Page 59 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
Chapter Twenty-One
Snowy arrived atMargaret’s with three new additions to the household, a woman and two men, whom he introduced to Margaret and Pauline as guards from an agency called Moriarty Protection.
A female guard! It was an intriguing idea. Margaret would have picked Miss Trent as a gentlewoman who had been forced into employment by ill fortune, but not as a skilled fighter, both with and without weapons.
“With your permission,” Snowy said, “Miss Trent and her colleague, Mrs. O’Brian, will take it in turns to stay here and accompany you on all of your outings, Margaret.”
The two men were part of a team of six, who would guard the house and Snowy in pairs. Snowy was taking the danger very seriously. Would Snowden really make an attempt on Margaret’s life?
Margaret had believed Snowy when he said Snowden had given the order for Snowy’s death, not once but several times, including when Snowy was only a small child. Believed, that is, as she believed a story.
Even after nursing Ned, she had still not truly believed that she was in danger.
Only at this moment, as she met the people who were prepared to put their skills between her and death, did the reality truly sink in. Yes. If he thought she might carry a successor to Snowy’s claim on the viscountcy, Snowden really would try to kill her.
“May I have your permission to introduce Miss Trent, Charlie, and Frank to Bowen,” Snowy asked Margaret, “and ask Bowen to give them a tour of the house? Then perhaps you and I could catch up on what else I have done today.”
While Snowy took the guards to her butler, Margaret spoke to her housekeeper about setting up two rooms, one for Miss Trent and Mrs. O’Brian, and one for whichever of the men were on duty.
They had settled in the drawing room with a cup of tea, and Snowy was telling Margaret and Pauline about his visit to Wakefield and to Moriarty Protection, when Miss Trent knocked on the door and entered, in company with the housekeeper.
“If you will excuse me, my lady,” she said. “I have a suggestion to make regarding bedrooms.”
“Of course,” Margaret said. “If the ones you have been allocated are not adequate…” She trailed off as Miss Trent shook her head and held up a hand.
“Not ours, my lady. It is your rooms, and particularly those of Lord Snowden and Mr. Rahat that we would like to discuss.”
Margaret exchanged a glance with Snowy, thinking he might like to take the lead, but he gestured to pass the question to her. “It is your house, my lady,” he said.
“Carry on,” Margaret told Miss Trent.
Miss Trent gave a brisk nod. “Your rooms are at the end of the passage, where any intruder cannot reach you except by coming up one of the flights of stairs. In either case, they will need to traverse some of the passage. If they come up the main stairs, they will need to pass all the other bedrooms before they get to yours. That makes your room easy to guard. Miss Turner’s room is near yours, so no problem, there.”
She turned to look at Snowy. “However, Lord Snowden and Mr. Rahat are on the next floor, which means we would need to split forces to guard both floors. I asked Mrs. Markham to move them to the same floor as you, and she said it was not seemly.” Miss Trent’s nostrils flared. “Death is not seemly.”
Mrs. Markham, the housekeeper, broke into a spate of words. “I would not wish my lady to be in any danger, but I am sure the situation cannot be serious enough to throw all propriety out the window. Unmarried gentlemen on the same floor as unmarried ladies? I have never heard the like. Miss Denning would not have permitted it; you can be sure of that.”
“You may be sure that the danger is certain,” Snowy told her.
“Because of you,” Mrs. Markham spat at him. “Lady Charmain has never set a foot wrong except the once, and there is Lord Hungerford-Fox back to put that wrong right. But you turn up and cozen her into sending poor Miss Denning away, and Lord Hungerford-Fox too. And claiming to be a viscount when you’re nothing but a base-born brat from the alleys of Covent Garden. It is wicked. That is what it is. And now you bring—”
“That is quite enough,” Margaret said, sternly. “Lord Snowden, I apologize. I am deeply mortified to have a guest so insulted by one of my servants! Mrs. Markham, you will pack your bags. You are dismissed.”
Mrs. Markham gaped, then began complaining. “Here. You can’t throw me out in the street. I’ve worked for the Charmains since I was a tweeny. Miss Denning wouldn’t—”
“Who has paid your wages these past three years, Mrs. Markham?” Snowy asked, his voice calm and quiet. Just as well, for the repeated reference to her aunt had Margaret ready to shout.
Mrs. Markham stopped in mid-rant and narrowed her eyes at him. “I have worked for the Charmain family woman and girl this past forty years,” she said.
“The current holder of the title pays your wages,” Snowy said firmly. “In this case, the Countess Charmain. Who no longer trusts you to follow her orders. I wonder, Mrs. Markham, who has been feeding you with tales about your mistress and what you have told that person?”
He turned to Margaret. “I would like to send for Wakefield, Margaret, if that is acceptable to you.”
Margaret felt slightly ill. How many of her servants were untrustworthy? She nodded. “Pauline, will you fetch Bowen, please?”
He must have been waiting outside the door, for he came immediately, and Frank came with him. Margaret nodded to Snowy, who took charge again. “Please escort Mrs. Markham to her room and lock her in. She has been dismissed but will not be permitted to leave until she has been questioned.”
Bowen swallowed but bowed. “Certainly, my lady.” The two men marched Mrs. Markham away.
