Slowly and thoughtfully, I walked towards the house. Quistelle had been adopted by a Mister Palton. The name wasn't familiar but perhaps my father, who was not only a bank shareholder but also a member of the Prominent Men's Society of Science and Medicine, knew something of him. I made a mental note to write him later on. This Mr. Palton had taken Quistelle's situation into consideration but who was he to her? A father? A mentor? And how did he come to meet this Morovi girl and how did she end up here in Gordorf of all places? There were so many questions but no answers! Mrs. Ivanhallow, no doubt, knew more than anyone, but a message as delicate as this could not be handled through written correspondences. No. A conversation in person was the only way, but due to current circumstances, it would have to wait. And I couldn't press Quistelle for information—that is against decorum. She must want to tell me and before that can happen, I must make her trust me.

There was something suspicious about Quistelle, but once again, I could find no fault. With a firm resolution, I decided to spend the night at Bedlaam to see what else I could learn of her habits.

I started when a figure with flying skirt tails screamed my name across the lawn.

"Malia Malstoyke!

Susan Hunchet, was hurrying towards me with flushed cheeks and excited eyes. Her golden head gleamed in the afternoon sunshine.

"Oh, by blessed Gordorf come this minute!"

"What's happened?" I couldn't decide whether to worry or be at ease with her excitement. "Calm yourself Susan, your grin is so wide, I fear you might split your face."

Closing the distance between us, she caught my arm, almost tripping over her skirt.

"There's been a turn of events, Lia! You must make haste and come see."

She pulled me along, her fingers pressing into my skin.

"Most extraordinary!" she was saying as we went. "Ammie meant to come, but she was indecisive so I took it upon myself to come and get you and—Oh! How pretty your dress is! I hope I look attractive enough in case glorious gentlemen are paying a visit!"

She blushed for no apparent reason.

"So long as he has a good societal position, I shall be most content."

To my horror, she began tugging at her dress to plump her bust. She laughed when I scolded her.

"Haven't I the right to make myself desirable? There is a houseful of competition and no doubt Ammie has already run off to put on her best dress! And that red hair of hers is a wild attraction compared to my boring but luscious gold curls."

She puffed her curls with a sigh.

"We girls can be vain when the opportunity arises."

I must confess I was not used to this incoherent blabbering from Susan and became more irritable by the second.

"I am not interested in your rantings, Susan, now get to the point. Is there something important happening or not?"

For an instant, she looked wounded by my words, but resumed her giddiness in mere seconds.

"I'll have you know, Lia, that a handsome carriage is stationed at the front gate. Lead by the shiniest black manes you have ever set your eyes on. Four of them, I say! With a coachman! No doubt the handsome stranger is of extraordinary family ties and position."

"It's a man?" I said, a note of surprise in my voice.

Susan fanned her flushed face.

"It would appear so, although I didn't stay long enough to take a glimpse at him."

Men, young and old alike, were not a common occurrence at Bedlaam since the late Mr. Ivanhallow, who was a regular entertainer when the place was fresh and decorated and knew happier times. After nearly twenty years, the prospect of a young squire making an appearance under Mrs. Ivanhallow's roof was enough to stir up the women within it like the disruption of the daily functions of an ant hill.

Madness to say the least.

"Has it ever occurred to you that it may be a woman, Susan?"

She laughed.

"And pray, dear Lia, how many women do you know of that would be capable of owning such a prestigious carriage in Gordorf?"

Her question was an ignorant one because I instantly thought of several important women who would be capable of providing themselves with a fine carriage. And it was no question that our guests had come from the upper parts (lower Gordorfians used the trusted foot and road method of travel unless going extreme distances), and, as far as I knew, most well established people were residents of upper Gordorf. But I could not for the life of me fathom what a rich woman would do at such a lonely-looking place as Bedlaam—a man even more so!

"I can name quite a few women, actually," I said, adopting a haughty tone.

She glanced sideways at me, as though trying to decide whether to take me seriously.

"Besides, it could very well be my father paying me a surprise visit!"

This idea pleased me very much and with more energy, I was now pulling Susan along who had slowed down as my words sank into her watery brain. For a moment her face clouded, then brightened up immediately.

"Well, I suppose we shall find out." She waved a hand towards Harriet who waited for us at the door.

"It's a man!"

The two girls squealed delightedly, and looping their arms through my own, they dragged me along.

Though disappointed, I was too curious to rid myself of Susan and Harriet's whispers and squeals as they guided me indoors. All the girls of the house looked animated and gay in their best dresses, except little Ellen Trupp, who sat on the stairs making hideous faces at Ammie Goldwolfer as she rushed down in her lovely blush pink dress with its ridiculous white bow.

She joined our group catching Violet Partridge by the sleeve and pulling her into the circle.

"What does he look like?" Susan whispered excitedly. "Is he tall?" and giving my arm a violent shake, oblivious to the fact that it was the girl to the right of me who possessed the answers to her questions, cried desperately, "Oh! Tell me he is! Not that I should care much for his appearance so long as he has a reputable, most admirable position."

"There are three of them," Violet put in innocently.

The girls squealed again and I half expected Harriet would faint as her heavy bossom rose and fell while she fanned herself expressively. I wondered also if I'd be deaf by the end of this.

"Three wealthy bachelors at Bedlaam!"

"We don't know for sure if they aren't married—" Violet sensibly began.

"Does anyone know their names?" said Ammie looking about. "Where's Phoebe? She always knows something."

"One is an older gentleman—"

Susan gave an impatient wave. "Who cares about that when he's rich, Violet? But of course you prefer a certain Mister Henfield."

Ms. Petruny would have put some sense into them had she heard their talk!—I might have too if I tried. However, it must be known I am not made of the gritty stuff fortune bestowed upon the ever firm Ms. Petruny.

Susan, Harriet, and Ammie were an unsurprising case. I had tried, without success, to instill an idea of lady-like behaviour and decency and soon accepted defeat in their cause. But there is no explanation for the shock I experienced when Marge ran up to me with the most inhumane expression on her plain little face; she was smiling so animatedly, that I was ready to slap all the sense of Gordorf back into her.

She clasped my gloved hands in her own.

"You've come at last to bear witness!" she said breathlessly. "He's glorious, isn't he?"

"You've all gone mad!" I said in a fierce whisper.

"He's charming, Lia! And with such pleasant manners and with a voice that could melt butter!" She held up a pale white hand. "He kissed it! He bowed and kissed my hand!"

"Oh, I've had enough!" And throwing myself loose of their grasps, I marched towards the parlour.

Ignoring their calls, I was determined to set my eye on the dreadful man or men responsible for this unspeakable uprising at Bedlaam!

Ms. Cotts, in her prim black dress with white lace collar and sleeves, turned a cool eye on me when I entered.

"Ah, there you are, child. I was wondering when you'd make an appearance. It is only right that you meet our esteemed guests."

She turned to the three gentlemen across from her. "Ever since she was very little her father had her visit the Ivanhallows with his sister, Mrs. Delewin Browton, a truly charitable woman, really..."

The gentlemen all arose from their places and offered me courtly bows.

"Miss Malstoyke, I presume?" said the pleasant man with a trim moustache.

I curtsied.

He adjusted his reading specs. "Please allow me introduce myself. I am Mr. Critchford assistant secretary of Dayne & Co. and these gentlemen are my superiors—"

He did not need to finish. I'd recognise that full-bearded gentleman with his keen eyes and famous ivory-handled cane  anywhere. To his left towered a younger man with soot black hair and the same keen dark eyes.

I blinked.

I stared.

And blinked again.

By Gordorf's ear!

It was Mr. Dayne!