Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(94)

Well, she could at least inspect the home while she was here. Lady Hero, Amelia, and the younger Lady Caire were all still away; Lady Phoebe was a girl and could hardly act alone. That left her to see if Lady Penelope was dressing all the boys in primrose coats or making the children march in circles or any other idea that flew into her scattered brain.

Isabel knocked on the front door.

Usually it was opened at once, but there was a very long wait this morning. Isabel tapped her toe, glanced at the sky to see if it was about to rain, and started when something crashed inside.

She raised her eyebrows at the still-shut door.

Which suddenly opened. One of the smaller girls—oddly still in her night rail—stood there with her thumb in her mouth, staring at Isabel mutely.

Isabel cleared her throat. “Where is everyone, darling?”

The child pointed down the hall behind her.

Well. Isabel raised her skirts and prepared to enter.

“Shall I stay out here, my lady?” Harold asked anxiously.

Isabel looked at him and then back into the home from which an odd screeching sound was coming. “I think you’d better come in with me. You, too, Pinkney.”

The lady’s maid had been loitering near the bottom of the steps but now climbed them reluctantly.

The hallway looked normal enough—if one discounted the long smear of something green at child height. Isabel peered closer. The smear looked suspiciously like pea soup. The sitting room was empty—except for a broken bowl on the floor—and the kitchen seemed normal enough save for the angry muttering of Mistress Medina. Something thundered across the ceiling overhead, and Isabel picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs.

She was nearly to the top when Soot came tearing past, closely followed by Dodo, trailing a long red ribbon tied around her neck. They went roaring down the stairs, and then Isabel heard the scrabbling of dog and kitty claws on the marble floor below before a scream and a crash from the kitchen.

Oh, dear.

She ran the rest of the way up the stairs and to the first classroom, skidding to a stop in the doorway and ducking only just in time as a small missile went whizzing past her head.

Sadly, Harold wasn’t so quick.

“Ow!” Harold picked up something from the floor. “They’re flinging walnuts, the little buggers!”

Pinkney clapped both hands over her mouth to muffle a giggle.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harold,” Isabel said faintly, for she was busy staring in horror at the classroom. Who knew that such well-mannered, sweet children could do… well, this.

To one side, a pitched battle was going on between some of the younger boys, apparently without any rules at all, for they were using slingshots, pillows, and what looked like the remains of their breakfast porridge. On the other side of the room, relative quiet reigned as the babies who could just walk intently painted the wall with more porridge and what looked like jam. In the middle, a bunch of girls had made a maze of tables and benches and were busy hopping from one to the other, screeching at the top of their lungs.

And in the midst of all this, Lady Penelope stood, her face a mask of stunned confusion. “Children,” she pleaded. “Children, please.”

As Isabel watched, a glob of porridge hit Lady Penelope’s lovely hair and stuck, sliding a bit over her left ear.

Naturally, Isabel started forward, ready to confiscate slingshots, yank girls down from tables, and wash a passel of babies. She opened her mouth, about to give a stern command… and then she thought about what she was doing. If she saved Lady Penelope now, helped her run the home and discipline the children, then there would never be a need to call Winter back to the home.

“Oh, Lady Beckinhall!” Lady Penelope had caught sight of her. She held out dainty white hands pitifully. “Surely you know what to do with children? I sent Artemis down to fetch Lord d’Arque or Nell or the cook or one of the maids or anyone, but she hasn’t returned. You don’t think they’ve captured her, do you? Tied her up and stuffed her under a bed?”

Lady Penelope essayed a laugh, but it came out more a frightened titter.

Isabel looked at her gravely. “I’m sure I have no experience with children, my lady, but in any case I wouldn’t be able to help. Mr. Makepeace has only ever been the one who could control these children. Didn’t you know? They come from St. Giles.”

“But… but…” Lady Penelope raised her hands to her head and unfortunately found the porridge stuck there. She let out a scream that for the moment made all the children pause.

Isabel backed from the room. “Oh, dear. I expect I should go find Miss Greaves, oughtn’t I?”

She whirled and was halfway to the stairs before she heard the wail from Lady Penelope. “Waaaiiit!”

Isabel climbed back down the stairs much more sedately than she’d come up, Harold and Pinkney trailing along silently. She tried the sitting room again first, and then went back to the kitchens.

Miss Greaves sat at the kitchen table with the cook, a pot of tea between them. Miss Greaves leaped to her feet at the sight of Isabel. “Oh, my lady. I was just… just…”

“Having tea, it looks like,” Isabel said soothingly. “I wouldn’t mind a cup myself. Harold, can you find Lord d’Arque for me and request he come speak to me?”

The footman nodded and trotted from the kitchen.