How could she have when no one else had guessed its presence in the four years he had resided at Fosterly?
“She sought a number of things apparently,” Michael said. “First and foremost was something called an eklectical…” He frowned. “Nay, an electrical outlet.”
An electrical outlet? What was that?
“From what I understand, ’tis something small that is commonly found on walls in her homeland,” his friend said with furrowed brow.
Well, if ’twas something from her homeland, mayhap her desire to find it was not so odd. Although the way she went about looking for it was. She could have simply asked. “What purpose does it serve?”
“I know not.”
Robert would have to ask her later. “Very well. What else did she seek?”
“A light switch.”
Robert’s eyebrows flew up. “She wished to beat someone?” Who? And why?
He scowled. Had someone insulted her? Threatened her? Harmed her in some way?
Stephen must have seen the thunderclouds gathering in Robert’s expression because he quickly tried to head off the storm. “’Tis what we thought as well until she told us that the light switch she sought was not a rod used for whipping, but rather an object similar to the electrical outlet.”
Michael nodded. “She would not take our word that Fosterly boasted none of those.”
Stephen frowned. “’Twas insulting, really, her refusal to believe us.”
Indeed it was an insult, but Robert had no interest in pacifying his friends at the moment. “Continue, Michael.”
“So intent was she upon finding these outlets and switches that she ordered a ladder to be brought in, climbed to the top of it, and felt those parts of the wall that were out of reach. By the time she gave up, she was almost as disheveled as when we found her.”
The unknown objects must be of great important to her. “A light switch and an e-lec-trical outlet,” Robert murmured, struggling to pronounce the last. In all of his travels, he had heard no mention of such things.
“And something called a micro wave oven. She seemed to think every kitchen should have one, and was very disappointed that Fosterly’s does not.”
Robert knew not what that was either, but vowed to acquire one if ’twould please Beth. Alyssa could help him. She knew about kitchens. He had been remiss in not requesting her assistance earlier.
Michael propped his hands on his hips and frowned. “What was the other thing she sought, Stephen? The one that sounded like plumage?”
“Plumming,” Adam supplied.
“Aye!” Michael agreed. “Indoor plumming. Something else she thought no castle should be without.”
Hmmm. He would have to ask Alyssa about that one, too. No sense in questioning Dillon. His brother was as oblivious to the inner workings of a household as Robert.
Wondering what to make of Beth’s strange behavior, why she had felt the desperate need to run her hands across the walls when she could plainly see that what she sought was not there, Robert finally noticed his friends’ unkempt appearance. All three bore dusty, mussed hair, smudges on their faces and hands, and stains on their surcoats.
“I know why Lady Bethany may be disheveled, but what is your excuse?”
Again the three shared a look.
Much to his surprise, Adam broke the silence. “I saw her cross herself,” he uttered in his gravelly voice, a scowl darkening his features.
“Lady Bethany?” If she had not crossed herself whilst covered in blood and faced with four armed warriors on horseback, he found it difficult to believe that aught she found in the kitchen would make her do so.
Then again…
“Nay, a kitchen maid,” Michael corrected. “Lady Bethany’s unusual garb and peculiar behavior began to make some of the servants uneasy as she moved from room to room.”
“I thought her search was restricted to the kitchen,” Robert said.
Stephen shook his head. “I vow she searched every room in the castle. Except for the solar, that is. We would not allow her to search in there.”
Michael grimaced. “She even searched the garderobes. She mentioned the plumage—”
“Plumming.”
“—again there. And I thought she would weep upon discovering the castle had it not.”
Robert frowned. “You have not yet said how you all came to be so soiled.”
Michael nodded to Adam. “’Twas his idea.”
Adam flushed a deep red under Robert’s scrutiny. “I could not let them all think her mad or bewitched, could I?” he demanded belligerently. “Leave her to face the same condemnation and fearful glances Lady Alyssa was subjected to on those first few visits?”
And continued to face on occasion.
What exactly had Adam done?