"Oh," said Sophie.

Chapter 17.

Nerissa's ankle was very nearly recovered but she still tended to favour it. She limped down the passage towards the estate room. Behind her sneaked Sophie, with Sir Barnabas close at her heels. Trust Effie to make her sister do the dirty work.

The door to the office was ajar. Nerissa went in.

"Miles, Cousin Sophie said you wish to see me? Oh, good day, Mr Bragg. I hope you do not look for my advice on estate business, for I know nothing of it, I fear."

Sophie heaved a sigh of relief and scuttled off back down the corridor. Sir Barnabas followed, a sour

smile on his face. Effie's plot had failed before it was well underway. She'd have to think again.

He heard Bragg, the unwitting marplot, say, "Good day, Miss Wingate. I'm sure I don't know..."

"Miss Sophie told you I need you?" Miles's voice interrupted, sounding puzzled. "She has muddled

something someone else said to her. I have not seen her since breakfast. But since you are here, let me just show you..."

Eager to witness Effie's discomfiture, Sir Barnabas passed out of earshot.

"You have locked them in?" Euphemia avidly greeted Sophie. "Give me the key."

"I have not got it, Effie."

"You haven't? Why not?"

"I did not lock the door."

"Dolt, can you never do anything right?"

"Mr Bragg was in the office with them." Sophie's delight was barely disguised. "I did not think it would serve to shut them in with him."

"You should have contrived a pretext to lure him out. Go back and do it at once, before Nerissa leaves."

"But I cannot think of any pretext, Effie."

"Must I do everything myself?" Irritably Euphemia surged up from the sofa. "Come, quickly. I shall lure

Bragg out. You hide, then as soon as I have him well out of the way, lock the dratted door."

She stalked off, Sophie scurrying after and Sir Barnabas once more bringing up the rear.

Just before they reached the office, Effie stopped at the door to a storage room on the opposite side of

the corridor. "Hide in here," she ordered her sister in a whisper. "Leave the door open just a crack. The

moment you hear my footsteps and Bragg's go past, nip out silently and turn the key."

Her face doleful, Sophie disappeared into the storeroom. Euphemia continued to the office. Without knocking, she pushed the door wide open, stepped into the room, and announced peremptorily, "Bragg, I want a word with you."

"We are just finished," said Miles cheerfully, "so we shall leave you to it."

Nerissa slipped through the gap between Effie and the door post. Miles followed as Bragg courteously enquired, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

Effie moved forward, spluttering, "But I ... I did not mean..."

Miles pulled the door closed behind him and he and Nerissa set off along the passage.

"What on earth does she want with your bailiff?" Nerissa asked.

"Who can guess? But Bragg is quite capable of taking care of himself. Here, take my arm."

"My ankle is perfectly all right, really." She sounded absurdly guilty. "I only limp because I half expect it to hurt."

Miles laughed. "Still, you ought not to ride or walk far as yet. Should you like to go for a drive this

afternoon?"

"Yes, that will be delightful. My preparations for the dinner party are well underway, and I still have a couple of days for the final arrangements. You and Snodgrass have settled on the wines, have you not?"

"Yes. The old man kept a pretty decent cellar, even if he was a spiteful old surlyboots."

Sticking out his tongue at their retreating backs in a lamentably childish manner, Sir Barnabas moved up

to the door and laid his ear against it. He was dying to know what excuse Effie was offering for her peculiar behaviour but the voices within were muffled, indistinct.

He had to dodge when Sophie suddenly darted out of the storage room, dashed across the corridor,

turned the key in the lock, and triumphantly removed it. "There," she said to herself, with a look of such mischief as he had never thought to see on her sweet, compliant face, "just as Effie ordered." And she trotted after Miles and Nerissa. * * * *

Two days later, the memory of her afternoon in the estate office and the humiliation of her subsequent release still had the power to bring howls of rage from Euphemia. Sir Barnabas listened with pleasure.

"That blockhead Bragg simply announced he could always find work to do," she stormed, "and then

ignored me. Six hours I spent looking at the top of his head. His hair is thinning, and so I told him."

"That was not kind, Effie," her sister remonstrated.

"Kind! I was not feeling kind. How even you could be so featherbrained as to lock up the wrong people

and not realize it for six hours..."

"I heard footsteps passing, and voices in the room." Sophie patiently repeated her story. Sir Barnabas thought she was rather proud of her cunning, and certainly Effie did not seem to suspect-or simply

could not believe-that the worm had turned. "The door was shut so I could not see who was there.

When I could not find you to give you the key, I put it on your dressing table."

And how finding it there had puzzled one and all! Sir Barnabas chuckled.

"But then you forgot about the ladder and the window and went out for a drive with Miles and Nerissa,

without ever realizing that meant someone else was in the estate office! Only you could be such a complete knock-in-the-cradle. You and Sir Barnabas. The clunch was wrong this time. That Will was the biggest blunder of his life, and his rightful heirs are going to be done out of a fortune. Miles and Nerissa are too clever for him by half."

A clunch was he? Sir Barnabas's bellow would have shaken the rafters had it been audible. Indeed, had he not been dead for several months, an apoplexy might well have borne him away. A knock-in-the-cradle was he? His Will a blunder? Miles and Nerissa too clever for him?

He'd show the harridan. He'd show them all.

For the dinner party, Nerissa wore a new gown, with a short train. The amber crepe over a white sarcenet slip was modestly trimmed with rouleaux of white satin, wide at the bottom of the skirt and narrow around the neckline. Miss Sophie had suggested that it was uncivil in a hostess to dress much finer than her guests and Nerissa agreed.

"A vulgar display of wealth," Miles had added, "though you'd be surprised how many do it anyway."

Though simple, the gown was quite becoming, Nerissa thought hopefully, before she was overcome by last minute nerves.

What did she, a theatre wardrobe mistress, think she was doing entertaining the gentry to a formal dinner? This was no casual morning call, potluck nuncheon, or afternoon tea. She was bound to make a mull of it.

"Why did I ever invite them?" she wailed as Maud put the last touches to her hair. "I shall do something dreadful and they will all know I am a mere seamstress aping her betters."

"Nonsense, child," said Miss Sophie, quite severely. "You are Miss Wingate of Addlescombe, granddaughter of a baronet, and all your guests are aware of it."

"'Tis every inch a lady you are now, miss," Maud put in encouragingly. "What's past is past and it don't do to dwell on it."

"Besides," Miss Sophie went on, "a formal occasion is often easier than an informal, because the rules are laid down for you and all you need do is follow them."

A knock on the door was followed by Miles's voice. "Nerissa, are you ready to go down?"

"Just coming." How typical of him to be there when she needed his support. The very sight of him, handsome and elegant in black and white, gave her confidence-and awoke her pride. She wasn't going to let him or anyone else see her trepidation.

She smiled up at him, then noticed his worried look. Surely he had no reason to be nervous! She touched his arm. "What is the matter, Miles?"

"I've been thinking. You arranged with Snodgrass to provide cards and card-tables after dinner, did you not?"

"Yes. Miss Sophie said gentlemen, and ladies too, often like to play. But they will not be set out unless they are needed."

He ran his hand through his hair. "The trouble is, while Clive Digby may be satisfied playing for fish, the rest will play for money, even if it's only shillings. And if I'm asked to join in, I'm dashed if I can see a polite way to avoid it. I've never hosted anything but a card evening and supper for gentlemen before."

"But you have been to plenty of dinner parties, or you could not have helped Miss Sophie teach me how to go on. You must have seen what your hosts did in that situation."

"Sat down and played."

"Oh." She thought hard, then gave him a quizzing smile. "You know, I don't believe you need be concerned. No one will wonder if you prefer flirting to cards, and between Anna Pettigrew and the Firston girls, there will be plenty of competition for your company."

Miles laughed, ruefully. "True, though I am a coxcomb to say it. Bless you." He dropped a swift, light kiss on her forehead as Miss Sophie came to join them.

"I was just reminding Maud of what she must do to look after the visiting ladies. Heavens, Miles, you have not combed your hair!"

"Wait for me." He dashed into his chamber and reemerged a moment later, once more impeccable. "Let us go down, ladies."

The Pettigrews, the Firstons, and the Digbys all arrived right on time. In the bustle of greetings, Nerissa lost what remained of her anxiety. She knew these people, and though there were one or two she could not like, she counted several as friends. It was a pity Clive Digby was so obviously in the sulks, but at least he had turned up and not spoiled her numbers.