Chapter 11

C larissa gathered with the Baxters and Lord and Lady Helmsley in the sitting room of Mr. and Mrs. Baxter’s suite.

After Clarissa related what she had observed from her vantage point at the orangery, as well as what she had found on the roof, she said, “I think it is reasonable to conclude that whatever threat you faced in London, it has followed you here. We must take precautions.”

“I think we should leave,” Mrs. Baxter said.

“To what end?” her husband replied, pushing up from the sofa in frustration. He stalked across the room and leaned a hand on the mantelpiece. “If they’ve followed us here, what’s to stop them from following us again?”

“Perhaps if you were to depart in the dead of night—” Lady Helmsley began.

“In this weather, we’ll be just as likely to slide off the road to our death.” Mr. Baxter curled his hand into a fist. “Where will we be safer than inside a castle?”

Clarissa considered. There were risks to both approaches, but the castle did have certain advantages. “Perhaps if you were to feign being sick and confine yourselves to your rooms. We could have the room guarded under the guise of a footman posted in the corridor to wait on you and make sure that only the most trusted servants have access to your food—”

Mr. Baxter wheeled around. “And if we do, the threat will simply follow us when we leave. Are we to be forever hounded, never able to relax in our own home?”

“What would you suggest?” Clarissa asked tightly.

“Draw them out,” Mr. Baxter said. “This so-called assassin seems to be a bumbling sort of fellow. None of his attempts have worked thus far. The risk is surely not so great, and with you on the case, Miss Weatherby”—he said this with a mocking sort of deference—“I am sure their identity will soon be discovered.”

Lady Helmsley went to sit beside her niece. “I don’t like it. That rock almost struck Rosalind! If you want to parade about in hopes that they will make a mistake, that is your prerogative. But I will brook no threat to my niece.”

Clarissa knelt so she was at eye level with Mrs. Baxter. “What would you prefer?”

She met Clarissa’s eyes as hesitantly as a startled fawn. “I think it is a good suggestion. To feign illness. I would prefer that we both do it. But if Oliver is not willing to keep to our rooms, I will do so myself.”

“Very well.” Clarissa rose to her feet. “I will continue to investigate. And I know that my contact at the Home Office is sending additional officers to assist in your protection, sir. One of his very best agents is already en route.”

Mr. Baxter brightened visibly. “That is good news! Let us see if this new agent can effect any developments in the investigation.”

Clarissa had half a mind to throw the little porcelain sculpture of a shepherdess adorning the end table at his head. As if she had not proven her mettle that very morning by saving his worthless hide!

Lord Helmsley cleared his throat. “One of the other guests saw the stone fall. Mr. Rupert Dupree happened to be looking out the window at the gardens. He was very concerned and even followed Miss Weatherby onto the roof.”

Clarissa nodded. Gossip about the falling stone would no doubt spread through the house party guests like wildfire. “We will, therefore, need an explanation for the other guests. I think we should maintain the story we discussed on the roof—that the mason was doing some repairs and left a stone stacked precariously close to the edge.”

Lord Helmsley nodded. “Rupert did seem to buy that explanation.”

Mr. Baxter snorted. “Rupert Dupree would buy any explanation. Fairies. Unicorns. A tiny earthquake that affected only the roof.”

Clarissa frowned. While Mr. Baxter was not wrong that Rupert wasn’t what you would call an intellectual, she disliked hearing him mocked in this manner. Even Clarissa, who had good reason to hate him, had to admit that Rupert Dupree had a number of fine qualities.

Meanwhile, for all that Oliver Baxter was an ardent supporter of some of Clarissa’s most cherished political causes, she found him condescending and short-tempered, especially toward his wife. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but she quite preferred Rupert.

But it wouldn’t do to insult the person she was charged with protecting. “We have our plan.” Clarissa curtseyed to Lady Helmsley. “If you will excuse me, there is much to be done.”

As she made her way downstairs, Clarissa found herself hoping that the outstanding agent Sir Henry had dispatched would arrive soon. She was no longer wondering if she was in over her head; she knew she was, without question.