Joan Smith - Delsie

“No! I don’t intend to shoot anyone.”

“It will be well for you to have some protection, in case the smugglers decide to take advantage of a woman alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Your girls will be here with me,” she pointed out, her eyes widening in fright.

“There is no saying their boyfriends aren’t amongst the smugglers. If it comes to a showdown, I wouldn’t count on the girls for much help.”

“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she said, hoping he didn’t realize how well he was succeeding.

“Not at all. I am merely trying to prepare you for what will in all probability happen.”

She wavered in her mind, half wanting to give in, but disliking to act so cowardly. He spoke on, still in the frightening vein. “Andrew has several guns about the place. Get one and I’ll load it for you and show you how to use it. Be careful you don’t kill someone, with it lying about the place loaded.”

She had suspected before that he was trying to scare her, and was now convinced of it. She shrugged her shoulders and answered facetiously, to conceal her fear. “I don’t want a gun. You will remember, when I am done in, that we have decided on a black coffin for me.”

He scowled at her, but before he could reply, Bobbie came hopping into the room. “Me and Miss Milne are going to the Hall, Mama,” she said. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Not today, dear. Another time. Mama is busy today.”

“We’re going to sleep there all night,” Bobbie told her. “Won’t you be afraid here all alone, with the Bristcombes gone?”

“I won’t be all alone. Nell and Olive are here.”

“What if the pixies come?” the child asked her.

“Your mama is not afraid of pixies,” Max told her, with a seething look at the stepmama.

Miss Milne came downstairs with a small bag in her hands. The three who were leaving made their adieux and departed. Delsie had to use every drop of her self-control not to dash out the door after them.

Delsie looked forward to the day, and of course the night, with utter dread, but decided the best cure was work. There was plenty of it to be done at the Cottage. She got the girts from the Hall together and went with them to the kitchen to see what dirt and confusion the Bristcombes had left behind them. It was worse than her gravest fears. The place was covered in several years’ accumulation of grime-the sort that had to be scraped away. She was revolted to think her food and that of Roberta had been prepared in this room.

They began with the cupboards, washing the walls and shelves and emptying every pot and bottle in the place, many of which were covered in green mold, holding some anomalous congealed mass of food whose original state was beyond imagining or detecting from the odor. The widow first took a supervisory role, but as the morning wore on and she was undisturbed by any creditors come to dun her, she rolled up her sleeves and joined the girls in the Herculean task of bringing order to her kitchen.

Finding their temporary mistress congenial, the girls did not hesitate to chatter and gossip together, and after an hour they were directing several friendly remarks to Mrs. Grayshott as well. They began by a comparison to how the kitchens at the Hall were kept-all was above reproach, and almost above their most exalted praise from what the mistress could gather. The words “his lordship” were introduced freely, and though Delsie realized full well she ought not to gossip, she kept her ears open and allowed the servants to do so. The girls’ conversation with herself was of an unexceptionable sort-about the Cottage, her plans for it, and also about the school. Nell had a brother there whose progress could be reported on.

“He doesn’t like Mr. Perkins half as much as he liked you,” Nell told her, “though he says he’s better than Mr. Umpton.”

At one o’clock, Delsie went to wash up for lunch, a tray with cold meat and bread in the study, and as she was finishing this, her knocker sounded. Expecting a creditor, she put on her most dignified expression, which rapidly changed to a smile of infinite relief when it was Lady Jane who stood at the door.

“I’m a ninnyhammer!” the dame declared. “Knocking at your door, when I know perfectly well the Bristcombes have left. I ought to have just walked in. I am all agog to hear about it, my dear,” she continued, stepping in. “DeVigne has been with me this hour and is in the boughs that you won’t leave. When did they shab off on you?”

“This morning.”

“Good riddance. I am happy to see the back of that slovenly pair. And where the deuce can they be hiding the brandy? Vanished, Max says. Bah-it cannot be invisible, and we must find it.”

“You are welcome to try your hand, milady. I have been over the orchard and vicinity with a fine-tooth comb, and cannot find a trace of it. I even looked up in the branches to see if they were possibly hiding it up there, but they aren’t.”

“We’ll be on the lookout when they come to take it away. Very proper of you to insist upon staying here, though you cannot stay alone, of course. I mean to come to bear you company, and bring a brace of good stout footmen with me.”

These words were music to the widow’s ears. Somehow, it seemed impossible that harm would come to her with Lady Jane standing imperiously at her side. She was also happy for moral support from such a worthy source. DeVigne could not think her the fool she was beginning to feel herself, when Lady Jane supported her.

The day she so dreaded in anticipation soon took on the merry glow of a party. Lady Jane hiked up her skirts and went over the orchard inch by inch, even sniffing the ground and declaring at intervals that she could smell the stuff, but demmed if she could see a trace of it. She refused to leave even to pack her bag for the night. She sent Nell over to the Dower House with instructions to have her woman pack her bag and come herself to add to the reinforcements. The footmen came, bearing ancient guns from Sir Harold’s gun cupboard, antiques actually, but in working order. The meals served were in the nature of a snack, but were enjoyed heartily. As darkness settled in, the two ladies took up a seat in the saloon and had a blazing fire lit to dissipate the cold and gloom from that room. With a decanter of sherry between them and a dozen candles burning brightly, it seemed impossible that danger lurked anywhere nearby, and they both remained in high spirits.

“I am surprised that no creditors have come to pester me,” Delsie mentioned. “Andrew cannot have drawn a single penny from the annual income, for it is still in the bank. I was sure he would have staggering bills throughout the village.”

“He must have paid cash from his smuggling money,” Jane opined. “So much the better for you. You’ll have need of the whole of it to spruce this house up. New draperies are wanted in here, and Max tells me the place has been stripped of linen. That is the sort of low cunning I despise. One expects the servants to drink up the wine and run out the back door with a leg of mutton occasionally, but when they take to stripping the beds, it has gone too far. We’ll count the silver tomorrow. Not that it will do any good. I have no idea what Louise had, and doubt if Max has either.”

“Still, I’ll take an inventory so that I can keep check from now on.”

“A very good idea. And the knickknacks too. Louise had a nice collection of vases and ornamental pottery- statuettes and things. Just the sort of thing that is easily lifted and carried off without being missed. I wonder how soon we might expect the smugglers to come.”

“They usually come late, about twelve-thirty or one.”