouble for him when she was entertained. And a little “nothing” scandal involving an imaginative elderly woman might be a good cover and distract the rest of the castle’s staff.

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