Storing Up Trouble, стр. 97
Edgar nodded. “It was a horrible illness, Mr. Parsons, but didn’t last long.” He sent a fond look after Gladys, who was already disappearing down a hallway. “Gladys watched over me like a hawk and even insisted on staying with me while Miss Beatrix returned here.”
“Which I would think must have convinced you it’s past time you . . . well, I’ll leave it to you to figure out what you should do from here,” Mr. Parsons said before he turned and smiled at Mamie and Blanche, both of whom were looking more than a little apprehensive. “Who do we have here?”
Edgar performed the introductions, his lips twitching when Blanche and Mamie curtsied to Mr. Parsons, a man who was clearly the Waterbury butler, before they hurried into the house.
“This is Miss Theodosia Robinson, a dear friend of this gentleman here,” Edgar said next.
Mr. Parsons arched a brow at Norman. “And who is this gentleman?”
“That’s Norman Nesbit.”
“You may wait out here” was how Mr. Parsons replied to that, sending Norman a glare before he gestured Theo and Edgar into the house and firmly shut the door behind them.
Chapter 36
“Can’t tell you how glad I am you’ve returned to New York,” Murray Middleton said, galloping easily beside Beatrix on his horse, Wilbur, a delightful creature that her friend Poppy Garrison Blackburn had saved from a neglectful and abusive deliveryman. “What with Poppy and Reginald out of town and Maisie constantly rearranging the furniture in our new house, I’ve found myself at loose ends of late.”
Beatrix wrinkled her nose. “I would think Maisie would want you to help her rearrange the furniture, what with how you seem to have an eye for matters like that.”
“And normally she does. However . . .” Murray grinned. “She’s in a somewhat delicate frame of mind at the moment, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. I tend to hover when she cries, and apparently when a lady is, well, expecting, they’re prone to dislike hovering husbands. Something to do with us having gotten them in that condition in the first place.”
“Information I did not need to—wait.” She smiled. “You’re going to be a father?”
“Indeed, but the idea of fatherhood scares me half to death.” He frowned. “What if I’m a horrible father, or what if we have a daughter and she decides to run off with some bounder Maisie and I don’t approve of, and—”
“You’ll be an excellent father, Murray, and I imagine if your daughter ran off with a bounder, you’d go after her and take care of it once and for all.”
“I have grown more proficient with a pistol.”
“I would imagine you have. See? Nothing to worry about.”
“Practical advice for sure, and I have certainly missed that from you while you’ve been away.”
“Since I doubt I’ll be leaving the city again anytime soon, you may avail yourself of my practicality anytime you feel you need it.”
Murray smiled before he sobered. “I’m sorry about all that business with that Norman fellow. Seems to me as if you’d grown fond of the man.”
“I was fond of him, but I don’t care to discuss Norman any further. Once I clear my father’s name, I’ll be done with Norman for good, and that will be that.”
“You said your father hired the Pinkerton Agency to look into the matter.”
“He has, and I’ve told the agent who came to the house all I knew about the men who’d been trying to steal Norman’s research. And while I’m sure the Pinkerton Agency is more than up for investigating the situation, I’m currently feeling at loose ends. That is why I’ve decided to help by finding all the men who attended that meeting with Norman a few months back and interrogating them.”
“A frightening thought to be sure, but speaking of frightening, do you think your parents might be growing tired of exploring their artistic natures?”
“You haven’t gotten accustomed to their . . . ?”
“Unexpected gestures of fondness they’re constantly giving each other?” Murray finished for her.
Beatrix grinned. “That’s an interesting way of phrasing it, but yes.”
“While I readily admit that there’s something delightful about seeing a couple who’ve been married as long as your parents have still so obviously in love, it does take me aback when I happen to walk in on them and find them kissing or staring into each other’s eyes.”
“Rest assured, they never linger long with any new diversion, so by spring at the latest, I imagine they’ll give up art and take on something else.” She grinned. “Mother’s been talking about learning how to box, so unless you’ve begun giving boxing instructions, you’ll be safe.”
“Good to know,” Murray returned before he glanced past Beatrix and blinked. “On my word, that poor man should not be riding such a beast, what with how he doesn’t seem comfortable in the saddle, but he’s heading this way and . . . I think he’s in trouble.”
Beatrix turned in the saddle, discovering as she did so a man galloping her way, holding on to his horse for dear life, his hat long gone.
“Norman!” she yelled right as he thundered past her.
“Can’t talk now, Beatrix,” she heard him reply. “Got a bit of a situation here.”
“He’s lost all control!” Theodosia exclaimed, galloping into view and dashing past her.
Beatrix kneed her horse into motion, bending as low as she could over the sidesaddle. She then urged her horse faster when she saw Norman’s horse, one of her father’s high-spirited stallions by the name of Lightning—a horse Norman had no business attempting to ride—head for a row of hedges that was at least five feet high.
Two feet away from the shrubbery, Lightning came to an abrupt stop, and then Norman went sailing through the air and disappeared over the hedges.
While her horse, Tory, was perfectly capable of leaping the hedge, Beatrix had no idea where Norman had