The Girl Who Came to Bedlaam

VIII. A Little News

"It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Malstoyke," the young man pronounced, offering a modest bow.

Richard Dayne was indeed something to behold! A man straight out of a story book, be he some dashing rogue, knight, prince or great king, and I grudgingly had to agree with Marge Finnicktoff. Mr. Richard Dayne was a disturbingly gorgeous specimen.

"The pleasure is mine to be sure, Sir," I sensibly replied, grateful to have recovered my voice.

"And of course," he said, turning to the old gentleman who still watched me in his quiet way, "you must be familiar with my father."

He gave me a polite smile.

"Well for once rumours have proven true," he said at last. "You are fairer than they give you credit for, my dear."

To this, Ms. Cotts nodded with what was supposed to be a smile. Feminine giggles floated into the room, as the girls were all crowded in the hall, each one peeping her head in every now and then.

All I could do was blush.

"She is good gold, sir," came Cotts' flat toned praise. "With a kind heart and good nature, and a favourite with all the girls."

I stared incredulously at her. For Cotts to say such kind words in my presence was...alarming. She intimidated me even in daylight.

What in Gordorf's name is happening here?

She waved me to a chair.

"Come, Miss Malstoyke and have some tea. Prue is bringing a fresh pot."

Prue entered, looking, I'm glad to say, very sober and cheerful. She even looked quite handsome in her purple dress and polished shoes. Setting down the tray and bobbing a curtsy to the men, she said to me with unusual shyness,

"Careful now, Miss, it's fetchingly hot, Ms. Laggsby says. We don't want you to get scalded."

I thanked her warmly and she, looking mighty pleased at having remembered her message, left us in good spirits.

"Allow me," said Mr. Dayne as I was about to pour.

There was an expertise in his pouring and serving that left little to be desired. He must have been used to waiting on women, I decided after a moment's thought. This was peculiar since there weren't any women in the Dayne family—he hadn't a mother or sisters. Cousins perhaps, and also he could have been properly trained in etiquette since the family was not known to spare on anything that would enhance appearances in society—even the elder Mr. Dayne was known to be a charming flirt in his younger years. And what was more, few can say they'd ever actually seen Richard Dayne in person! He'd been a mystery to Gordorf despite the Daynes having a handsome estate in the upper parts which he was said to have grown up in, and which had been praised for its gardens and architecture for years.

There was no question about it: Mr. Richard Dayne made an impression on me.

For a start, anyway.

Ms. Cotts took a sip of her tea before focusing her sharp gaze on me.

"The Daynes were just telling me of their visit to Mrs. Ivanhallow, who, I'm glad to say, is recovering splendidly."

She reached for a small letter laying on the table near her and handed it to me.

"You may look over its contents at a later date, but do let Mr. Critchford tell you of the matter. It is important that you are aware."

I felt a little uneasy but acted as normal as was possible for Cotts' sudden attentiveness was most suspicious.

Mr. Critchford, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat in a way that made me think of the gushing stream in the woods, looked to the old man and on receiving an encouraging nod began thus: