Those who had, nodded wisely and said that while it might have looked peculiar from the outside, the major was an old-fashioned type, and perhaps it was a werewolf courting ritual of some seventy years gone. The very old (the howlers, the record-keepers, and the vampires) wondered about Major Channing’s first wife. But they did not say anything, because they were also old enough to know when to hold their tongues.
The fact that little Miss Wigglesworth brought her maid along with her to call at Falmouth House was thought a trifle odd. Suggestions were made that this was, most likely, an American custom. Others thought perhaps she intended to inspect the household and the running thereof, and that the maid would provide assistance in the matter of downstairs staff. Miss Wigglesworth would be the first proper wife to enter the London Pack since Lady Maccon. It was expected that she would take over the running of day-to-day concerns (or night-to-night, as it were). Of course, she would wish to visit during daylight hours if she wanted to meet the children and see the clavigers.
Faith and Minnie hid in the safety of the pack house until after sunset.
Whether her parents would try to get ahold of either of them was a moot point. Falmouth House did not open its doors to just anyone, visiting hours or not. After all, during the daytime, the pack had no one high enough ranked awake to receive. Also, in England it was not done, as a general rule, to call upon werewolves; one waited for them to call upon you.
Faith and Teddy had a very pleasant time of it. They played with the two children, gossiped with the clavigers (a cheerful, rowdy bunch who nevertheless tried to put on a few airs and graces in the presence of ladies). Faith had her work cut out for her with them – actors and opera singers and such. She enjoyed the challenge. Mrs Iftercast knitted and watched them all indulgently (no doubt imagining her own future grandchildren) while Minnie paced and tried not to look nervous.
The children were sweet. Robbie was a dear little fellow with a perpetual smile. He sat on Teddy’s lap, cooing and drooling in the manner of most small infants. Occasionally, he emitted a garbled word or two. Gracie played on the floor with Mrs Whybrew. Mrs Whybrew was a frank, chatty female whom Faith instantly liked. She seemed to have developed a certain adaptive pattern of habits, or possibly pseudo-supernatural abilities, being the only female in the household. Well, her and Gracie. Faith hoped they could be friends; they would likely need to form an alliance.
An hour or so after sunset, as was right and proper, Lord Falmouth descended the staircase and entered his drawing room with both hands extended in welcome.
“Miss Wigglesworth, delighted to find you here!” Biffy drew her forwards to bestow a kiss upon either cheek in a manner that young people adopted after visiting Europe.
Very modern, thought Faith, pleased by the familial intimacy.
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to officially welcome you to my home as a soon-to-be pack member. Things couldn’t have turned out better. Really, they couldn’t. I am so very pleased.”
Faith blushed and wanted to hug him but thought maybe that was taking things too far. We might get there eventually, she hoped. The werewolves seemed a physically affectionate lot. Always bumping into each other and throwing arms about shoulders.
Biffy grinned. “Have you come to inspect the place? I assure you Lyall runs a tight ship. Although he’ll be delighted to shunt some of the household burdens onto you. He is eager to resume the full scope of his former duties at BUR. Were you aware that he was once an investigator with them?”
Faith shook her had. “I thought Major Channing…”
“Ah, no, Channing took over from Lord Maccon. Lyall held the secondary position, but he has been away these twenty years and his post has remained vacant. The two of them have already departed for Fleet Street, as a matter of fact. First thing this evening out the back of the house. Didn’t smell you here, I’m afraid. Terrible hurry. Something to do with Channing’s current case. It’s giving him some stick. Lyall has an excellent nose, you know?”
Minnie gave a little squeak.
Biffy’s attention shifted to her. “And who have we here?”
“This is my maid, Minnie. I’m sorry to say we need to speak to Major Channing right away.”
“Ah, the eager bride.”
Faith tried to give Biffy a significant look that neither Teddy nor Mrs Iftercast could see. “It is a matter of urgent business. Very particular business.”
Biffy looked impressed. “Oh, is it, indeed? My, but you are full of surprises, lovely Faith. Urgent, you say? Well, if you will allow some of the other pack to entertain you, I’ll go fetch him back myself. I could use a run. It’s getting on towards full moon, we all get a little restless about this time of the month. But we will tell you all about that sort of thing later. Don’t want to keep you waiting.”
Biffy was clearly eager to hear her information but guessed that she’d speak only to Channing.
He bowed himself out of the drawing room. As if this were some sort of signal, Mr Quinn, Mr Ditmarsh, and Mr Hemming came in. Quinn and Hemming clearly wanted some time with the pack’s children before they were put to bed.
Quinn lifted Robbie up out of Teddy’s lap and swung him high. The boy squealed in delight.
“How’s my little man?” He buried his face in Robbie’s round tummy and made a steam engine noise.
Robbie shrieked in laughter.
Hemming scooped up Gracie and took her on a dirigible float, as he called it. This involved Gracie lying splayed on his stretched-out arms while he bobbed about the room, making a whooshing noise.
Mrs Whybrew said to Faith, “Aren’t they ridiculous?”
Faith said, “I think it’s adorable.”
Mr Ditmarsh came to stand next to them, shaking his head. “Big, fearsome werewolf brutes indeed. Should this get out, the pack’s reputation would be in ruins.”
Faith and Teddy both grinned.
Mr Ditmarsh looked at them in all seriousness. “Miss Wigglesworth, Miss Iftercast, we depend upon you not to breathe a word of this to anyone.”
Teddy and Faith exchanged amused nods.
“We will take it to the grave,” vowed Faith.
Teddy giggled as Hemming and Gracie bobbed by her.
Mrs Whybrew rolled her eyes. “Oh, now, boys! Don’t you go an’ rile them up so afore bed. Get along now, take the ladies away and feed them. Leave me to my business, do!”
At the nanny’s insistence, the gentlemen put the babies down and filed out, leading Faith and her cousins into the dining room.
There, Faith and the Iftercasts sipped tea and nibbled bread-and-butter sandwiches while the werewolves, and those few clavigers still around, ate vast quantities of roast mutton and chopped liver on toast and tried not to be too bawdy, although it was clearly a trial for them.
Faith was in heaven. It was fun. They were fun.
Minnie stayed with the children in the guise of helping put them to bed. Faith hoped that her keeping busy would put her mind at ease. It wasn’t entirely effective; Minnie eventually slipped into the dining hall to stand in one corner, clutching her sewing tool kit and watching the raucous werewolves with wide, fearful eyes.
Teddy stretched over at one point to grab the butter, almost across Mr Zev, who was leaning far back in his chair in order to throw a roll at Mr Bluebutton for being “that much more of a pompous twig than usual.” Teddy’s own breach of etiquette was wholly disregarded (except by her mother, who glared and hissed, “Theodora, resume your proper seat this instant!”).
Another bun flew across the table at Zev and missed Teddy only because she lurched aside to hiss at Faith, “Do you think this is what goes on at a gentlemen’s club? Oh, would you look at Mums! She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I guess they were very much on their best behavior when we were all here for dinner before.”
Faith swallowed down a grin. “Either that or the absence of the three top-ranking wolves leaves a vacancy in proper conduct.”
“Oh, do you think? Of course. That is possible.”
Mr Ditmarsh gave them a wink.
Oops, thought Faith, supernatural hearing, I forgot.
“Sadly, ladies, we are always like this. Lyall threatened us with turnips for a week if we didn’t behave when you first dined with us.”