“Terence,” I said urgently. “What day is it?”

“What does it matter?” Terence said. “ ‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, lighting fools the way to dusty death.’ Fools!”

“This is important,” I said, yanking him to his feet. “The date, man!”

“Monday,” he said. “The eighteenth of June.”

Oh, Lord, we’d been gone three days!

I took off for the house, Cyril at my heels.

“ ‘ “The curse has come upon us,” ’ ” Terence quoted, “ ‘cried the Lady of Shalott.’ ”

I could hear Mrs. Mering before we were in the front door. “Your behavior has truly been inexcusable, Verity. I should not have expected my cousin’s daughter to have been so selfish and thoughtless.”

She knew we’d been gone three days, and poor Verity didn’t. I skidded down the corridor toward the parlor, Cyril hot on my heels. I had to tell her before she said anything.

“I had all the care of the patient,” Mrs. Mering said. “I’m utterly exhausted. Three days and nights in that sickroom, and not so much as a moment to rest.”

I had my hand on the doorknob. I stopped. Three days and three nights in a sickroom? Then she might not know after all, she was only chastising Verity for not helping. But who was ill? Tossie? She had looked wan and pale that night after Coventry.

I put my ear to the door and listened, hoping the eavesdroppees would be more informative than they usually were.

“You might at least have offered to sit with the patient for a few minutes,” Mrs. Mering said.

“I am so sorry, Aunt,” Verity said. “I thought you would be afraid of infection.”

Why can’t people say who and what they are talking about so the eavesdropper has a chance? I thought. The patient. Infection. Be more specific.

“And I thought she would insist on you and Tossie nursing him,” Verity said.

Him? Had Mr. C shown up and promptly fallen ill? And fallen in love with his nurse Tossie?

“I would not dream of allowing Tocelyn in the sickroom,” Mrs. Mering said. “She is such a delicate girl.”

Down the corridor I saw Terence open the front door. I was going to have to go in, information or no. I looked down at Cyril. Mrs. Mering would no doubt demand to know what he was doing in the house. Then again, that might be a welcome diversion under the circumstances.

“Tocelyn has far too delicate a constitution for nursing,” Mrs. Mering was saying, “and the sight of her poor father ill would be much too upsetting for her.”

Her poor father. Then it was Colonel Mering who’d been ill. But then what was he doing heading down to the fishpond?

I opened the door.

“I thought you might show more concern for your poor uncle, Verity,” Mrs. Mering said. “I am dreadfully disappointed in—”

“Good morning,” I said.

Verity looked gratefully at me.

“And how is Colonel Mering this morning?” I said. “I trust he is feeling better. I saw him outside just now.”

“Outside?” Mrs. Mering said, clutching at her bosom. “He was told not to come down this morning. He will catch his death. Mr. St. Trewes,” she said to Terence, who had just come in and was standing, looking hangdog, by the parlor door. “Is it true? Has my husband gone outside? You must go and fetch him at once.”

Terence turned obediently to go.

“Where is Tossie?” Mrs. Mering said petulantly. “Why isn’t she down yet? Verity, tell Jane to fetch her.”

Terence reappeared, with the Colonel and Jane behind him.

“Mesiel!” Mrs. Mering cried. “What did you mean by going outside? You have been deathly ill.”

“Had to get out to the fishpond,” the Colonel said, harrumphing. “Check on things. Can’t just leave my Japanese demekins out there with that cat about. Stopped on my way out by that silly girl — can never remember her name — the maid—”

“Colleen,” Verity said automatically.

“Jane.” Mrs. Mering glared at Verity.

“Told me I had to come in here immediately,” Colonel Mering said. “Made a huge fuss. What’s it all about?”

He turned to Jane, who swallowed, took a deep, sobbing breath, and stuck out a letter on a silver salver.

“Harrumph, what’s this?” the Colonel said.

“The mail, sorr,” Jane said.

“Why didn’t Baine bring it?” Mrs. Mering demanded. She took the letter off the salver. “No doubt it is from Madame Iritosky,” she said, opening it, “explaining why she had to leave so suddenly.” She turned to Jane. “Tell Mr. Baine to come here. And tell Tossie to come down. She will want to hear this letter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane said, and fled.

“I do hope she has enclosed her address,” Mrs. Mering said, unfolding several closely written pages, “so that I can write and tell her of our experience with the spirits at Coventry.” She frowned. “Why, it is not from Madame—” she stopped, reading the letter silently.

“Who is the letter from, my dear?” the Colonel said.

“O,” Mrs. Mering said, and fainted dead away.

It was a real faint this time. Mrs. Mering crashed into the credenza, decapitated the potted palm, broke the glass dome over the feather arrangement, and ended up with her head on the velvet footstool. The pages of the letter fluttered down around her.

Terence and I dived for her. “Baine!” the Colonel thundered, yanking on the bellpull. “Baine!” Verity stuck a cushion under her head and began fanning her with the letter.

“Baine!” the Colonel bellowed.

Jane appeared in the door, looking terrified.

“Tell Baine to come here immediately,” he shouted.

“I can’t, sorr,” she said, twisting her apron.

“Why not?” he bellowed.

She cringed away from him. “He’s gone, sir.”

“What do you mean, gone?” the Colonel demanded. “Gone where?”

She’d twisted her apron completely into a knot. “The letter,” she said, wringing the ends of it.

“What do you mean, that he’s gone to the postal office? Well, go and fetch him.” He waved her out of the room. “Damn Madame Iritosky! Upsetting my wife even when she isn’t here! Damned spiritist nonsense!”

“Our daughter,” Mrs. Mering said, her eyelids fluttering. She focused on the letter Verity was fanning her with. “O, the letter! The fated letter…” and went out again.

Jane ran in with the smelling salts.

“Where’s Baine?” Colonel Mering thundered. “Didn’t you fetch him? And go tell Tossie to come down immediately. Her mother needs her.”

Jane sat down on the gilt chair, flung her apron over her head, and began to bawl.

“Here, here, what’s this?” Colonel Mering harrumphed. “Get up, girl.”

“Verity,” Mrs. Mering said, clutching weakly at Verity’s arm. “The letter. Read it. I cannot bear—”

Verity obediently stopped fanning and held the letter up. “ ‘Dearest Papa and Darling Mumsy,’ ” she said, and looked like she was going to faint.

I started toward her, and she shook her head wordlessly at me and read on. “ ‘Dearest Papa and Darling Mumsy, By the time you read this I shall be a married woman.’ ”

“Married?” Colonel Mering said. “What does she mean, married?”

“ ‘. . . and I shall be happier than I have ever been or ever thought of being,’ ” Verity read on. “ ‘I am very sorry to have deceived you in this way, especially Papa, who is ill, but I feared if you knew of our intentions, you would forbid my marrying, and I know that when you come to know dear Baine as I do,’ ” Verity’s voice caught, and then she went on, pale as death, “ ‘as I do, you will see him not as a servant but as the dearest, kindest, best man in the world, and will forgive us both.’ ”

“Baine?” Colonel Mering said blankly.

“Baine,” Verity breathed. She let the letter fall to her lap and looked up desperately at me, shaking her head. “No. She can’t have.”

“She’s eloped with the butler?” Terence said.

“Oh, Mr. St. Trewes, my poor boy!” Mrs. Mering cried, clutching her bosom. “Are you quite destroyed?”