Gillian gave the note to Meacham and begged him to deliver it to her uncle before Silas went downstairs for dinner. “And Meacham,” she said as she pressed the note into his hand, “please do not let Stanley or Lord George Canfield see you giving this to my uncle.” Meacham studied her strained face a moment before nodding and saying, “The master is currently in his dressing room—I shall deliver it to him immediately ... and wait for any reply.” “Oh Meacham, thank you!” While Sophia placidly plied her needle on a piece of embroidery, Gillian paced the confines of the sitting room waiting for Meacham’s return. Fortunately for the state of the blue and cream rug beneath her feet, Meacham was not gone more than ten minutes. At the knock on the door, Gillian leaped across the room to answer it. Seeing Meacham standing there, she dragged him inside the room and shut the door. “No one saw you?” she asked. “No one, Madame,” he said. A look of distaste flitted across his face.
