“Shut it, brat,” Dougal pulled her hair lightly. “Anyway, we don’t need brute force. We have Meg.”
They looked at her with such confidence that a lump formed in her throat. The last vestiges of laudanum didn’t help. She wondered if it made a person teary. Before she could think of what to say, footsteps thundered down the hall towards them. Canterbury was in the lead, brandishing an iron frying pan. “Where’s the intruder!”
“I see Lady Beatrice reached the kitchen.” Dougal stepped aside to show Alice’s sprawled body. Canterbury did not lower his frying pan. “I hear she attacked Lady Charlie. Can I cosh her one more time?”
Charlie beamed. “You’d do that for me? Cosh a lady?”
He frowned at her hoarseness. “’Course I would.”
“You’re my favorite butler.”
“Bind her and gag her,” Dougal ordered, scowling down at Alice. “Send for the constable but don’t leave her alone for even a second. She’s devious.”
“You can use my spear, as long as you bring it back,” Lady Beatrice shoved her way through the crowd and placed a handkerchief of ice against George’s eye with surprisingly gentle care. She nudged Charlie inside the dining room and into a chair, thrusting a cup of tea in her hands. “Drink this. Mrs. Cricket is preparing a vinegar poultice.”
“I’m not drinking vinegar.”
“For your bruises. But Mrs. Cricket has nine children and has seen every kind of mishap. If she tells you to drink vinegar, you’ll drink it, my girl.” She stroked Charlie’s hair, like a grandmother would before drawing back abruptly. “I’d best see to Marigold. She doesn’t care for theatrics. They don’t suit her digestion.”
“Will they prosecute her?” George asked dubiously as the footman lifted Alice. She moaned.
“For housebreaking, setting a fire, drugging a duke and duchess, and attempting to murder a duke’s sister?” Meg said. “I should think so.”
“And if they don’t, she’ll find herself transported soon enough,” Dougal promised. “I’ll see to it.” He bowed to Meg, an exaggerated courtly bow that made her smile. “Your turn, my lady.”
She stepped further into the dining room as Dougal lit every candle he could find. The painted stars shone above, the trees and the flowers and Pan with his naughty wink.
“Seven shells for your boat,” she recited. “And seven roses for your coat. Those clues brought us into this room. Seven stars for your wrath is trickier, because this entire house is full of stars.” She approached the mural she had worked on so determinedly. “But the part about wrath made me think about the old duke’s temper. Atkins confirmed that he had plasterers and artists up to the house on a regular basis to the fix the damage, and himself the night Lady Dahlia ran away. Another hole in the wall might have escaped notice, at least for a little while.”
“Atkins remembered the west wall, if not where exactly.” She tilted her head. “When I was working on this mural, after the housebreaker, well, Alice, I suppose, meddled with it, I noticed a whole section as very badly plastered.” She dragged her fingertips over the painting. “This whole section. It’s still too much to smash through though.” She smiled at George. “A flash of green when day turns to night. As George said, green flashes happen on the horizon in the Islands. Dahlia would have seen them regularly.”
She wiped away years of soot with a handkerchief. When it wasn’t enough, she used some of the vinegar water Mrs. Cricket had brought up with Charlie’s poultice. Just a little, not enough to damage the paint. “I need soft bread,” she said when it wasn’t working quite as well as she’d like. Mrs. Cricket had already sent up coffee and baskets of bread and cheeses.
“You’re washing the wall with bread?” George asked.
“It’s softer than fabric and less likely to take all of the paint off.”
“Damn the mural,” Charlie said.
“I certainly will not.”
Slowly, eventually, Meg revealed a line of green painted clumsily along the line of water. Charlie made a noise of excitement. “Just like you said!”
“And Pan is the Greek god of panic,” Meg continued. “I’m annoyed at myself I never caught on before. Pendleton will be cross with me.”
“I’d think he’d be proud seeing as you just foiled several treasure hunters and a madwoman,” Dougal said, dry as toast.
“Not quite yet.” Meg said. She touched Pan’s eye gently and followed his imaginary line of sight. “Panic not, the treasure is in sight.” It pointed to the green line and the bumpy plaster underneath. She still had no intention of bashing through such a large section of wall. There had to be another way in.
“Seven stars for your wrath.” Three stars were part of the original mural, but she noticed then that their reflection cast four stars in the dark swath of blue water below. Four stars above, but only three below. See?”
All together they created a circle.
In the very center of that bumpy plaster.
Around a small rowboat, nothing like a pirate’s ship. She should have known Lady Dahlia would not have been so obvious.
“X marks the spot,” Dougal said softly.