The Adopted Debutante

A Morning Call

Flinworth opened his eyes. A loud chirping outside had broken through his dreams. He sat up, not fully awake, not quite asleep. The chirping continued and was soon joined by that of other birds. 

Looking at the little timepiece by his bed, Flintworth saw that the time was a quarter before seven. With a groan, Flinworth rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Pulling himself out of bed, he dressed and combed his hair. Before leaving the room, he straightened the bed covers.

"A new day," he murmured. "May I live to see its end."

Flinworth crept down the hallway, avoiding the creaking patches, and tiptoed down the stairs. He took care to keep quiet. The front hall was a dismal dark gray color, but Flinworth was used to making his way around in the early hours and he set a fire to burn on the great hearth. Bylious would not be awake for hours, for which Flintworth was secretly relieved.

Settling himself in a worn velvet armchair, he watched the dancing flames and the wispy shadows they made against the red brick.

"I wonder if Miss Eloise is expecting us before noon," he mused. "I hope she is not. No matter, I doubt that the luncheon will be so short that we would miss it. I'm very grateful for her invitation. Although Sir Carroll gave it, I know he wouldn't have if she did not wish it." 

He smiled to himself. The glow in her eyes when he returned the piece of cloth--god, the sun may as well have been shining on him last night. 

"Master Jeremy has much to be thankful for. I know I would if I had a girl like her to love me...hmmm...oh, Austin, what are you talking about?" he chided himself with yawn. "You must have left your head back under the covers."

His eyes returned to the flickering flames and watched them dance and swirl together into darkness...

A thud struck in the dark. Flinworth stirred. It thudded again, clearing his mind. He opened his eyes to hear a third knock sound at the door. Looking up from his seat by the fire, Flintworth wondered who could be calling at Bylious' home so early in the morning. Well, "early" as in it was near 8 o'clock. Rare was the morning that Bylious stirred before 11 o'clock.

Shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his head, Flintworth stood and answered the door.

"Oh, good morning, Dr. Newson," he said politely. "What brings you here?"

"Is your master still asleep?" Dr. Newson asked in a nervous, low tone.

"Yes?" Flintworth replied quietly, catching the seriousness in the doctor's tone. "Is something the matter? No one has died, I hope?"

"No, no, talk to me on the steps--and shut the door," Newson said hastily. Flintworth obeyed. "It's simply this...how have events fared at Trellis Manor?"

Flintworth's brows furrowed in thought. 

"Fine...except that Faulke fellow came along a day or so ago. I had to keep the master from another tangle. Faulke will get it sometime and when he does, he'll get it hard, mind you."

"Yes, yes, I know, but what about the lovers?" Newson persisted.

"The lovers?" Flinworth repeated. "Mister Delend and Miss Trellis? Well, they're...in love. Am I supposed to say anything different?"

"Do you happen to go there anytime soon?" Newson asked. "Trellis Manor, I mean, and at a time when they'll both be there?"

"Why, yes. This very morning, actually," Flintworth replied.

"Would you...I know this sounds forward of me, but—would you mind just observing them and how they interact with each other?"

"Why do you want me to do that?" Flintworth asked in a worried voice. "Is there something—?"

Newson backed away a step. 

"I don't know, I don't know," he stammered.

"Doctor, if there is something that is threatening Miss Eloise or Master Jeremy, tell me," Flintworth insisted, stepping nearer.

"I don't want to arrive at any conclusions that are erroneous," Dr. Newson said excitably. "That's why I need your help."

"Flintworth!" a shout drawled from the upper level.

"Promise you will. You must," Newson demanded, but turned and hurried away before Flintworth could answer. "Oh, if he heard what I said..."

Disturbed by the doctor's words, Flintworth quickly entered the house and made his way to Bylious' chamber.

"You called, sir?" he asked, opening the door.

"Thank god you didn't knock," Bylious growled from his canopy bed. He sat up in his anger, then clapped his hand to his head with a hard groan. "Strangle that flagon of whiskey. Why do these headaches split to the bone? Don't gawk, you fool, and bring me the medicine."

"Medicine" was the term Bylious used for the pain-reliever Dr. Newson prescribed for his many hangovers. Flintworth did his bidding without a word. He poured a draught into a glass and handed it to Bylious. Bylious took it warily, sniffing the contents. Suddenly, he thrust the glass under Flinworth's nose.

"Drink it," he commanded.

Flinworth took a sip. Still suspicious, Bylious snatched back the glass and downed the contents.

"Just wanted to make sure it wasn't poisoned." He growled. "You might not be the type to stoop to murder, but money makes a man do anything. Plenty of my colleagues would see me done for."

"I don't believe any of your colleagues would stoop to murder, sir," Flintworth said. 

"You don't them, Flintworth. Not like I do. I've made my share of enemies," Bylious muttered. " Aye, and less friends in the balance. I defy any man to see as little compassion as I do. What's the use of being good to them? They're never good to you in return."

"Now, sir, that can't be true," Flintworth countered. "Sir Carroll and Miss Trellis are good to you, and so is Master Jeremy. Why, only a few days ago—"

"Ho, that stag was a beauty," Bylious bellowed, glowing with pride. "Even she was proud of my catch."

"Exactly. You needn't have many friends so long as they're good ones, sir," Flintworth said.

Bylious mused for a few moments. 

"Well, you know 'they' isn't the right word," He said. "It's rather 'she.' "

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Flintworth asked.

Bylious looked up with a grin. "She's just got them under her spell. They think all sorts of things when she's not about, but when she turns those devilish eyes of hers on a fellow—" he laughed, "I think even you, peevish lamb, would lose your chains of 'Christian charity' if she ever skipped town."

"Indeed, I hope I wouldn't, sir," Flintworth replied, dismayed. "Miss Trellis isn't my source of grace."

"So say they all, Flintworth," Bylious said, continuing to grin in his strange manner. Then his face grew hard. "Bring me my clothes. I want to get to that manor before Delend does."

As Flintworth left the room, he wondered what Bylious intention could be. Could he have something to do with what the doctor was worried about? Still, Flintworth couldn't know for certain. What if Bylious altered Miss Eloise' and Master Jeremy's behavior merely by his presence?

"If I'm going to observe them, he'll have to be somewhere else," Flintworth thought to himself. "...where could I leave him alone? It couldn't be for long."

As he wondered where Bylious could be left, Flintworth realized that before they went anywhere, they must have breakfast. Bylious needed something in his stomach if he was to be relaxed. He would certainly have regained his appetite by the time they arrived. Flintworth went to the kitchen and told Dora, the cook, to prepare a light breakfast. 

Not quite a half hour later, Bylious came down the steps. He found Flintworth in the dining room.

"So this is where you'd got to," he huffed.

"I thought a breakfast might do us good before we depart." Flintworth replied, indicating the plate. "After all, it is not yet a quarter to nine. I'm not sure Miss Eloise is quite prepared to see her guests yet."

With a grumble, Bylious set himself down to the meal. After eating quietly for a time, he paused and glanced keenly at Flintworth.

"So you're not planning on shadowing me the whole day, are you?" he asked.

"I never do, sir," Flintworth replied truthfully. "But if there is anything you need...?"

Bylious grunted again and said nothing.

Goodness, Flintworth thought, could he have heard the doctor? 

The thought plagued him as the meal ended silently, and Bylious, instead of heading for the door, ascended the hall stairs. Flintworth heard him enter his chambers.