12th August, 1895 — Chevalier House, Bartonburg
Usually, Barnaby entertained some boundaries towards Miss Chevalier, because he owed it to her, as a friend – but occasionally he was simply so maddeningly bored that he had to exist somewhere, and Miss Chevalier’s company was among the best.
He had grown to know her well enough that he did not much care for her family, however; and he did not think she was greatly fond of her stepmother either, but fortunately this morning most of the family had gone out. Barnaby had watched them leave – because, admittedly, Barnaby had been lurking in their parlour since about four in the morning for want of anything else to do, and had already meticulously examined the inner workings of a ticking clock, memorised an open page of a stray encyclopedia, and given the housekeeper carrying her a breakfast tray a rather good shock, before Tabitha had rejoined the living. (Ha.)
He was in better spirits now for her presence, although still as restless and unquiet as the dead could be. “I know you are not working today,” Barnaby observed, a little wheedling (he knew her schedule as well as she did, of course, for their walks to and fro), “but have you really no errands to run? No eager callers? Nothing exciting to do?” He wanted sorely for entertainment, and required her to provide it. He knew she was not the most sociable sort – prone to harassment as she was – but surely there was more to her life than this.
He had grown to know her well enough that he did not much care for her family, however; and he did not think she was greatly fond of her stepmother either, but fortunately this morning most of the family had gone out. Barnaby had watched them leave – because, admittedly, Barnaby had been lurking in their parlour since about four in the morning for want of anything else to do, and had already meticulously examined the inner workings of a ticking clock, memorised an open page of a stray encyclopedia, and given the housekeeper carrying her a breakfast tray a rather good shock, before Tabitha had rejoined the living. (Ha.)
He was in better spirits now for her presence, although still as restless and unquiet as the dead could be. “I know you are not working today,” Barnaby observed, a little wheedling (he knew her schedule as well as she did, of course, for their walks to and fro), “but have you really no errands to run? No eager callers? Nothing exciting to do?” He wanted sorely for entertainment, and required her to provide it. He knew she was not the most sociable sort – prone to harassment as she was – but surely there was more to her life than this.
