Page 57 of The Tart's Final Noel
“I suspect the gentlemen will need to be carried to their beds by the servants who are currently enjoying their own repast,” Brydie said.“How long does it take to sleep off drink?”
“They’ll be abed until noon,” the tutor surmised.“It’s the wee hours of dawn when we must be wary of intruders from among the servants.We should get our sleep while we can.”
After verifying the children slept, Brydie returned to the guest hall below just as Minerva approached.
“They’re all fine,” Brydie told her.“The door is guarded by a wire, a wolfhound, and bombs, for all I know.Mr.Birdwhistle believes they won’t be invaded until the early hours, if at all.I learned nothing tonight except I don’t like idle gentlemen.You?”
“I learned Lord Chatham has an incompetent valet with a long nose who might have been the intruder.The kitchen is poorly lighted and crowded, but it’s possible that he had slight side whiskers.I’d love to set a guard at this door but who would we trust?”
“I don’t know if we can even trust Mr.Birdwhistle.”After this evening, Brydie wasn’t prepared to trust anyone.
Minerva made an inelegant noise.“I’m quite certain he has no interest in poisoning children for money or fame.Whether we can trust his feather-headed idiocy is another matter.”
Brydie raised her eyebrows at her friend’s scorn for the friendly tutor, but she did not question.Minerva kept secrets.Perhaps Mr.Birdwhistle had worked for the duke at some point.
“Paul will be looking for me, so if there is nothing else to be done, I’ll be off.”Minerva stopped to add, “Oh, I also learned that our three visiting bachelors have no funds of their own and regularly sponge off friends when they can’t pay their landlords.Apparently, Chatham has only recently come into his title after the death of an elderly uncle.”
“Given his sartorial splendor, as Clare calls it, I’d say the title came accompanied with a degree of funds.”Brydie tried to work out how that might matter but couldn’t.
“A title buys him larger credit limits with the shopkeepers.Since he’s still sponging, I assume any inherited wealth is negligible.”
New clothes could be purchased with a title?Interesting.Brydie followed Minerva down the hall until Wolfie began howling and an unearthly din rattled the attic.
Thirty
Verity
Having just takeneveryone’s advice to go to bed, Verity had removed her wrapper when the unholy clatter startled Wolfie into howling.
Her first instinct was to shove the bed across the door as she’d planned, but anyone of size could shove that meager cot.The bed’s placement had only ever been meant to wake her up if someone tried.
Hastily donning her robe, she lit her lamp again.She found Rafe’s knife on the trunk she used as table, and clutching the key given to her earlier, slipped into the hall.She fastened the lock and placed the key into the pocket of her robe.
Mr.Birdwhistle popped out of his door, tugging on a rather rich-looking velvet banyan while trying to hold his lamp.Obedient Wolfie remained where placed, howling, probably in frustration.
The jangling had halted.No one lurked in the corridor.Verity whistled, calling the dog to her.“Guard, Wolf,” she ordered, posting the animal between the two bedrooms.
At Rafe’s shout, she hurried toward the storage area, heart thumping.And then she remembered—she was leaving the children protected by adog.
Torn, she stopped abruptly.Nearly crashing into her, Mr.Birdwhistle staggered and grabbed a wall to prevent collision.Alarmed at a new rattle of bells, she glanced behind them.Relief flooded her as Brydie and Minerva raced down the hall in their evening attire.Mr.Birdwhistle lingered, as well, torn between his charges and whatever was happening deeper in the enormous storage area.
“Give us the knife,” Brydie demanded, holding out her hand.“We’ll stand guard.”
Minerva seized the stick the tutor held and gestured with it.“Find Rafe.We won’t let anyone near the children without raising the dead.”
“You’ll have more difficulty keeping the boys in,” Birdwhistle said dryly, but he stood guard at the attic entrance with Verity.“They’re armed and creative.”
Verity didn’t linger for pleasantries while hearing Rafe’s shouts and what sounded like an almighty battle.In her slippers, she opened the door into the storage attics.She held up her hand to the tutor and pointed at the marble bust in the rocking chair on top of the three-legged washstand.One jostle and they’d be beaned.
He lifted his lamp high and she held hers low so they could find all the traps the boys had set.She triggered one by pushing aside what appeared to be a drapery with her foot.She should have known better.She jumped backwards as a broken dress form toppled in their path.
The noise at the far end disintegrated into shouting and cursing with the occasional thud and crash.Rafe sounded more angry than hurt but that meant little.
Swallowing huge lumps of fear, she stuck to the torturous path the boys had carved through centuries of detritus.Most of the good furniture had been removed.The rest of this jumble probably ought to be tossed.Except, for all anyone knew, the eccentric earl had hidden more treasure maps in three centuries of rubbish.An excess of caution prevented wholesale burning.
Opening a door into a second attic that might once have been servants’ quarters, Mr.Birdwhistle caught an oar swinging at their heads.Their lamps cast shadows on the interior and it took a moment to make out figures.
“Thank goodness,” Rafe said in disgust.“I thought I’d kill myself trying to drag this scoundrel into the light.He kicked my lamp and I had to stomp out flames.We need someone to clean up the oil.”
