miss. His valet says that the earl has a theory that Napoleon did not die of a stomach ailment but was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Cecilia said, incredulous.
“I am going to ask him about it.” Beatrice was intrigued. “Lord Belmont is a fascinating man.”
When she caught the speculative look in Darwell’s eyes, she added, “Though being old and poor makes him less than appealing for anything more than the most ladylike flirtation.”
That made Cecilia laugh, and even Darwell’s lips twitched in a half smile.
“Bitsy, what in the world is a ‘ladylike flirtation’?”
Beatrice thought it over. “When one makes it perfectly clear that one is enjoying a gentleman’s company.”
“But that’s the way one should treat every gentleman. Is that not right, Darwell?”
Their maid considered the question carefully. “Not always. There are some gentlemen it is wise to avoid altogether.”
Beatrice frowned. “Like Lord Jessup Pennistan?”
Darwell’s expression changed from thoughtfulness to one that hinted at deeply repressed anger. “Not Lord Jessup, miss. He is one of the finest gentlemen in the world. Let no one ever convince you otherwise. I know it. I have seen his goodness.”
The two waited for Darwell to go on. Cecilia’s eyes were wide with surprise at the maid’s vehemence as much as her words. Beatrice began to ask for details but Darwell raised her hand holding the brush.
“I will say no more. When I am no longer in service to you, you will both appreciate the fact that I am not a gossip.” She lowered the brush and inspected Cecilia. “Your hair is finished, miss. Now go to bed. I will clean the brushes, put your clothes away, and see you in the morning. Your riding habits will be out and ready before breakfast, which will be served beginning at nine o’clock.”
When she left the room Cecilia and Beatrice looked at each other. What was that about, do you think? Cecilia asked, her eyes narrowed in speculation.
I have no idea, Beatrice thought, even as she tried to guess.
Bitsy, I am not even sure I want to know.
Beatrice widened her eyes. I do. I truly do.
Finally Cecilia spoke aloud. “Just be careful who you choose to ask about it.”
Beatrice nodded.
“You know, Bitsy, it’s an inconvenient blessing that she doesn’t gossip. For we are much too open around her.”
“But I will find someone who’s willing to tell me everything they know,” Beatrice said.
“Of course,” Cecilia agreed.
“Not the countess. She is too close to Papa and, besides, she would wonder at our curiosity about a man Papa has ordered us to avoid.”
Each climbed into her own small but elegantly canopied bed.
“Did you have the servants move the beds closer together?” Beatrice asked.
“Yes, it was only a matter of moving the table that was between the beds. This way we can whisper as long into the night as we wish without waking Darwell.”
“Wonderful,” Beatrice replied. “But Darwell is our maid, not our governess.”
“I know, Bitsy, but I can’t help but feel that she would report to Papa, or at least the countess, if we did anything of which she did not approve.”
“I think you may be right.” They were both silent a moment, Beatrice listening for Darwell. “Can you hear her?” she whispered.
“No,” Ceci whispered back. “I do think she has gone to bed.”
Beatrice nodded and hurried on in a hushed tone. “Who can we ask? Katherine Wilson might have overheard her mother and her friends discussing the matter.”
Ceci’s nod lacked conviction.
“Ceci, you know how Mama loved to share tea and news with her friends. That’s how we found out about any number of things she would just as soon have kept from us.”
“I am sure Katherine has had the same experience,” Cecilia agreed, “but I am much less sure she would share anything with us.”
Beatrice thought Cecilia might be right. Katherine Wilson was trying so hard, too hard, to be perfectly well behaved. She and Cecilia had that in common. Still, their new friendship might make it possible for them to share confidences.
“Mrs. Kendrick. She would be one to tell all she knows, and welcome all we know.” Though Beatrice wondered what they could possibly have to share that was likely to be as intriguing as Lord Jess’s story.
Ceci responded with a low “hmmm” and Beatrice was sure her sister had not heard a word.
Sighing softly to herself, she turned on her side, wound her leg around the bed linens as she was wont to do, and followed her sister’s example. It took her several moments to relax. She was distracted by the memory