hurt anyone," she said grimly, as a roll of thunder sounded outside. Nora was in Mrs Mifford's bad books as she had been asleep when Mary had returned from the assembly and had not been able to vouch for her whereabouts on the night of Mr Parsims' murder. She had also refused, despite some very unsubtle hinting on Mrs Mifford's part, to lie on Mary's behalf. There had been much muttering about treason ever since, despite Mary and Jane pointing out to their mama that asking Nora to lie might add to the weight of suspicion on Mary.
Nora was thusly dispatched to Northcott Manor, with a note from Mary explaining things, leaving Mrs Mifford to badger her daughters into preparing for the duke's arrival.
"And where is your father?" she huffed, as Eudora appeared, wearing a pair of spectacles which did not belong to her.
"Mr Waverly called, seeking father's advice on a spiritual matter," Eudora offered, blinking owlishly from behind her lenses.
"So, is he in the library ministering to him?" Mrs Mifford prompted.
"Gemini, no. He took off through the back-door and bid me tell Mr Waverly that he was out," Eudora replied mildly, unsurprised by her father's response. Mr Mifford was an adequate vicar, performing his duties as needed, but his personality was such that he could not feign an interest in the needier of his flock, including Mr Waverly, who liked to consult with Mr Mifford before making even the most minute decisions.
"Who can blame him," Mrs Mifford rolled her eyes, equally as impatient as her husband, "Mr Waverly can barely tie a knot without asking your father if he approves. Eudora, go find him and tell him he must put on a clean shirt. Jane and Mary, you will have to change into your best dresses. Honestly, Jane, look at the hem of your skirt. Someone tell Nora to go straighten the parlour room--"
"She's on her way to Northcott Manor," Mary reminded her mother.
"Typical of her to go missing when she's most needed," Mrs Mifford huffed, irrationally, "Someone go find Emily and tell her to straighten the parlour. Mary, go find your father. Eudora, put on your best dress. Jane! Why are you just standing there, did I not tell you to find Nora and tell her to change her shirt?"
Mary, recognising that her mother was on the verge of exploding, hastily took her leave. She changed into a day dress of cambric muslin, richly finished around the hem with lace, and overlaid by a layer of jaconet. She dressed her hair carefully, trying to make it look as though it had not been dressed at all--an arduous task--then returned downstairs.
The parlour room was spotlessly clean, as were its three occupants, who all wore looks of irritation along with their best gowns.
"When you and Northcott are finished investigating Mr Parsims murder, I shall oblige you with another one to solve," Jane whispered, as Mary sat down beside her on the chaise longue.
Thankfully, the Hargreaves arrived a few moments later, negating any opportunity for Jane to carry out her planned matricide.
Mary heard her mother open the door to the couple and usher them inside.
"What a complete surprise," Mrs Mifford trilled, as she led the pair into the parlour.
"Well, you did leave a note asking us to call," Mr Hargreaves answered in confusion.
"Quite," Mrs Mifford pouted as her feigned nonchalance was called into question, "Tea?"
Eudora was dispatched to the kitchen to make tea in Nora's absence, and as she returned with a tray laden with china cups and saucers, a sharp knock came upon the door, this time answered by Mr Mifford, who had just made his way downstairs after changing his shirt.
"That will be the duke," Mrs Mifford offered casually to the Hargreaves, as though it was a sentence she uttered regularly.
Mr Mifford entered the parlour, followed by Northcott, and Mary felt a twinge of something deep within her stomach. It was strange to see him in such familiar surroundings; he seemed larger and more broad as he stood amongst the chintz and stuffing of the parlour room, his shoulders damp with raindrops.
Introductions were made and, mercifully, Northcott then took command of the gathering before Mrs Mifford had a chance to suggest that Mary play on the pianoforte.
"Miss Mifford has led me to believe that you might have been acquainted with the recently departed Mr Parsims?" Northcott began, addressing Mr Hargreaves.
"Indeed, we were," Mr Hargreaves made a face, the type of face one makes when they have smelled something particularly