Cuckoo Children

Chapter Thirteen

The news was unexpected, and though Alice was somewhat relieved to hear that she was no longer the only person who had seen the Metfield Ghost, it was disquieting too. The apparition had upset her father enough to make him send Mr. Blake outside to catch it. Alice did not know her father very well, but she did know that trifles did not usually upset him.

"He saw it too?" she asked, not quite believing what she had heard. "Was he able to ... was he able to discern something that might help us find out who is playing these nasty tricks on us?"

Mr. Blake shook his head. "No, he was not. He saw the shadow in the garden and sent me off to block his way on this side of the house while he went out of the French windows in the library in pursuit of the man."

Alice blenched. "I hope he was not hurt," she said. "Whoever that ghost is he seems a desperate character to me."

"I do not think his lordship caught him," Mr. Blake said. "Ten to one he will be seriously annoyed with me for not being where I should have been and thereby letting the fellow escape."

"He will not when you tell him you had to keep me from going after the man," Alice said, smiling weakly. "Or is my father so unreasonable that the argument will not impress him?"

"I have no doubt that it would," Mr. Blake said. "But I prefer not telling him, Lady Alice. I see no point in defending myself by merely bringing reproach on others' heads. Never mind me. I have been acquainted with your father for years, and I know how to deal with him. There is no need to be anxious."

"I will try not to be," Alice said sweetly. "But it seems rather difficult, does it not? Someone is trying to kill my brother and I am not to be anxious. Quite a challenge, I think."

"Lady Alice, no one..."

"Enough, sir," Alice said angrily. Why did her father and Mr. Blake think she could not handle the truth? "Keep your untruths for moments when it is not quite so easy for me to detect them, and stop treating me like a child."

For a moment, Mr. Blake looked startled, but he recovered his poise almost instantly. Alice wondered whether he was trying to think of a suitable retort, though if he did he kept it to himself. Nor did he say anything to defend himself, but merely acknowledged her hit with a nod and opened the drawing-room door for her to enter. He did not follow her into the room but left. Alice supposed he was going to join her father in the library again, to see whether he had found out anything about the Metfield Ghost's identity or had been injured in the attempt.

She felt almost sorry for accusing him of lying to her. It had been unkind of her to do so. He had tried to keep the truth from her, yet she was sure this was only because he did not want her to be alarmed. But she was alarmed nevertheless, and her father and Mr. Blake's reluctance to be open with her did nothing to reassure her, on the contrary, it set her teeth on edge. There was something they wished to conceal -- and that was by no means good news, considering the circumstances. She wished they would be honest with her -- she could deal with bad news, she was accustomed to that, but she hated uncertainty.

In the drawing room Alice found her aunt Daventry sitting with Mrs. Trevor. Having spent the entire afternoon at the Dower House, her uncle and aunt had had no idea of what had happened to Laurent during his riding lesson, and Mrs. Daventry was listening to Mrs. Trevor's account of his accident with an expression of serious concern. Cousin Reggie was sitting with them as well, greatly amused at what Mrs. Trevor told them. He was laughing heartily at the description of how Laurent's horse had thrown him off, but broke off guiltily when he saw Alice enter the room.

Mrs. Trevor gave Alice a questioning look, but did not interrupt her account to ask her what she had been about. Alice sat down next to Mrs. Trevor, took a handkerchief from her workbox and started to embroider it. She hoped her hands would not tremble too noticeably -- Mrs. Daventry was quick in the uptake, and would immediately notice if something was wrong. Alice had not been in England long, but she had realised one thing -- a lady did not betray any emotions to her guests if she could help it. Since her father's family was convinced that she was as vulgar a creature as her mother had been in their opinion, it was for her to make a push to convince them of the opposite, even if the effort killed her.

"I do hope my nephew is not badly hurt," Mrs. Daventry said when Mrs. Trevor finished her account.

"He does not appear to be," Mrs. Trevor said calmly.

"Why should he be?" Reggie asked, with real astonishment in his tone of voice. "Everyone takes a toss now and then, and no harm ever comes of it!"

Alice wished she could agree with this notion of her cousin's. He had not witnessed her brother's accident though, and it was quite likely he had never seen a serious accident.

"Reginald," Mrs. Daventry said sharply. "I do not remember asking you for your opinion."

Cousin Reggie murmured an apology but, when his mother turned away from him, made a face at her. He then grinned at Alice, who had watched the scene and could not help smiling. She liked her cousin. Too bad they hardly ever got to talk to each other. She did wonder, however, why her aunt and uncle did not allow him to associate with them. Were they afraid he'd tell them things they were not supposed to know? Or were they merely afraid that his new cousins would be a bad influence on him?

"No limbs are broken, I trust," Mrs. Daventry continued.

"None, ma'am," Alice said, remembering her duty as a hostess. She supposed she had to take part in the conversation. "My brother walked back to the house without difficulty."

"Thank heavens," Mrs. Daventry replied impassively.

"Mr. Drummond is giving him a look-over at the moment but does not think there are any injuries of an alarming nature," Alice continued.

"How useful it is to have a doctor visiting just as an accident happens," Mrs. Daventry said.

"Oh yes, a most fortunate coincidence," Alice said. It was fascinating how calm one could sound while feeling so upset. She half suspected her father had anticipated the accident and had invited Mr. Drummond to join them in Metfield Hall to be prepared. Her aunt shared the suspicion, it seemed. But if her father had known that there would be an attempt to murder Laurent, why had he not removed them from this place at once? He did not wish Laurent to die, did he?

"I believe Mr. Drummond came here to speak about hospital business with my father," she said, hoping desperately that her voice sounded unperturbed. It would not do for her aunt to find out the truth about Laurent's "accidents". Either she had nothing to do with them -- in which case she would be horrified discover what was going on under her brother-in-law's roof -- or she was taking part in the plot, in which case Alice preferred not to let on that she had realised there was a plot in existence. One had to admit though that Mrs. Daventry looked rather harmless. She might be an insufferable person, but that did not turn one into a murderess. On the other hand, if every murderer looked like one, their prospective victims would be forewarned and murder would not happen.

Mr. Drummond and Lord Metfield chose that moment to join the party in the drawing-room. Mrs. Daventry immediately turned to the doctor and inquired after her nephew. Mr. Drummond's report was reassuring. Laurent had suffered no injuries worth mentioning, and was determined to continue his riding lessons the next day.

"Did you find my mother and sister in good health, ma'am?" Lord Metfield asked his sister-in-law. It was amazing how well he had himself in hand, Alice thought. Nothing in his demeanour betrayed any uneasiness. He was playing the role of courteous host, and he was playing it well. Alice only hoped he was as good at playing the role of protective father.

"Mama is in tolerably good health," Mrs. Daventry said. "She said she was able to sleep several hours last night, without her usual bouts of pain, and in consequence she was feeling well enough to sit up all afternoon. Her physician has prescribed a new medicine and her condition has improved greatly since she started taking it."

"I am glad to hear my mother is feeling better," Lord Metfield said. "And my sister?"

"Victoria had the headache," Mrs. Daventry said. "She had luncheon with us, but was obliged to lie down on her bed in the afternoon."

"Was she? She has always been prone to headaches," Lord Metfield said politely. "Though I thought she had improved lately -- so she told me, at any rate."

"Yes, so she thought," Mrs. Daventry said. "She was most upset today -- she had felt pretty confident that she had finally found a cure for her migraines, and now they have returned, even worse than they have ever been. I have not seen her in such poor spirits for ages! She was hardly able to partake of any food!"

"Migraines are unpredictable," Mr. Drummond remarked. "Has Lady Victoria suffered from them long?"

"Ever since she was a child," Lord Metfield said. "Though we used to call them emergency headaches, not migraines. She always gets them when she expects trouble. I suppose migraines have their uses."

"How unkind of you, my lord!" Mrs. Daventry exclaimed. "She is suffering so! I have not seen her so unwell for years!"

"I do not doubt she is ill," Lord Metfield said. "Perhaps, Drummond, if you could spare the time you might call on her and see what you can do for her?"

Mr. Drummond said that he certainly would if Lady Victoria agreed to the scheme, but also informed them that there was not much hope for a permanent cure if the lady was indeed suffering from migraines.

Soon after that, everyone retired to their rooms to dress for dinner. Alice had just left her bath and put on her petticoat when there was a knock at the door of her dressing-room.

"Alice," she heard her brother's voice. "Alice, may I come in?"

He was speaking French, which he had not done ever since they had arrived in Metfield. That probably meant he did not wish the servants to understand him, and Alice decided to follow his example.

"I am not dressed yet," she replied, also in French.

"I need to talk to you. It's urgent."

"Come back in ten minutes," Alice said. "I will be ready by then."

She hurriedly put on her evening dress, and told her maid that a very simple hairdo would be sufficient. When Laurent came back to her door, the maid was almost finished doing Alice's hair and Alice asked him to come in.

Laurent came in and waited for Alice's maid to complete her work and leave the room.

"What is so important that it cannot wait until later?" Alice wanted to know once her maid had gone.

"I needed to talk to you," Laurent said, and added, in French, "Preferably without any listeners."

Alice forced herself to laugh. Laurent's earnestness was not a good sign.

"What about my father or Mr. Blake? They speak French, don't they? Mrs. Trevor does, too."

"I was thinking about the servants, in fact. We don't want them to gossip, do we?"

"And this is why you have called on me in my room, asking me to send my maid away," Alice said dryly. "That will not cause any gossip, I suppose."

"Surely I can talk to my own sister whenever I want to," Laurent said indignantly.

"Certainly," Alice said. "But the servants may still want to know why we were talking in a language no one else knows. They are not stupid."

"They may want to know, but we will not tell them." Laurent said. "As long as they wonder, they do not know." He became earnest again. "Alice, I am worried."

"Is this what you came to tell me?"

Laurent nodded.

"What are you worried about then," Alice asked. She wanted to feign ignorance, but her brother knew her too well to be fooled for long. He was not stupid either -- she should have known he would notice what was going on.

"Don't you think it is rather strange that accidents keep happening to me ever since our arrival in Metfield?" Laurent asked. Alice was glad that, for once, someone took her into his confidence. Laurent had always taken her seriously, and luckily he had not yet adopted the English way of thinking ladies delicate beings who needed to be sheltered from anything that might turn out to be unpleasant. She hoped he would never do so. It was good to know that there was at least one reasonable man in the house.

"I would think it rather strange, I suppose," Alice said. "But back home you had many accidents as well."

"Brought on by myself, mainly," Laurent agreed. "But right now things keep happening even without me taking any risks."

"Have there been any more incidents but those two?" Alice wanted to know. Laurent hesitated, which in itself was an answer.

"Laurent?"

"I would not call it an incident, actually," Laurent said. "Perhaps I am reading too much into things, and I am all wrong. But after we had dined at my grandmother's the other night, I woke up feeling cold and felt thought there was someone in my room -- apart from myself, that is. You know how it feels when you wake up and think someone is watching you? This was just how I felt that night. I lit a candle, and searched the room, but there was no one there. Then I closed the window because it was chilly, and climbed back into my bed. Only then I realised that I'd never opened the window in the first place, so who did?"

Alice shivered. "This sounds strange indeed! Why did you not tell us?"

"I did not want to frighten you," Laurent said. "But now I have changed my mind, and I think you need to know. Someone does not want us here, Alice."

"That is not exactly news," Alice said. "Mr. Blake told us as much when we arrived in England, don't you remember?"

"I do. We did know as much before," Laurent admitted. "But I did not think people would go so far as to try to kill me."

He had said this so calmly that Alice gave him a disbelieving stare. His tone of voice did not show any fear, and she was not certain whether he felt any. Was he aware of how dangerous the situation was for him? Was he taking this seriously enough?

"You do not think anyone is trying to do that," she said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I do," Laurent replied. "And so do you."

Alice sighed. Laurent read her like an open book, as usual. "What are we going to do?" she asked him. "I was thinking of going back to Lausanne. Actually, I only wanted to stay as long as you remained ignorant of what was going on. There is no need to remain here now. Let us accept Monsieur Chaillot's invitation and go back to live with him."

"I will not run away," Laurent said. "I am not a coward, Alice. Whoever wants to do this to me will have to face me."

"But this is madness, Laurent! Why put yourself at risk? If we both demand to be taken back to Switzerland, my father will have to let us go!"

"I am sure he will let us go, but I do not want to leave," Laurent said. "I want to be here, where I belong! No doubt Lausanne would be a safe place for us to be, but if we leave England now there is no chance for us to ever find out who is planning to do this to me. There is only one way to capture the culprit, Alice. I must stay here and make come out into the open. Otherwise I will never be safe, and I have no desire to remain in hiding for the rest of my life."

Alice had to admit that there was something to what Laurent had said.

"But perhaps you would be safer if you went back," Laurent added. "Monsieur Chaillot will look after you, Alice, and once we have eliminated the danger you can return and be comfortable here. What do you say?"

"No way," Alice said rudely. "If you stay here, so will I."

"But Alice, I can see you are frightened!"

"And you believe I would not be frightened in Lausanne, knowing that there is a murderer at large in Metfield waiting to get his hands on you? No, Laurent, I will not do this. I will stay here where I belong. You are the only relation I have -- I am not going to let you down."

"I am not the only relation you have, Alice," Laurent pointed out. "There is my father, and our aunts and uncles."

"You are the only one that matters. The only person I can trust," Alice said.

"This is not true, Alice. I trust my father, and I am certain Blake is dependable. I am not really sure about Drummond, but I believe my father would not have asked him to come here if he were not trustworthy, so I am inclined to follow my father's lead in that case. After all, there is nothing Drummond could gain by my death, is there, so why should he involve himself in a plot to murder me? And there is Bernadine -- you do not think you cannot trust Bernadine, do you? The woman brought us up, for God's sake!"

"Of course I trust Bernadine," Alice said. "She has always been like a mother to us! Losing my trust in her would be like losing my trust in myself! But let us face it, Laurent -- Bernadine is not in a position to protect you!"

"Perhaps not," Laurent said. "Except, maybe, that the murderer will leave me alone while she is around. There is safety in numbers, Alice."

"No, there is not. Someone has tried to murder you twice, not caring who else was present."

"True," Laurent said. "I suppose it is because whoever wants to kill me wants to make sure that there are plenty of witnesses to my tragic accident."

Alice shuddered. "Laurent, I beg you, come back to Lausanne with me!" There was only so much one could do to keep accidents from happening. Laurent was by no means safe, even if he thought so, and no matter how careful he or those around him were, there was no way to ensure his safety.

Laurent shook his head. "No, Alice," he said. "If I go away now, we will never know who is trying to do this."

"I do not care to know that," Alice said. "I just want you to stay alive, don't you understand?"

"Do you want that person to go unpunished?" Laurent asked. "Do you want them to be free to do whatever they like -- perhaps turn against my father next? I could never face anyone again if that happened."

"You'd rather they killed you?"

"No. I'd rather catch them red-handed at the attempt," Laurent said. "Which is what we will do, Alice."

Laurent had always been an optimist, Alice thought, but never had he been foolhardy. She did not know why he suddenly turned out to be just that. He knew someone was trying to murder him, and instead of running for safety, which would have been the sensible thing to do, he had decided to stand his ground and see it through, taking every consequence into account. He was either brave or very, very foolish. Alice was very much inclined to believe the latter, although the fact surprised her. There had never been any signs of stupidity in him before.

She only hoped Laurent knew what he was about, but was by no means sure that it was so. Whatever was going to happen, though, she would stay in England with him. There was no way she was going to let her brother down when he most needed her. Perhaps there was not much she could do to protect him, but she could investigate and find out who had made those two -- or maybe even three -- attempts on Laurent's life before that person struck again.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Laurent demanded a private conference with his father and astounded Lord Metfield by disclosing his suspicions to him. Lord Metfield saw no point in denying the obvious -- though he had not been acquainted with his son for long, he knew Laurent was no fool and would not take too kindly to being treated like one. Besides, Lord Metfield thought, it would not hurt Laurent to become aware of the danger he was in -- it would make him take better care of himself and be more cautious. He was also more likely to cooperate in any measures his father thought necessary for his safety, and would understand why he wished either Blake or Drummond to be with him at all times whenever he left the house.

At first, it did not look as if Laurent was going to cooperate, however. On the contrary, Lord Metfield was horrified to find out that Laurent was planning to play an active part in the investigations -- that in fact he meant to lure the murderer into a trap to catch him red-handed, and that he deemed the risk he was taking negligible.

"Laurent, you cannot have considered the matter," Lord Metfield said, trying to dissuade him. "There is no need for you to put yourself in danger."

"Isn't there?" Laurent retorted. "Have you already found out who did it then?"

Lord Metfield sighed. "Not yet," he said. "But I'd hate you to get hurt - there must be a less foolhardy way for us to find the fellow than letting you bait him."

"As soon as you have hit on one, tell me," Laurent said. "Only I do not believe your chances will be very good -- we will need evidence. No one will believe us if the person is not caught doing anything. Not that I believe he will sit back and wait until you knock at his door, but that is just my personal opinion." Laurent smiled. "I may be wrong."

Lord Metfield marvelled at how composed his son looked. The thought that someone was trying to murder him seemed to leave him remarkably unimpressed. In Laurent's place, he would have been terrified. On the other hand, there was a possibility that this calm demeanour was Laurent's way of showing a brave front while secretly shaking in his boots. Lord Metfield would not have blamed him.

"Laurent, I do not want you to take unnecessary risks," he said.

"Rest assured, Father," Laurent said. "None of the risks I take will be unnecessary."

He sounded determined, and Lord Metfield doubted he would be able to dissuade him. In a way Laurent was just as stubborn as his sister.

"You will not tell your sister about this," Lord Metfield said. "We do not want her to get worried."

"I have already talked to her about it," Laurent replied. "Once you know her better you will realise that it was the best thing to do. Alice hates being treated like a baby. If she suspected any such thing, she'd go off and do something incredibly foolish to prove she is grown up and can take care of herself. Besides it is useless for me to try and keep anything from her -- she is bound to find out." Laurent laughed. "Though I often wished I could keep things from her. Her scolds are worse than what my mother's used to be, believe me."

Laurent then left his father, to attend to his lessons, and Lord Metfield sent a message to his secretary, desiring him to come and speak to him at the earliest opportunity.

Mr. Blake seemed to be in an unusually bleak mood when he arrived in his lordship's study five minutes later. He listened to Lord Metfield's description of his encounter with Laurent without comment. Only when Lord Metfield told him that Laurent had also confided in his sister he showed some reaction.

"I do not think Lady Alice needed much help from her brother to find out what is going on here," he said, looking miserable. "She told me someone was trying to murder her brother even before he had had a chance to speak to her about it."

"What did you say to her?" Lord Metfield demanded.

"That there was no need for her to worry," Mr. Blake said. "I could have spared myself the trouble. She told me to keep my lies for moments when they were less distinguishable."

His secretary sounded decidedly bitter, Lord Metfield thought. He gave him a searching look.

"That rankled, did it?" he asked.

"I admit it did," Mr. Blake said. "I do believe I never gave Lady Alice any reason to distrust me, and that her accusations were unjust."

"She knows that, I am certain," Lord Metfield said soothingly. "We should allow for her agitated state of mind and not take offence at her unkind words."

Mr. Blake looked as if he was going to say something in reply to that but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he went to the window and looked out, apparently lost in thought.

"What are we going to do now?" he finally asked. His voice sounded businesslike now -- Robert Blake as Lord Metfield knew him was back.

"Nothing will change, as far as I am concerned," Lord Metfield said. "I still want either you or Drummond to be with Laurent whenever he is outdoors."

"And indoors?" Mr. Blake wanted to know. "Just because the murderer has not struck inside the house yet does not mean that he will not."

"I was thinking of employing a reliable valet," Lord Metfield said.

"How do we know the man is reliable?" Mr. Blake asked. "What would keep the murderer from either letting himself be hired or sending someone into the house to act for him?"

Lord Metfield sighed. "You have got a point," he said. "So no valet just yet?"

"I cannot recommend it, my lord," Mr. Blake said. "Unless, of course, you are able to find a man who can be trusted implicitly."

"We will see," Lord Metfield said. "In the meantime we must, all of us, keep an eye on Laurent to keep him safe."

Mr. Blake laughed. "He will hate it," he said.

"We will make sure he does not notice, then."

"My lord, he already has noticed a great deal," Mr. Blake said. "It will be hard to outwit him -- he is an exceptionally bright young gentleman."

"Try, at least," Lord Metfield said.

"Certainly, my lord," Mr. Blake said. "Would that be all?"

Lord Metfield stared at his secretary. He had sounded decidedly ironic, but gave him the blandest of looks in return of his stare. Perhaps his impression had been wrong, Lord Metfield thought.

"I believe that is all for the moment," Lord Metfield said, realising that a reply was expected of him.

Mr. Blake, with a short bow, left the room. In the hall he met Lady Alice and Mrs. Trevor, who were about to go for a walk in the garden. Lord Metfield had asked him not to take offence at what Lady Alice had said to him the day before, but he found it very difficult to forget her accusations -- and even more difficult to forgive her. His greeting was therefore frosty, though very civil. Lady Alice gave him a surprised look -- and then, probably recollecting yesterday's incident, blushed and murmured a greeting in return. She barely waited for Mrs. Trevor to reply to him, and quickly retreated outside.

Her reaction to meeting him slightly mollified him. It was obvious that she was ashamed of what she had said -- she had probably become aware of the wrong she had done him. He was much more inclined to put their quarrel behind him than just five minutes before, and hoped that Lady Alice would agree in this matter. Feeling resentment for each other while living under the same roof was an awkward business and it was even more awkward considering that he was her father's secretary. Mr. Blake hoped they would soon be on friendly terms with each other again.

The coldness of Mr. Blake's greeting still haunted Alice -- so much that she hardly paid attention to what Mrs. Trevor said to her. Mrs. Trevor did notice her anxiety, and did not resent it.
Lady Alice had a great deal to worry about at the moment, and bore it rather well on the whole. Mrs. Trevor had not known Lady Alice for long, but she already respected her for her good sense and manners. She had been brought up well, which gave Mrs. Trevor a favourable opinion of the late Lady Metfield. She might have made some mistakes in her life, but she had taken no chances in the upbringing of her children. They were a credit to her, and their father had no reason to be ashamed of either her or them. Well, he was not. There was a great deal to be said in favour of a man who stood by his wife, even though she had left him after only a few months of marriage, and who shouldered the responsibility of two almost grown-up children as a matter of course without asking any questions. It was most unfair, Mrs. Trevor thought, that this decision of his should cause him so much anxiety now.

"Mrs. Trevor," Alice suddenly said, interrupting Mrs. Trevor's civil conversation. "Do you think Mrs. Griffiths would think it strange of me if I asked her for a list of our servants and the chores they have to do every day? Some kind of timetable, telling me who is supposed to doing what and at what time?"

"Why do you need such a list, Lady Alice?" Mrs. Trevor asked.

"I was thinking," Alice explained, "that perhaps one of the servants is having a joke at our expense by impersonating the Metfield Ghost. If I had such a list, I could check which of them had an opportunity to do so. But I do not want to raise any suspicion -- if the servants are indeed innocent, such an inquiry would cause a great deal of resentment, don't you think? Nothing infuriates an honest person more than being suspected of dishonesty. I would not wish to upset the servants -- I'd rather have them take my side."

"So what will be your excuse?" Mrs. Trevor wanted to know. "If you do not mean to tell Mrs. Griffiths that you suspect the servants of foul play, what are you planning to tell her?"

Alice smiled grimly. "I am not yet really acquainted with the customs in this household, this is all. I will tell her that as the new mistress of Metfield Hall I need to know what everyone is supposed to be doing so I won't make any unreasonable demands of everyone. How does that sound for an excuse?"

"It might work," Mrs. Trevor admitted. "Though Mrs. Griffiths might yet see through it. Mrs. Griffiths is a shrewd woman."

Alice nodded. "Housekeepers must be shrewd," she said. "But I need that list, so it is a risk I must take. I have one comfort -- Mrs. Griffiths hates me anyway, so I cannot really sink myself in her esteem."

Mrs. Trevor laughed. "Probably not," she said. "You will merely be guilty of another piece of impudence, but Mrs. Griffiths cannot do much about that. She knows very well that opposing you would mean hazarding her position in this house, and rest assured -- she will not do that."

Mrs. Griffiths did not show any surprise at Alice's request. She merely said that it would take a day or two for her to make up a list that should satisfy her ladyship. Alice decided to be gracious about it and told Mrs. Griffiths that she would be content to peruse the list in two days, and expressed a non-existent hope that the task would not be too much of a bother to her housekeeper. Mrs. Griffith acknowledged this with a polite nod, and after having inquired whether there was anything more she could do for her ladyship she took her leave.

Having accomplished her plan without much fuss, Alice went into the music room to practise one of her piano sonatas. She was interrupted half an hour later by the arrival of visitors.

Mrs. Goodwin and her son and daughter had come to inquire after Laurent's health. Miss Goodwin seemed to be greatly relieved when Laurent entered the drawing-room without the support of crutches -- or a footman, at least. He seemed to be cheerful and in perfect health, and Miss Goodwin gave him a happy smile upon realising that.

Mr. Goodwin treated Laurent's misfortune as a bit of a joke, which was not surprising -- he could not be aware of the more sinister aspects of Laurent's accidents. Laurent was content to join him in that, and since he was perfectly ready to laugh at his "making a fool of himself", he was able to put his guests at ease and even reassure his sister to some extent.

Even Alice was able to forget the previous day for a few moments and joined in their conversation, showed an eagerness to hear of Miss Goodwin's new pelisse and Mr. Goodwin's new pair of pistols which had arrived from London only this morning, and laughed at their jokes along with them.

The Goodwins were just about to leave when another visitor was announced -- Lady Victoria Daventry had come to pay a call on her niece.

"I was shocked to hear what happened yesterday," she said, once the greetings were over. She turned to Laurent. "I hope you were not seriously hurt!"

"No, ma'am," Laurent said politely. "I have only got a couple of bruises. Nothing that will not be better in a week or two."

"I cannot understand why your father allowed you to ride such an unreliable horse," she said. "He should have known better than that."

"I have no reason to complain about my horse," Laurent said. "My father's judgement is not at fault, believe me."

"Well, yes," Lady Victoria reluctantly agreed. "My brother has always been a good judge of horseflesh, I must admit. I suppose everyone must take a fall now and then. We must be grateful that nothing happened, and I trust you will be more careful next time."

"Without doubt I will, ma'am," Laurent said. He then said goodbye to his guests, saying that Mr. Drummond had promised him to help him with his studies and was waiting for him in the library. The Goodwins chose that moment to leave, and so Alice was left alone with Mrs. Trevor and her aunt.

"I hope you are feeling better today, Aunt," Alice said.

"Much better, thank you," Lady Victoria replied. "Once I had had a good sleep, the headache was all but gone. Yet it was not gone entirely until this morning."

"Do you get these headaches often, my lady?" Mrs. Trevor enquired politely.

"Not as often as I used to, thank Heaven," Lady Victoria said. "I hope things will remain that way."

Mrs. Trevor and Alice made some sympathetic remarks. Alice then asked whether her grandmother was feeling well.

"She is feeling unusually cantankerous," Lady Victoria said. "This is why I excused myself at the earliest possibility. It was the only means of remaining in charity with her."

Alice could readily believe that, but did not say so. "I suppose her age and infirmity do a great deal to make her feel cross and out of spirits," she merely remarked.

"Oh yes, though her disposition has never been the friendliest," Lady Victoria said. "But mother or not, I will not put up with her telling me off for the merest trifles when all I want to do is to make her more comfortable. I may be her daughter, but that does not give her the right to treat me like a slave."

Her aunt had a point, Alice thought. Parents no doubt deserved their children's respect, but once the children had grown up surely they were entitled to some deference as well. Her own mother had never been lacking concerning that -- she had always treated her children with respect, even when she had scolded them. There were some things, Alice knew, which her mother would never have said to her, not even in the worst of tempers.

At the end of her visit, Alice escorted her aunt to the stables and saw her off. Just as Lady Victoria had mounted her horse and ridden away, Alice heard a shot coming, as she believed, from behind the house. She immediately broke into a run. Recent events had taught her not to ignore such occurrences -- she half expected to find either her father or, more likely, her brother lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Nothing of this was true, however. Turning around the corner, she saw Laurent himself, pointing a pistol at a wafer which had been pinned to a post some twenty paces from him. Mr. Blake and Mr. Drummond were with him, and all of them were looking as if they were having an excellent time of it. Alice's fear evaporated -- and turned into fury instead.

"Was this really necessary?" she demanded, walking towards the group. "You gave me such a nasty fright! You should have told me you meant to go outside to shoot!"

"I am sorry, Lady Alice. I believe this was my fault," Mr. Blake said, trying to placate her.

"Oh, I should have known, I suppose," Alice said irritably.

"Should you?" Mr. Blake retorted. "And why, Lady Alice, should you have known?" For the first time in their acquaintance he had dropped his polite, level-headed facade and turned out to be just as annoyed as Alice was -- and perfectly ready to quarrel with her.

Alice realised that she was treading on thin ice. But she could not for the life of her restrain herself. She was angry, and the world was going to know all about it.

"Because it is you and my father who have decided between you that I am to be kept in ignorance of everything that happens here!" she snapped. "And you never even considered that not knowing would drive me crazy!"

"So it has, apparently," Mr. Blake said coldly. "Or you would have realised that we could not inform you, since you had guests and we thought it wiser not to advertise Mr. Daventry's whereabouts to everyone -- not when the setting for another accident would be so very convenient!"

"But why does he have to fire those pistols anyway?" Alice demanded. "Why scare the entire household?"

"It was you who did not think, apparently," Mr. Blake snapped. "We thought it might be useful for Mr. Daventry to know how to defend himself in an emergency."

"Of course," Alice said. "One cannot discuss such matters with a mere female. Leave them in the dark and keep them happy is your maxim, isn't it? Never mind if they die of fright when they hear a pistol shot in the garden! Go back to my brother, Mr. Blake, and make sure nothing happens to him, for if anything DOES happen I would not wish to stand in your shoes."

Furiously, Alice ran back to the house and went inside. Mr. Blake had had a point, certainly, but that did not make Alice more kindly disposed towards him. What made him think he had a right to treat her like a child? Perhaps she had provoked him, but surely that had not been enough to make him forget his manners and say those dreadful things to her.

She went to the music room to take her anger out on the piano, but had not yet finished arranging the music sheets on the piano when the door opened and Mr. Blake came into the room.

"Well, sir?" Alice asked, making an effort to pull herself together. "What do you want?"

"I want to apologise," Mr. Blake said. "I had no right to speak to you in that tone, my lady. I am sorry."

Alice nodded. Her anger was gone -- it had disappeared the moment Mr. Blake had said he was sorry. "I admit the provocation was great," she said. "I was not too kind to you either, was I?"

Mr. Blake smiled. "I was afraid you were going to tear my head off," he said.

Alice sighed. "My mother often said my quick temper was the worst of my faults," she said. "She said she knew because it was also hers. I am truly sorry for the things I said yesterday, and for treating you so abominably just now."

"Let us not think of it any more," Mr. Blake suggested.

"I'd be more than happy not to think of it any more," Alice said.

"Good." Mr. Blake bowed. "I need to go back into the garden, Lady Alice. Your brother wants to continue his shooting exercises."

"I promise not to interrupt them any more," Alice said, smiling. "Just take good care my brother does not come to any harm, Mr. Blake."

"This is one thing you can be absolutely sure of," Mr. Blake said, and left.

Alice stayed in the music room, wondering where that fluttering feeling in her stomach had suddenly come from. Was she falling ill, or was it just an after-effect of the scare she had just endured? Slightly confused, she sat down at the piano and started to play.

Chapter Fifteen

Everyone was on edge during the following week. It was as if each inhabitant of Metfield Hall was watching with bated breath to see which accident would befall next. No one doubted that, whatever accident it was, it would befall the heir. The Ghost, the servants whispered when none of the Family were within earshot, had picked Mr. Laurent Daventry as his next victim, and would not rest until Mr. Laurent was dead and buried. Laurent was aware of these rumours, and shrugged them off for the most part. He was intent on finding out who had caused the accidents -- he did not believe in ghosts any more than his father or sister did -- but so far he had come to no conclusion. He did find it unnerving to have so many people watch him, though. It made him feel like a rabbit with birds of prey circling above its head.

Two days after Laurent's fall from his horse, Mrs. Griffiths brought Alice the list she had promised her -- a list of all the servants in the house, including their work schedules. Alice thanked the housekeeper politely -- she knew Mrs. Griffiths had not yet fully accepted her as the mistress of the house and tried to be on good terms with her -- and, the moment the housekeeper left, she settled down in the window seat to read. Mrs. Griffiths had made it clear to her that the list was incomplete; it only concerned the servants in the house. There was no mention of gardeners or stable hands, simply because they were no concern of hers and she had no idea what their business was or when they were supposed to go about it. Alice wondered whether to demand similar lists from the head gardener and Rogers, the head groom, but was reluctant to do so. She did not know how to convince them of the necessity, and so she had to content herself with the list of the house servants for the time being.

Alice was surprised to see how many people it took to keep the household running. She had not thought about it before, and was almost dumbfounded when she read the list of names and duties and realised what a vast responsibility it was to make sure everything was working properly. Mrs. Trevor had been right when she had said that there was a difference between running a household with two servants, one of whom was a friend of the family rather than a servant, and keeping an eye on the proceedings of a household the size of Metfield Hall, with a total of twenty servants, the staff employed in the grounds and stables not included.

There were the upper servants, whom she had already met -- Mrs. Griffiths, the housekeeper, Holden, the butler, Mr. Avery, her father's valet (who was also looking after Laurent at the moment), Nell, her own maid. Mrs. Smith, the cook. Mr. Harris, the steward. But most of the names were new to her, Alice had to admit, and she could not put any faces to them. She needed to talk to someone who knew those people and who could tell her more about them. Someone who was in her father's confidence and to whom she could confide her reasons for having Mrs. Griffiths draw up the list in the first place. Alice decided to talk the matter over with Mr. Blake.

She found him in the small room at the back of the house that served as his office, writing some business letters for her father. The moment she entered the room, he looked up from his work and smiled. It was a heart-warming smile, Alice thought, and was momentarily distracted by it. The more she saw of Mr. Blake, the more charming she found him.

"Lady Alice," he said. "What a pleasant surprise! Is there anything I can do for you?"

Alice hesitated. "I can see that you are busy," she said.

"These letters will be finished in a trice, Lady Alice," he said. "So if there is anything you need of me, do not hesitate to let me know."

"I need your advice in one matter," Alice admitted. "Mrs. Griffiths has given me a list of the servants in this house and their duties, so we could find out if any of them was not where they were supposed to be on the evenings when the Ghost was seen -- or when those dreadful things happened to Laurent."

"This was a good idea, Lady Alice," Mr. Blake said approvingly.

Alice blushed. "Thank you," she said. "I will do what I can to find the person who is doing this to my brother, and I tried to be as unobtrusive about it as I could. What could be more natural than me asking for such a list, being new to the household and expected to act as its mistress?"

"What indeed, Lady Alice? I am sure no one suspected anything."

"Anyway, now that Mrs. Griffiths gave me the list, I realised that I did not know most of the people mentioned in it. I daresay once I have seen the faces attached to those names it will be easier, but the thing is I have a dreadful memory for names. Do you know all the servants here? Have you been here often?"

"Not too often, because his lordship did not often honour the place with his presence," Mr. Blake said. "But I was here several times, and have become acquainted with the servants. I will certainly help you, to the best of my ability."

"I did think of summoning all the servants to see who was who, but I felt it would be disruptive to their work and ... and people might be able to guess my motives if I did."

"You are right, Lady Alice. This would not do. If the assailant is indeed one of the servants, he would be forewarned and we do not want him to know we are on his track. Not until we have caught him."

He gave Alice another smile and promised to meet her in half an hour in the garden to talk with her about the list. By that time, he said, he hoped the letters he was working on would be written. So, after having agreed on the summer house for a meeting point, Alice left Mr. Blake to his work.

In the half hour she had to wait for Mr. Blake to finish his task, Alice put on her bonnet and spencer and went to take a walk in the garden. She put the list into her pocket and set out in a brisk walk towards the sea. Much as she disliked the house -- she still did not feel at home in the vast halls and grand apartments of her father's residence -- she liked the gardens very much and had come to love the sea. She loved hearing the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below, and the plaintive cries of the seagulls. It had a soothing effect on her, and the small summer house overlooking the cove had become one of her favourite spots around her new home.

Alice sat down in the summer house, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. She wondered at herself for not asking her father to help her with her list -- surely he knew his own servants best. So why had she asked his secretary instead? Was it because she still did not trust her father?

She had to dismiss that idea. Alice had distrusted her father at first, mainly because the circumstances of his separation from her mother had been highly suspicious in her eyes, but she no longer had any doubts about him. He had proved himself more than once -- his concern for both of them, and his exertions to make them feel at home had been enough evidence for his kindness and respectability. If she had still had any doubts in the matter, they would have been allayed during the moments following Laurent's fall. Alice had not known her father for long, but she had been aware that his lordship hardly ever lost his composure. Still, he had been so upset by the incident that his customary cheerfulness had been all but gone.

Still, Alice had asked Mr. Blake for help, rather than her father. The truth was that she felt more comfortable discussing things with him, in spite of the differences of opinion they had had of late. She had got to know Mr. Blake as a pleasant, well-bred and dependable young man, and to be honest she liked him a great deal. She did not want to examine the friendship she felt for him too closely -- she was none too certain about the outcome of these reflections and was equally uncertain whether her peace of mind would survive them. It was much safer to see him as a friend who could be depended on, and as such she had asked him to come to her assistance. Yes, this was it. Her request had certainly not had anything to do with the way he often looked at her, or the fact that she liked him to be around. Or with his smile.

To pass the time until Mr. Blake would join her, Alice re-read the list. There were not many names she knew. She realised that she had taken too much for granted in this house. She had never lost a thought on those who worked hard to ensure her comfort. In other words, she had become as bad as any of the heiresses in Mme Vincent's Seminary, those girls she had always despised for their arrogance and their conviction that the world spun around them and their needs. It was a humbling thought. Alice resolved to amend this mistake as quickly as possible.

Mr. Blake came sooner than Alice had expected him.

"Have you finished your letters, sir?" Alice asked him. She could not help breaking into a bright smile when she saw him approach the summer house.

"I have," Mr. Blake said, smiling back at her.

"Was it tedious business?" she asked.

"Very tedious. Which is why his lordship employs a secretary to deal with these matters," Mr. Blake said with a grin. "But I cannot complain. Your father is a very generous employer."

Alice had heard that from several people already, and it pleased her. It gave her some more evidence of her father's worthy character.

"So, what exactly do you want me to do for you, Lady Alice?" Mr. Blake asked when Alice invited him to sit down beside her.

"As I said before," Alice began, "I hardly know any of the servants, apart from those I see regularly. I felt you might be able to enlighten me -- is there anyone among them who could be connected to either the sightings of the Metfield Ghost or those attempts on my brother's life? Anyone who might gain something by his death?"

"I would hate to think of such a person in your father's house," Mr. Blake said earnestly.

"So would I," Alice said. "But shall we look over the list nevertheless?"

"Certainly, my lady, if you wish." He reached out to take the list from Alice, and for a moment their hands brushed against each other as she handed it over to him. It was only for a fleeting moment, but Alice still felt herself blush, and from the look in Mr. Blake's eyes she could tell that he, too, felt the effect of their touch. None of them spoke; Mr. Blake busied himself with reading the list and Alice, desperate to get rid of the awkwardness between them, got up and walked over to the other end of the summer house, looking out over the sea.

"Among those you know, my lady," he finally began. "Is there anyone that you think is above suspicion?"

"Nell cannot have anything to do with the ghost," Alice said after a moment. "She was with me when I first saw him -- that is, she came into the room just as I saw the ghost outside. Besides, I know she was busy mending one of my gowns when the second assault on Laurent took place. I told her to do so when I put on my riding habit, and I found the finished dress in my dressing-room when I returned to it. She could not have had the time to go out of the house, attack Laurent, run back and mend my gown."

Mr. Blake nodded. "I would have been greatly surprised if she had known anything about the matter," he said. "Her entire family are working on the estate, and they have proved themselves to be very trustworthy."

"I think we can also rule out Mr. Avery," Alice said. "He has been working for my father for decades, hasn't he?"

"So he has, and I believe your father has always found him extremely loyal," Mr. Blake said.

"But as for the rest..." Alice said. "I do not know."

"Very well, then let us see. Jane Butterfield and Anne Timmons are out. You remember, my lady, how I told you two girls had handed in their notice when the ghost first appeared?"

Alice nodded.

"Well, Jane and Anne are their replacements. They were not even near the Hall when the ghost showed himself for the first time."

"They might still know something about it," Alice said. "What if they are in league with whoever plays the ghost and once the two old housemaids had been got rid of took their place in the household to ... to spy on us, or to open the door to intruders, or..." Alice broke off. "Do you think I am too distrustful, Mr. Blake?" she asked. "Am I overanxious?"

"Maybe, but I cannot blame you," Mr. Blake said calmly. "I still tend to believe that the two new girls had nothing to do with it, though I will take your suggestion into account."

"What do they look like?" Alice asked. "I was not well acquainted with the other two, so I am afraid I do not know which housemaids are the new ones."

"Jane Butterfield is the plump one," Mr. Blake said. "The sandy-haired one. Anne Timmons is rather thin, and not very tall."

"The redheaded girl with the freckled face?" Alice asked. "She seems a rather jolly person to me."

"Oh yes, she is. Always singing a song or other." Mr. Blake smiled. "And as far as I am able to tell, she works hard -- Mrs. Griffiths seems to set great store by her. You may not know it, Lady Alice, but Mrs. Griffiths is even harder to please than you are." He gave Alice a teasing smile which she chose to ignore.

"I do wonder whether Mrs. Griffiths was the ghost -- or knows who it is," Alice said darkly. "She hates us, and I do believe she wants to get rid of us."

"She might," Mr. Blake said, after a moment or two of reflection. "On the other hand, she would be well able to redirect suspicion, if she was involved in the plot, so maybe she is not."

Alice sighed. This was more difficult than she had thought. "What about the footmen?" she asked.

"Jack was waiting on us the other evening when both you and his lordship saw the ghost."

"And the other three?"

"I have no idea. We will leave them on the list of suspects for the time being, and I will try to find out what they were doing. May I keep the list? I want to make a copy of it; it may well come in useful."

"Certainly, Mr. Blake," Alice said.

"I will give it back to you as soon as I am finished," he said. "And I think I will ask his lordship to demand another such list from Rogers and the head gardener."

"I hope this will not be an effort in vain," Alice said. "I would hate to put people to all that trouble for nothing."

"It is not for nothing, Lady Alice. Even if none of the people on the list were involved in the plot, the list serves as a means of establishing their innocence. That in itself must be a good purpose."

Alice nodded. She had been so determined to find the one responsible for the assaults on Laurent that she had quite forgotten about the innocent ones -- the ones whose blamelessness needed to be proved as well as the attacker's guilt.

"Shall we go back to the house?" Mr. Blake asked. There was a fresh breeze coming in from the sea and it was getting cool in the summer house. Alice consented, and together they made their way across the park towards Metfield Hall.

That evening, Mr. Blake told his lordship about his discussion with Lady Alice. They were sitting in the library, already dressed for dinner.

"She is a clever girl," Lord Metfield said, sounding pleased. "I like her excuse for having that list made."

"Me too." Mr. Blake smiled. "I thought of making such a list myself, but Mrs. Griffiths is naturally the better person to do so. She is much better acquainted with people's daily schedules."

"I will ask Rogers to do the same for the stable lads," Lord Metfield said. "With him we can be frank, at least. He will be just as eager to find out who attacked Laurent as we are."

Mr. Blake chuckled. He could well imagine what would happen to the culprit if Rogers found him.

"I did give the matter of a valet -- a bodyguard for Mr. Laurent -- another thought," he said, after a short pause.

"I thought we had dismissed that idea?" Lord Metfield asked. "We said that way it would be too easy for the murderer to smuggle someone into the house."

"So we did," Mr. Blake admitted. "I was not thinking of advertising the post, naturally. But I happened to think of the ideal candidate to fill it, my lord. Lewis Duncan."

Lewis Duncan, better known by the epithet "Dandy Duncan", was a promising young prize-fighter Lord Metfield patronised. He had earned his nickname with the elegance of his appearance, which was only marred by his battered face. He still owed Lord Metfield a favour, and was fully aware of the obligation. It might not hurt to ask him whether he would take up the temporary post as Laurent's valet -- until they had found out who had tried to harm him. He would be able to defend Laurent, if there was another attempt to attack him in his own room. But he would also be able to pass himself off as a genuine valet, and thereby avoid gossip among the servants. Lord Metfield liked the idea.

"It is things like these," he said, "that remind me just why I pay you such a handsome salary, Mr. Blake. This is a stroke of genius."

"Thank you, my lord," Mr. Blake said. "I take it I am to write to Mr. Duncan to inquire whether he is available at the moment?"

"By all means," Lord Metfield said. "Write to him and tell him he is desperately needed here."

Chapter Sixteen

"Dandy" Duncan arrived three days later -- and if anyone doubted the explanation that was offered for his presence in Metfield Hall, no one said so. Mr. Avery was quick to deflect any inquiries from the other servants by saying that he had always made it clear to his lordship that he could not be expected to wait on two gentlemen for any longer period of time without feeling that the quality of his work was suffering, and that he was relieved his lordship had found someone to serve Mr. Laurent at last.

Mr. Duncan did not look like the average gentleman's gentleman, and that did cause some remark in the servants' quarters. He was well-dressed, true, and well-spoken, but his battered face did nothing to recommend him. Still, he seemed a kindly sort, was meticulous in the execution of his duties, showed proper respect towards senior servants and was not top-lofty in his dealings with the junior ones, and so he was in a fair way of becoming a general favourite amongst his peers. There were those -- particularly females -- who noticed that his physique did not resemble that of a valet but seemed rather more athletic than was usual for a gentleman of his calling. But he evaded all the questions directed at him with a smile, saying that he had always looked stronger than he was. Since none of the servants frequented the pleasure haunts of London, they were not acquainted with Mr. Duncan's career in the Ring, and in the end they accepted him for what they thought he was -- the heir's personal gentleman.

Mr. Frederick Daventry, however, had his suspicions regarding his nephew's new valet, and confronted his brother with them.

"This Duncan fellow -- what kind of person is he?" he asked one evening, when Laurent, Mr. Blake and Mr. Drummond had already joined the ladies in the drawing room and left them alone in the dining room.

"Highly respectable," Lord Metfield said. "And, according to my son's description, a first-rate valet."

"Much he knows about it," Mr. Daventry grumbled.

"He has had the benefit of Avery's skill for several weeks," Lord Metfield said. "Who, I am sure you will agree, is a highly superior gentleman's gentleman. If Duncan's work can stand the test of being compared to Avery's, he must be pretty good at what he is doing, don't you think? Even Avery himself commended him -- and Avery is terribly hard to please."

Grudgingly, Mr. Daventry had to admit that Avery's approval of Duncan meant a great deal.

"But he does look like a prize-fighter to me," he insisted.

"True. So he does," Lord Metfield agreed calmly. "I did not inquire into his past career, but did you ever consider what prize-fighters do once they grow too old or weak to continue in their profession? They must do something to earn their living, and Duncan's references were in order."

"Another of your charity cases?" Mr. Daventry asked derisively.

Lord Metfield did not deign this question worthy of an answer. Instead, he held the door open for his brother to pass through, and reminded him that the tea tray was probably awaiting them in the drawing room, and that it would not do to keep the ladies waiting for their tea.

Laurent had immediately struck up a friendship with his extraordinary servant. This time, Lord Metfield had not made the mistake of trying to keep anything from his son, and had informed him that the man who had been employed as his personal gentleman was a prize-fighter who was also going to act as his bodyguard. Laurent had laughed at the idea at first, but had submitted to his father's wish when he had realised how serious Lord Metfield was about it.

Perfect amity was established between master and valet when Duncan promised to teach Laurent the art of self defence, and, after two lessons, credited him with a great deal of talent. Laurent entered into the scheme wholeheartedly, and his daily training sessions with Duncan became a part of his routine that he would not miss for the world. Alice, had she known about those lessons, would have been horrified -- how could a violinist like Laurent risk contracting an injury to his hands? But Laurent was wise enough not to share this particular piece of news with his sister, and so she only knew that Duncan was her brother's new valet and, having been a prize-fighter, was also qualified to act as his bodyguard. This knowledge did take a great weight from her shoulders, and so she most readily welcomed "Dandy" Duncan into the household.

With all his sporting lessons -- boxing, shooting, and riding - Laurent did not neglect his academic lessons with Mr. Holroyd, the curate. They met in the library of Metfield Hall punctually at half past nine every morning, and Mr. Holroyd was full of praise for his hard-working pupil. He admired Laurent's intelligence and learning, he said, and assured his lordship that his son would be well able to enter University by the beginning of Hilary Term at the latest. Lord Metfield was highly gratified to hear his son's praise, but hoped that he would have found out who was trying to murder his son by the time Laurent entered university. Lord Metfield did not like the idea of sending his son away from home while the assailant was still at large. At home, one could keep an eye on him. But what would happen in Oxford, or Cambridge, or Edinburgh -- if Laurent did indeed choose to take up the medical profession? The thought alone was enough to make Lord Metfield's blood run cold.

Alice, in the meantime, set about the task of getting to know the servants, and of discovering their whereabouts on those occasions when the Metfield Ghost had shown itself or Laurent had been assaulted. In this, she was ably assisted by Mr. Blake. Alice realised that he was a master in the art of unobtrusive research. The servants trusted Mr. Blake more than they trusted her, and were more likely to speak freely to him than they were in her presence. He was also very good at extracting more information from people than they were aware of. Alice could not help but think that his talents were wasted in Lord Metfield's service. He should have joined the diplomatic service, where his skills were in high demand, and not waste his time interviewing servants on Lord Metfield's country estate. She did mention this to Mrs. Trevor one evening, and while Mrs. Trevor agreed that Mr. Blake's abilities made him a very eligible candidate for a post in the Foreign Office, she also pointed out that, without someone to promote his interests, he was unlikely to gain a position there.

"I see," Alice said quietly. "And there is no one who would be willing to exert himself on Mr. Blake's behalf?"

"I believe his lordship intends to do so," Mrs. Trevor said. "But one must consider that Lord Metfield is not likely to rid himself of so accomplished secretary -- unless, of course, the secretary wishes it, and there is no evidence of Mr. Blake wishing to be anywhere but where he is."

This was strange, Alice thought. Why did Mr. Blake want to work as a mere secretary for Lord Metfield when he had the chance of doing something more lucrative, and infinitely more interesting?

In spite of their hard work, their research did not take them very far. As far as it was possible, all the servants, gardeners and stable hands were accounted for. There were, naturally, some gaps -- no one had taken the trouble to memorise what they had been doing at the time of the various occurrences.

But Mr. Blake was of the opinion that, if someone had an alibi for the time of one of the incidents, they would also be unlikely to be the perpetrators on other occasions. So they had to content themselves with the fact that none of the servants had committed the assaults on Laurent, and that none of them had had a hand in the ghostly happenings at the Hall.

"This leaves us," Alice said unhappily. "The family."

"As well as Mrs. Trevor and myself," Mr. Blake said.

"Mr. Blake!" Alice exclaimed. "I never suspected you!"

"I am glad to hear it. As a matter of fact, I did not do it, but you must admit I had the opportunity -- in all cases."

"Except when my father saw the Ghost," Alice said. "That shows the ghost cannot be you, at any rate."

"True," Mr. Blake said with a smile. "But while dressing up as a ghost and trying to frighten people may not be a gentlemanly pastime, it does not do any harm. Attempting murder does, and I have no alibi for any of those occasions."

"Why are you saying this, Mr. Blake?" Alice asked, suddenly furious. She did not know whether she was most angry with herself for not having realised this before, or with him for telling her. Until now, she had been so certain she could confide in him! Why did he have to ruin everything?

"I am merely drawing your attention to a fact," he said quietly. "I appreciate your confidence in me, Lady Alice, but I felt ... I felt I had to point this out to you, rather than let you find out for yourself, in which case your trust in me would be at an end."

"And am I supposed to trust you still?" Alice asked witheringly.

"That is for you to decide, my lady," Mr. Blake merely said. "Trust is something that cannot be asked for."

Alice turned away from him for a moment, and looked out onto the sea. They had met in the summer house again -- the place was perfect for meetings of this kind, Alice thought. No one could come near the place without being seen, and no one was likely to overhear their conversations. Which had made her think it was a safe place to meet Mr. Blake.

She realised that Mr. Blake was right -- that he had had to make it clear to her that he was not above suspicion, simply to keep her trust. If she had thought of it herself, her faith in him would have been gone forever. By broaching the subject himself, he had made it possible for her to confide in him still -- one was unlikely to draw suspicion on oneself if one was really guilty. Unless one was particularly cunning ... and Mr. Blake was intelligent, there was no denying that fact.

Alice shuddered. She refused to think so ill of Mr. Blake. He was clever, yes, but he could not be playing such a cruel game with her. Besides, he had had plenty of opportunity to get rid of Laurent even before getting to Metfield Hall -- yet the assaults had started after their arrival in England. And what had Mr. Blake to gain by Laurent's death? No, he might not be above suspicion, but she was almost certain that he had had nothing to do with the attempts to murder Laurent.

She turned back to face Mr. Blake. He was still where she had left him, watching her anxiously.

"I am glad you were so honest with me," Alice said. "You were right to point out to me that you are not above suspicion -- but nevertheless I believe you to be innocent."

Mr. Blake smiled. "I am relieved to hear it," he said.

"I do not think Mrs. Trevor has anything to do with it either," Alice said. "We must not forget that she was with my aunt when I saw the ghost for the first time, and she was with me when those tiles almost dropped on Laurent's head."

"True. I had forgotten about that," Mr. Blake said.

"So we can rule her out, too," Alice decided. "And that leaves us with the family."

"The evidence seems to point into that direction," Mr. Blake agreed.

"But who?" Alice asked. "Do you think my uncle...?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell," Mr. Blake replied. "Even if I could, there is no way of proving it."

"I wish I'd never heard of this place," Alice burst out. "We were happy in Lausanne! Why did my father have to drag us here? No one ever did us any harm in Switzerland!"

Mr. Blake offered no reply to that observation, but informed her that his lordship expected to see him in the library, and offered to walk back to the Hall with her. Alice declined the offer -- she wished to be alone, and knowing that she was unlikely to obtain this end in the house, she decided to walk to Bernadine's cottage. At any rate, here was someone she could trust completely.

While Alice was conferring with Mr. Blake in the summer house, Lord Metfield had summoned Mrs. Trevor to plan a treat for his daughter and son.

"They are both working very hard to fit in," he told Mrs. Trevor. "I do think they deserve a break."

Mrs. Trevor smiled. "Certainly, my lord," she said. "Is there anything particular you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of taking them to Hanbury Pool," Lord Metfield said. "On horseback, though I am not certain whether my daughter will wish to ride."

Hanbury Pool was a lake, about five miles from Metfield Hall, and it was a very popular setting for picnics among the local gentry.

"Probably not," Mrs. Trevor said, smiling. "She does not feel all too confident with her equestrian abilities yet."

"It is a pity she did not learn to ride as a child," Lord Metfield said. "Grown-ups worry too much. Perhaps I had better teach her to drive -- she might prefer that to riding."

"Quite possible, my lord."

Lord Metfield smiled. "This does not sound as if the notion had your approval, Mrs. Trevor."

"You are quite mistaken, my lord. I think it will give you an opportunity to spend more time with your daughter, and that has my wholehearted approval. -- Shall our outing to Hanbury Pool be a family trip only, or do you wish to invite some of the neighbours as well?"

"I was planning to invite the Goodwins and Holroyds to join us. Laurent and Alice need friends outside this house, so I am all for encouraging their friendships with those families."

"How about the Pykes?" Mrs. Trevor asked.

"I had no idea Sir Timothy Pyke was in the country again," Lord Metfield said.

"Apparently he returned to his home a couple of days ago, along with his sister," Mrs. Trevor said. "It would be a good idea to introduce Mr. Daventry and Lady Alice to them."

"So it would," Lord Metfield agreed. "How about my sister? I hear she has been trying to be on friendly terms with Alice."

"Lady Victoria has called on Lady Alice very often," Mrs. Trevor said. "She does try to make up for her initial hostility towards your daughter."

"That makes one member of my family, at least," Lord Metfield sighed. "I had not expected her to be the one, but one has to be grateful for the small mercies. We shall invite her too."

"Certainly, my lord. Do you wish me to act as hostess, or would you prefer Lady Alice to do the honours?"

Lord Metfield smiled. "I wanted to surprise them," he said. "So I would be very much obliged to you if you could take over the task."

Mrs. Trevor assured his lordship that she would do her best, and asked him for instructions. Having received them, she went off to discuss the matter with Cook and to write the invitations.

The excursion took place three days later. Mrs. Trevor had done some excellent work -- neither Laurent nor Alice had been aware of the preparations for the trip, and their surprise was great when their father told them that there would be no lessons but that they would go to Hanbury Pool that day. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it promised to be a fine day. Laurent beamed.

"This is a brilliant idea, Father," he cried. "Are we going to ride?"

"If you want to," Lord Metfield replied. "I'm leaving the decision to you."

"Of course I want to ride," Laurent said.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Alice asked her brother. Ever since Laurent had taken his fall, she worried about him whenever he came near a horse.

Laurent laughed. "What do you think is going to happen to me, with dozens of people around me?" he asked.

"What indeed," Alice said, with an undertone that did not escape her father's notice.

"Laurent will be quite safe, I assure you," he said. "As he observed, he will be right in the middle of a large party, and we will ride slowly. What about you, Alice? Do you feel up to going on horseback?"

"How far is it to the lake?" Alice wanted to know. If Laurent was going to ride, so was she, even though the idea of a whole morning on horseback was a daunting one.

"About five miles," Lord Metfield said.

"That is pretty far, isn't it?" Alice faltered, her courage all but deserting her. "It will be ten miles there and back. I do not think I have been on horseback that long before -- I am not sure I can do it."

"What if you go there on horseback and back in a carriage?" Lord Metfield asked. "Do you think this would work?"

Alice agreed that this would suit her very well, and so Lord Metfield made the necessary arrangements.

An hour later, a large party was assembled in the drawing room of Metfield Hall. Apart from the residents of the Hall, there was Mr. and Miss Goodwin, Mr. and Mrs. Holroyd, Lady Victoria Daventry and Sir Timothy and Miss Pyke.

Sir Timothy was a gentleman in his thirties, a widower of several years' standing who usually lived in London and only rarely visited his estate in Dorset. His sister, Barbara Pyke, was a spinster in her early thirties and kept house for her brother.

Sir Timothy openly admitted to having come to Dorset out of curiosity -- Lord Metfield's children were very much talked of among London society, and he had wanted to meet them. He was not exactly a handsome gentleman, but appeared to be a very agreeable sort, and was, to all appearances, on good terms with his neighbours.

Miss Pyke's manners left nothing to be desired either. She seemed to be a good friend of Mrs. Daventry's; they were seated on the sofa next to each other and exchanging Society gossip when Alice and Laurent entered the room. Miss Pyke was most ready to let Alice have her share in the conversation, and when she realised that Alice knew next to nothing about London, she changed the topic to something Alice was more comfortable with.

Lady Victoria, too, was in a gracious mood -- she was pleased to hear that her niece was going to Hanbury Pool on horseback, and tried to persuade her to brave the return journey on horseback as well.

"It is so much more enjoyable," she said, "than sitting in a carriage. I have always found travelling in a carriage extremely tedious. At least one has something to do in the saddle!"

"Undoubtedly," Alice agreed. "But, to be honest, I am not certain I can do it yet, and I do not wish to spoil the day for the other riders by holding them up."

Lady Victoria laughed. "But you would not, my dear," she said. "I am sure we could arrange something for you. You would not be a bother at all!"

"We will see," Alice said though she knew she was not going to ride home. "If I feel like riding when we start our homeward journey, I will. If not, I will join my Aunt Daventry, Miss Pyke and Mrs. Trevor in the barouche."

Lady Victoria looked as if she was going to say something in reply to that, but since Lord Metfield, at that moment, suggested that they had better be on their way, she thought the better of it.

The ride to Hanbury Pool was quite uneventful. Laurent was surrounded by his father, Mr. Blake, Mr. Drummond and his cousin Reggie, so Alice was soon convinced that nothing would happen to him in the course of their trip. Alice followed more slowly, with the Goodwins and her aunt Victoria for company, while Sir Timothy, Mr. and Mrs. Holroyd and Alice's uncle brought up the rear, riding next to the barouche and entertaining the ladies travelling in the carriage.

Mr. Goodwin was particularly attentive -- he pointed the landmarks out to Alice, and always stayed close to her, to assist her should she require his help. Alice noticed that Mr. Blake was looking back at them several times, but could not think of any reason why he should do so. His face was grim, as far as she could tell -- though he was so far ahead that she was not really able to read his expression. It was strange that he should look so forbidding, Alice thought. She could not think of anything she had done to deserve such a fierce glare. Perhaps he was merely concentrating on his task, she finally decided, which was making sure that Laurent came to no harm. That would justify the gloomy look on his face, Alice thought, and contenting herself with that explanation she turned again to Mr. Goodwin, who was happy to furnish her with all the details regarding a chapel she could see on a hilltop in the distance.

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