Chelsea elected to remain in her bedchamber the remainder of the day. Dulcie brought up a tray for their dinner that evening, and as they ate she expressed her concern for Chelsea's distress. "Shouldn't be overlong before Miss Marchmont returns to the castle now, miss." "I hope so," Chelsea murmured. "Wot do you think . . . he'll do, miss?" Dulcie asked, a bit fearfully. Chelsea smiled sadly. "I haven't a clue, Dulcie. I try not to think about it." "Wot did Miss Marchmont say, I mean, in her letter?" Chelsea glanced up from the crust of bread she was nibbling on. "You know about the letter?" Dulcie nodded. "Don't nothin' escape the household staff, miss. Her ladyship got a letter and a package today." "Hmm." They continued to eat the small meal in silence. At length, Chelsea pushed away from the table. "You done, miss?" Chelsea nodded. "You may have my pudding and the biscuit, if you like." Dulcie's eyes lit up. "Thank you, miss." After Dulcie had quitted the room, carrying the supper tray with her, Chelsea walked absently to the narrow slit of window in her suite and peered out.
