Mr. Beaumaris was sorely tempted. He glanced down at his companion, met her innocently enquiring gaze, hesitated, and then said: “Well, no, Miss Tallant! I had business there.”
She laughed. “I thought it had been that.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Beaumaris, “I am glad I did not lie to you.”
“How can you be so absurd? As though I should wish you to put yourself to so much trouble! What has Jemmy been doing?”
“It would sadden you to know: Mrs. Buxton is persuaded that he is possessed of a fiend. The language he employs, too, is not such as she is accustomed to. I regret to say that he has also alienated my keepers, who have quite failed to impress upon him the impropriety of disturbing my birds, or, I may add, of stealing pheasants’ eggs. I cannot imagine what he can want with them.”
“Of course he should be punished for doing so! I daresay he has not enough employment. One must remember that he has been used to work and should be made to do so now. It is not at all good for anyone to be perfectly idle.”
“Very true, ma’am,” agreed Mr. Beaumaris meekly.
Miss Tallant was not deceived. She looked sharply up at him, and bit her lip, saying after a moment: “We are speaking of Jemmy! ”
“I hoped we were,” confessed Mr. Beaumaris.
“You are being nonsensical,” said Arabella, with some severity. “What is to be done with him?”