The Arnifour Affair by Gregory Harris Page B

without him in tow and, beyond that, I’m not much of a fan of his brawling, even if he does insist it’s all good sport.
    We indulged in our stew and the accompanying biscuits with due haste before setting ourselves to preparations for the arrival of our guest. I tidied up the study, which consisted of straightening up my clutter of writing papers and dispatching the wayward pieces of Colin’s pistol and knife collection back to their display cabinet, while Mrs. Behmoth put on a kettle and mixed up a batch of currant scones. For his part, Colin was tasked with stoking the fire back to life, which he dispatched forthwith before seizing his dumbbells and hoisting them about in myriad ways. In no time at all we were awaiting the arrival of Kaylin Arnifour to the rich, buttery smell of Mrs. Behmoth’s scones baking beneath our feet.
    I found myself brought back to thoughts of Mademoiselle Rendell, who was about as French as blood pudding, and her insistence that she knew nothing about Angelyne’s disappearance when it was clear she was far craftier than she was letting on. Which was the very reason I was to return there in a few hours’ time. What she would not tell could be discerned in other ways.
    Michael had told us nothing new and it had been disturbing to see the way in which he and his sister were forced to live. Their single room was less than half the size of our study and contained neither a fireplace nor radiator with which to heat it in even the most perfunctory way. The plaster on the walls teemed with hairline cracks and great chunks of it were missing altogether. Two pallets lay on the floor for the children to sleep on and there was a single battered chair and equally sorrowful table upon which sat the room’s only candle. It made for a depressing tableau in the sunlight and I only hoped it might somehow look better by the flickering glow of that one fatty taper. The sight of it all had left Colin quite maudlin while I had found myself grateful for ever having escaped, though the verity that I had come to be there of my own regrettable volition left me ashamed all over again. I was gratified that Colin had not raised that spectre again on our way home.
    A sudden knock at our door shook me from my prickly contemplation.
    â€œI’ll get it!” Mrs. Behmoth hollered as her slippers slapped against the wood foyer.
    â€œOutstanding.” He chuckled as he set the dumbbells aside and pulled his jacket on. “She does have everything to do with the man I am today, you know.”
    â€œYes, but I do try to forgive her.”
    He laughed as the sound of her plodding up the stairs brought us to our feet. A moment later she appeared on the landing with a slight young woman at her side. “Kaylin Arnifour,” she announced with her usual lack of enthusiasm.
    â€œLady Kaylin . . .” Colin smiled broadly as he moved to the landing and took the young woman’s hand, ushering her inside. “We do so appreciate your thoughtfulness in indulging us this meeting in the midst of such a difficult time. We would certainly not have requested it if we didn’t feel it to be of the utmost importance. Please”—he beckoned her to the settee—“we were just about to have some tea. I insist you join Mr. Pruitt and me.”
    I stepped forward to greet her and got my first good look at her. She instantly put me in mind of how her mother must have appeared as a young woman. Delicate and trim with a jumble of light brown curls cascading down her back, she was quite striking. She also displayed a hint of color in her crystalline complexion, and given her lithe, muscular arms revealed just below the puffy sleeves of her dress, I determined they spoke of her fondness for riding. They also gave her a more substantive air than her slender build initially suggested. While she and Eldon were clearly crafted from the same physical mold, he had none of his sister’s