Philippa did not come down for breakfast, but Miss Darkin did. "Your sister was upset when she came back up this morning," she commented, pouring her tea. "What did you say to her?"

Groaning, I shook my head. Surely she wasn't going to chastise me as well! "No doubt I was blunter with her than I ought to have been," I admitted. I explained what I had said to my sister, ending with, "Tell me I was an awful brother."

"Not awful," Miss Darkin said with a gentle smile. "Though it seems to me that you were not as kind as you could have been. Your sister has found herself caught in a situation she doesn't know how to get herself out of."

"It seems straightforward to me. If she would just speak to Talbot-"

"Yes, but she is young, you know," Miss Darkin interrupted, which was unusual for her. "She must find the courage to put her pride aside. I suspect she hasn't had much practice at doing that."

Which had to be the most polite way to say Philippa was a spoiled chit of a girl.

"If I might make a suggestion, simply refuse to speak about the matter. Not even to scold her or try to reason with her," Miss Darking continued. "Change the subject every time. She must decide for herself what to do, and she must not be influenced by anyone else."

How calm and reasonable she was!
"Do you think that will work?" I asked skeptically. Miss Darkin raised an eyebrow. I paused and then shook my head. "My apologies. It cannot be any worse than what I've been doing."

Miss Darkin chuckled. "Trust me, Mr. Bywood. I have several sisters, you know. I have been through this before."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I trusted her implicitly. However, it seemed too intimate. It already felt so comfortable, so right, to be sitting with her over a meal.

"Your sisters must be lost without you," I said instead. "What do your parents do when you are away?"

Eyes sparkling, Miss Darkin laughed. "My parents manage things even better without my paltry attempts to help, and as for my siblings...well, I'm sure they are happiest when I'm away."

Davison appeared in the doorway. "Pardon me, sir," he said solemnly. "The magistrate has arrived."

"And I must finish packing," Miss Darkin said, setting her napkin aside.

"I hope you won't leave without allowing me to bid your farewell and safe journey," I said quickly.

She smiled. "I would never be so rude," she responded as she rose from her chair. Miss Darkin strode out of the room with the confidence of a woman twice her age.

It was only when Davison cleared his throat that I realized I had been staring after her. "Right," I said, giving myself a mental shake to focus on the matter at hand. "Did you show Sir Harrow to the library?"

"I thought it best if he examined the library and the damage done," Davison answered.

Nodding my thanks, I set off for that room. Hands clasped behind his back, Sir Harrow stood in front of the board covered windows. He turned as I entered. "Well," he said. "I wasn't expecting to be back here so soon."

That was an understatement if I'd ever heard one. I nodded towards the windows. With two covered with boards, it was dimmer in the room that it might ordinarily have been.

"I was not expecting to have to call upon you so soon," I told him. "I am at a loss to explain why this has happened again. Could it have been—"

"I doubt it was any of the Swansons," he interrupted to say quickly. Then he hesitated. "I will go to the farm to be sure, of course, but I doubt his parents let him out of their sight last night."

Wait. Was he suggesting that he'd taken Ben Swanson to his parents' home and left him there? I vaguely recalled him saying he intended to take the young man home, but I hadn't guessed that would be the end of the matter.

"Unless he managed to slip out once his parents retired for the night," I pointed out slowly. I had done so when I was a young teenager. If Ben Swanson resented being caught, what might he be capable of doing to get revenge??

"True, true," Sir Harrow agreed quickly. "As I said, I will look into it. He is not the only culprit we have to suspect."

I eyed him for a moment. Was he trying to reassure me or himself? He had taken responsibility for the young man. Perhaps he regretted making that decision now.

"What other culprit are you referring to?" I asked, since he seemed to be waiting for me to say something. "I can't think of anyone that I might have offended or wronged in any way."

Sir Harrow let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as he turned back to the boarded-up windows. "It's not a matter of personal vendettas, Mr. Bywood," he began slowly. "But rather a web of tangled circumstances that have led us here today."

I frowned, feeling a prickle of unease creeping up my spine. "What do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten the pistol case?"

Honestly, yes, I had. "You think it is somehow connected?"

"I think it would be unwise to make any assumptions just yet," the magistrate responded. "We know that the pistol case was hidden deliberately. I am sure when we discover the reason for that action, we'll know who threatened your home last night."

Puzzled, I tried to work out what he might mean. "You think whoever hid the box came to the house last night because they believed I still had it?" I asked cautiously. "Why would it be that important to them?"
"Possibly because it implicated them in a crime," Sir Harrow said, his tone becoming grave. Then his expression changed with a smile, and he spread his hands out. "Or, I could be overthinking the matter completely."

I couldn't decide which suggestion would be better. If someone had been involved in a crime, it would certainly explain the entire situation. But it would mean that he would be a desperate person.

On the other hand, if Sir Harrow was mistaken, we were still left with a mystery to solve.

Davison entered the room. "Pardon me, sir," he said. "Molly has arrived."

Molly? It took me a moment to make the connection. Swanson's sister. My maid. That was a matter that needed to be dealt with, and I still didn't know what to do.

"My advice is to go forward with the picnic," Sir Harrow said, his tone becoming brisk. "Sooner rather than later. In fact, have your housekeeper coordinate with mine and we will have it in two days."

Astonished, I stared at him. "Two days?" I echoed. "I don't know if Mrs. Wallace can manage-"

"Which is why my housekeeper will assist," the magistrate responded. "The sooner you bring all parties involved together in a neutral setting, the sooner we might uncover the truth behind these recent events."

His words made sense, yet I couldn't shake off the feeling of apprehension settling in the pit of my stomach. Was hosting a picnic truly the solution to this escalating mystery?

"Very well. I will speak to Mrs. Wallace," I told him. "But if she feels it cannot be done, I will trust her."

"My staff are at her disposal. Whatever she requires of them, they will do. And don't worry about the expense. I will bear it myself for the sake of bringing this matter to an end. I will send over the guest list by this evening."

With that settled, Sir Harrow clapped me on the shoulder before taking his leave. I let out a deep breath and rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of what I'd just committed myself to.

"Do you wish me to deal with Molly?" Davison asked.

Startled, I faced him. "No, I'll speak with her. I haven't decided what to do with her."

"She is very frightened," Davison informed me.

Perfect. She'd always been timid on the best of days. It would be harder to speak to her if she was trembling and shaking.

"Has Mrs. Wallace given an opinion?" I asked. This was, perhaps, something I ought to have spoken to her directly about. After all, the staff fell under her domain. "Do you have an opinion?"

Davison put his hands behind his back. "It is a difficult situation," he said, his tone solemn.

Somehow, I didn't believe he had no advice or opinion to give, but I didn't press the issue. "I agree, but we must address it nonetheless. I suppose I should simply talk to her and see what she has to say for herself. Send her in."

"Shall I attend as well?"

"I think it would be better if Mrs. Wallace accompanied her," I said slowly. "Too many people may make her uncomfortable."

With a nod, the valet-butler withdrew from the room. I took a deep breath and tried to organize my thoughts. Molly had helped her brother break into Pearsend on multiple occasions, which had resulted in more work for everyone. That alone should result in her being dismissed.

Nevertheless, I couldn't ignore the fact that her family was in a dire situation. The loss of her wages could have devastating consequences for them.

As Molly entered the room, her eyes downcast and hands wringing nervously in front of her, I felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. She had been swept up in her brother's misguided actions, her loyalty to him placing her in a difficult position. Mrs. Wallace followed closely behind, her expression a mix of disapproval and concern.

"Molly," I said gently, still trying to decide what to say to her. "I believe you know what happened last night."

She nodded meekly, her gaze flickering up to meet mine briefly before dropping again. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Bywood. I-I didn't think there was any harm in helping my brother. I never meant to cause any trouble."

Mrs. Wallace tutted in disapproval. "I'd like to know why you thought that," she said, her tone scolding. "It should be common sense not to allow anyone in the house who doesn't belong."

Molly glanced up again, and I saw tears in her eyes. She ducked her head without saying anything.

"Molly, I understand that you were only trying to help your brother," I began, trying to be patient. "But you must realize that your actions have consequences. We cannot allow unauthorized individuals to enter the house, no matter the reason."

The girl sniffled, her hands trembling as she wrung them together. "I-I know, sir. I'm sorry," she whispered.

At least, Mrs. Wallace's expression softened slightly at the sight of Molly's distress. She shot me a quizzical look, no doubt curious to know what I intended to do.

"You have put us all in a difficult position," I said, focusing on the girl in front of me. "By all rights, I should send you on your way. However, I am willing to offer you a second chance."

Molly's head came up, and she stared at me with wide eyes. "S-sir?" she stammered.

"But you will be on probation," I warned before she could say anymore. "I will expect no more of the mischief you helped your brother with. No allowing anyone into the house who should not be there. You will do your duties to Mrs. Wallace's standards. Is that understood?"

Good heavens, she looked as though she were about to cry. "Yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "Thank you, sir!"

"Enough of that, my girl," Mrs. Wallace said, her tone gruff. "Get yourself down to the kitchen. The dishes aren't going to wash themselves."

Hastily, Molly bobbed the curtsy she should have made when she entered the room. "Thank you!" she repeated. She hurried out of the room, using her apron to scrub at her face.

Heaving a sigh, I sank onto a chair. "Am I being foolish?"

Mrs. Wallace chuckled. "I think you are being merciful. I'll keep an eye on her. If she causes any trouble, I'll send her on her way. Hopefully, Lizzie hasn't heard what's happened and tease her about it."

"I'm not going to hold out much hope of that."

If there was one constant in life, it was that servants had a way of finding out everything. No matter how much you tried to keep something from them, it was bound to come out sooner or later.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Wallace moved to leave the room. "One more thing," I said, remembering my assignment from the magistrate. "We are going to have a picnic in two days."

"Sir?" She spun back to me with wide eyes. "I don't-"

"Sir Harrow insists," I interrupted. "You are to coordinate with his housekeeper to arrange the details. He is handling the expense for this and has said his servants are at your disposal to ensure the picnic goes forward without any issues."

Mouth open, Mrs. Wallace blinked as she took in the information. "May I ask why?" she asked when she recovered herself.

"Sir Harrow believes it is the best opportunity to draw out the culprit behind last night's attack," I explained.

After a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Wallace nodded. "Very well, Mr. Bywood. I will make the necessary arrangements for the picnic with Sir Harrow's housekeeper. Is there anything else I should know?"

There was not. She left the room, and I was once again alone with my thoughts. Who in the neighborhood could have owned the dueling pistols? Was it a neighbor I hadn't met or someone fleeing trouble? Why hide the box on my property? Convenience?

Well, hopefully the trouble of the picnic would bring something of use. Or, at least, some kind of clarity.