The Unseen Guest: Chapters 3–4

Certainly no one of good sense would sail headlong into the whirling, tornado-like temper of Lady Constance Ashton, if it could be helped.

When highly agitated, as she was now, Lord Fredrick’s young bride had a regrettable tendency to blow over anything in her path.

No doubt Agatha Swanburne would have agreed with this homespun wisdom, but the advice went unheeded, for Lady Constance had just reached the same conclusion that Penelope had come to that very morning.

In fact she had powdered herself into an otherworldly pallor, which she now tried to fix by powdering herself even more.

She stamped both her feet for emphasis, as if trying to squash an elusive bug.

Beowulf asked dubiously, for he recalled Miss Lumley’s instruction from earlier in the day.

It was only the Widow Ashton’s inability to see objects clearly without her pince-nez that prevented her from spotting her daughter-in-law the moment she climbed out of her carriage.

She gave a cursory glance to the children—and then a second, far sterner look.

The admiral’s cheeks turned ruddy with anger, which threw his white muttonchop sideburns into bold relief.

“My ostrich! My ostrich that I shipped at great expense all the way from Africa! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to catch an ostrich? They’re mean and stupid but faster than a Thoroughbred. That’s why I want to import them to England. For racing. It’s a business venture that simply cannot fail. That is, unless my Bertha is lost.”

“My ostrich! My ostrich that I shipped at great expense all the way from Africa! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to catch an ostrich? They’re mean and stupid but faster than a Thoroughbred. That’s why I want to import them to England. For racing. It’s a business venture that simply cannot fail. That is, unless my Bertha is lost.”

“See how polite they are, Fawsy? I would have expected my Freddy to marry a flighty, silly sort of girl; that was always his type—but anyone who could raise three such well-behaved children must be of a more substantial character. What a relief! Now, Fawsy, give Cassagurr back her feather. It looked so pretty in that lovely auburn hair, didn’t it?”

“Who on earth is this dirty, uncouth, and uncivilized creature?” she demanded.

While the Widow Ashton fussed over the children—she would not hear of them going back to the nursery but insisted on keeping them near her on the settee; she even requested tea and cakes to be brought in, though it was not yet close to teatime—Lord Fredrick and Admiral Faucet slapped their knees and exchanged tree-themed puns.

To understand why, consult the Law of Contagious Puns, a little-known corollary to Newton’s First Law of Motion, the scientific principle that explains why an ostrich in motion is likely to remain in motion, at least until the bird gets tired.

“Take some bread so you don’t get peckish, but save your appetite for dinner. It’s rude to ask personal questions, but show an interest in the other guests. When in doubt, smile! Without baring your teeth, of course; people might take it the wrong way. Just be yourselves, dearies. But on your best behavior! And whatever you do, don’t be nervous.”

The butler announced in a booming voice: 
“May I present Lord Fredrick Ashton and his mother, the Dowager Lady Ashton. Admiral Faucet and Lady Constance Ashton. Dinner is served.”

With relief, Penelope saw the boys resist the urge to toss their turnips in the air, as they were accustomed to doing with the peas.

“Finally, the kind sisters threw me out. Perhaps my incessant wails of grief were getting on their nerves. Who knows? I rented a small chalet in a neighboring village and joined a croquet club. It was there that I met Admiral Faucet.”

“Finally, the kind sisters threw me out. Perhaps my incessant wails of grief were getting on their nerves. Who knows? I rented a small chalet in a neighboring village and joined a croquet club. It was there that I met Admiral Faucet.”

The children stared ruefully at their plates.

“Everywhere I look I see memories, haunting the rooms like ghosts! How well I recall the medicines he used to take . . . the therapeutic ointments . . . the quack doctors and faith healers who would come by on a weekly basis. . . .”

“Since the day he was born, every four weeks like clockwork, the episodes would come on. Scratching and howling and barking like a wild thing! The doctors were mystified. It was as if the condition had jumped from Edward to Fredrick without missing a moon. It’s why I never had another child. I was terrified that it was something hereditary. It was very clever of you to take in wards, Fredrick. I dread to think how any natural-born children of yours would suffer from the same ailment.”

“He is an older gentleman, very distinguished and charming, if I do say so. Perhaps your husband knew him? I expect they would have been about the same age.”

“That’s what the coroner said, too.”