“Why not?” said Derek, loosening his tie.
The mechanical masterpiece they created that evening would have made Rube Goldberg proud. After a tentative start, Peter hunkered down beside Emma and Derek on the rug, his tongue between his teeth and his tie askew, totally absorbed. The three of them carried on long after Crowley had cleared the table, while Queen Eleanor sat sidesaddle on the rocking horse, holding Bertie in her arms, humming softly to herself, and smiling down on them.
14
Syd Bishop came back from Plymouth the following day, ostensibly to supervise the installation of a hospital bed and other medical equipment. In fact, it was Crowley who directed the workmen, and Mattie who took charge of Susannah’s things, while the paunchy, balding agent sat in the library, a shaken man.
“She don’t know me,” he’d said, when Kate Cole had guided him into the dining room, where Emma, Derek, Peter, and Nell were just finishing a leisurely lunch. The children had greeted Mr. Bishop politely while Emma and Derek exchanged troubled glances. The man did not look well.
Kate looked even worse. “Susannah has regained consciousness,” she told them. Her voice was rough-edged, her eyes were bruised with fatigue, and her dark hair was tangled. “She seems to have lost her memory”—Syd groaned and Kate tightened her hold on his arm—“but it may be only a temporary condition. Dr. Singh hopes she’ll be able to travel soon.” Kate leveled a meaningful stare at Derek as she added, “I think Mr. Bishop—Syd—could do with a stiff drink.”
Derek rose from the table at once. “Peter, Nell—run along to Bantry and stay with him. I’ll join you later.” The children exited quietly through the French doors, while Derek moved to put a supporting arm around Syd’s shoulders. “Buck up, old chap. Susannah must be a great deal better or there wouldn’t be all this talk about releasing her from hospital. That’s good news, wouldn’t you say?” As he spoke, Derek steered Syd out of the room and down the hall toward the library.
Kate waited until they were out of sight, then walked shakily to the nearest chair and sat down, covering her face with her hands. Emma rose from her place to join Crowley, who was hovering over Kate, but Kate waved them both away. “Nothing wrong,” she said weakly. “Stupid of me. Just tired.”
Crowley folded his arms and looked down his long nose at Kate. “We’ve been missing our meals, haven’t we, Miss Kate. We’ve been staying up until all hours.” He clucked his tongue and stalked from the room in high dudgeon before Kate could say a word.
Emma gestured to the bowl of peaches, the silver coffee service. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“Crowley will see to it.” Kate brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead and reached for a napkin.
“He’s right, you know.” Emma pulled a chair closer to Kate’s and sat down. “You do look as though you’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”
Kate leaned toward Emma, weaving slightly, punch-drunk with exhaustion. “Television, radio, newspapers, magazines—it takes some candle-burning to keep the lot of them away from the hall.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Bantry told me about the trouble Grayson had a few years ago. I suppose you’ve made a special study of trespassing laws?”
Kate responded with a short, humorless laugh. “Why bother when we’ve had so much practical experience?”
Emma looked at her uncertainly. “But Bantry told me you were a lawyer—a solicitor.”
“Is that what Bantry told you?” Kate raised a hand to her cheek and chuckled softly. “The old dear must be protecting my reputation.” Kate leaned back in her chair and sighed. “If I were as old as Crowley, or a man, it wouldn’t pose such a problem, but a young woman sitting at the foot of Grayson’s table without benefit of clergy ... Can’t blame Bantry, really. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here, too.”
“Grayson seems to depend on you,” Emma said.
“True,” Kate agreed. “Especially now. It’s a real mess this time.”
“But you don’t act as his solicitor?”
Kate sighed. “I’m just the girl from Penford Harbor, Grayson’s childhood chum. Good old Kate, that’s me.” She closed her eyes. “Sorry, Emma. Good old Kate is feeling older than usual today.”
“Don’t worry—I know just how you feel.” Emma raised a hand to straighten her glasses. “But if you’re dissatisfied with the ... the situation, why do you stay?”
Kate’s eyes opened and she turned her head to stare at Emma for a moment before replying firmly, “Penford Hall is my home, too.”