despite her grooming. “We will dust under the sofa,” she told her. “We are just getting organized, you know. We’ll find you a soft spot of your own. Oh… I do hope Mrs. Trask likes cats.”
Callie stared.
“I’m doing my best. It’s been… rather difficult.”
Callie turned her head slowly, as if scanning the room with disdain. She stepped closer to the sofa and inserted a delicate claw into the upholstery.
“No! You will not shred the furniture, shabby as it may be.”
The cat looked at her again, and kept looking as she deliberately raked the cloth. It was so old it tore easily.
“Callie!”
The cat’s yellow gaze seemed to say, “I can do as I please. I shall do as I please.”
Instead of anger, Charlotte felt a sudden lift of expansion. She could do what she liked in this house now. Henry’s despicable will had said nothing whatsoever about the upper floors. “This room would work better for dining,” she said aloud. It was smaller than the one that now held a table. It made sense to reverse them, and she could do that. She could do what she wanted with the space that was left to her. She stood in one quick rush. She was going to go through every room and examine every item and keep only those she liked. The rest would be thrown out or relegated to the attics, starting with those mawkish figurines on the mantelshelf. There might even be a bit of money for new curtains, if she was very careful.
“People will claim I need a chaperone.”
Callie, sniffing along the baseboard, ignored her.
Exactly; she would ignore them. “For what? To fight off hordes of suitors besieging a penniless widow?” The idea was ridiculous. “I’m damned if I’ll have one,” she said. She’d never sworn in her life, and knew very well how shocked people would be to hear the phrase on her lips. “I’m damned if I will,” she added.
Callie clawed at the molding. There probably were mice.
“You have my permission to kill any rodent you encounter,” she said. Then she looked, and was relieved to discover that Lizzy had left the hamper. “Here, kitty.”
Thirteen
Mrs. Wright walked into Alec’s study without knocking, and wringing her hands—bad signs. Alec had braced himself even before the housekeeper said, “Miss Anne and Miss Lizzy are gone.”
“What? What do you mean, gone?”
“They’re not in the house, and none of the staff know where they are.” Mrs. Wright sounded braced for an explosion.
Alec was already halfway to the door. “Their maid…”
“Susan has not seen them since early morning. Everyone thought they were in the schoolroom together.”
It was nearly eleven. Alec pushed down panic. “Perhaps they’ve gone for a walk in the park or…” But he knew as well as Mrs. Wright that they were forbidden to go out without informing someone, and their maid or a footman went with them.
He should have hired another governess for Lizzy; he knew that. It had just begun to feel futile. “Gather the household.” He would organize a search—of the neighborhood, of the whole of London, if it came to that.
All the servants lined up in the front hall. “Where is Frances?” Alec wondered when everyone had gathered.
“She went out,” Ethan informed him.
“Out where?”
“She didn’t say, sir.”
“Splendid.” Alec started dividing the servants into pairs to be sent into the streets. He had just finished when a key turned in the lock and Anne and Lizzy walked in the front door. Frances was close behind them. They all stopped on the threshold, startled. “Where have you been?” Alec shouted.
Anne blinked; Lizzy’s chin came up in an all-too-familiar way, presaging a storm about to break. Alec struggled with a choking mix of relief and fury. He’d provided enough of a spectacle for one day. Calm, he told himself; control and reason. “Thank you, everyone,” he managed. “Obviously, they are home safe.”
He herded them into the study and shut the door on the sea of eyes. “Would someone care to give me an explanation?”
“I went to find them,” offered Frances unhelpfully.
“Find them. Where were they?” He looked from Anne to Lizzy, resisting the impulse to shout. “And what possible excuse do you have for telling no one that you were going out?”
“We went to see Charlotte,” declared Lizzy. “And we didn’t tell you because you have been so horridly grumpy.”
“We knew you… quarreled about something,” Anne added.
“And we were not going to be stopped,” Lizzy finished.
Frances merely stood there, observing him as if he were an interesting stranger.