Her Ladyship's Companion (16 page)

Lady Dorothy tapped her fingertips on the tabletop. “It never ceases to amaze me how little control some people exercise over their emotions.” She added prosaically, “If you intend to send those letters rather than use them to light fires, I suggest you cease crumpling them in that careless manner.”

Melissa glanced down in surprise to find that she’d almost demolished the letter she’d been writing, crushing it in her fist. “I’ll have to rewrite it, I’m afraid,” she said shakily. She smoothed it out flat on the table. “Lady Dorothy,” she began desperately, “there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know quite how to begin.”

“Hush, child,” Lady Dorothy said admonishingly. “Do your work, and we’ll talk about all that later. This isn’t the time or place. We’re all too much upset by this rain. Giles has spoken to me already, so I know what you’re going to say. But let it wait. We’ll work it out later. Now, about this reply to Berry’s.” She changed the subject firmly.

Melissa wondered what Giles had been saying. Not the truth, obviously, or she’d find herself out in the driveway with her satchels under her arm.

The country people say that when you mention the devil by name, you invite him into the parlor. Giles evidently shared at least one trait with the devil. Hearing himself mentioned, he poked his head in the door.

“You called?”

“No, I didn’t,” Lady Dorothy said positively. “Go away and leave us alone. I have work to do yet today, and I don’t think Miss Rivenwood is in any mood to be bothered by you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of bothering anyone,” Giles said meekly, and came into the parlor. “I’d tackle either of you alone, but I won’t take you on as a team. Do you mind if I join you for tea?”

“If you promise to behave yourself.” Some unspoken message passed between aunt and nephew.

The sound of heavy feet in the hallway cut off further conversation. Nanny Babcock, her usually placid face distorted by distress, stumbled into the room.

“My lady!” she gasped. “Oh, Mr. Tarsin.” She was distraught. Lady Dorothy was on her feet at once and put an arm around her in concern. “I’m dreadfully worried.” The nanny was wringing her hands. “I didn’t know whether to come down or not. He didn’t come in for tea. Something’s terribly wrong.”

“What is it?” Melissa felt sickening apprehension. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Robbie, of course,” Giles said furiously. “Damn the boy. I told him to stay inside today. If this is another one of his japes, I’ll flay the skin right off him.”

Nanny Babcock became, if anything, even more agitated. “No, not that, please don’t punish the boy. I’m foolish to worry. It’s just that I’m so afraid something might have happened to him. All this dreadful thunder.” Even as she spoke, there was another crash, and the nanny clapped her hands over her ears.

“Robbie will be fine,” Giles said, laying a hand soothingly on Nanny Babcock’s shoulder. “Come now, don’t cry, Nanny. I’ll fetch him back to you.”

“Oh, Master Giles, promise not to beat him, please!” she pleaded piteously. “I’d hate to think I brought it on him.”

“He’s brought it on himself. A beating won’t hurt the boy. It’d take more than that,” Giles said grimly. “Quickly, Nanny, tell me where you think he’s gone.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” the nanny wailed. “I thought he was with Jamie Hobson mucking about in the stables, and I sent Becky down to bring him back for tea. But she says Jamie’s been inside all day, scrubbing the pantry. And Robbie’s been gone since early, before the rain. He missed breakfast, lunch, and now he’s not here for tea. He’s never done that before.”

“He’s been missing since early this morning?” Giles said in a cold, oddly precise voice.

“Since before I was up. He’s done it before, but he always comes back for lunch. Oh, please, Master Giles, I don’t like to keep boys too close. They need to run a little wild. I’ve never kept my boys caged up too tight. You remember that.”

“I do indeed.” Giles’s face softened a little as he looked at the old woman.

“You don’t suppose he’s been struck by lightning, do you?” she cried suddenly.

“Lightning? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous, Nanny. He’s probably wandered over into the east wing and fallen asleep on one of the guest beds over a book. Or else he’s out in the stables, snug and dry, learning to spit through his missing tooth with one of Hobson’s rascal crew. I’ll have him back to you in no time.”

Lady Dorothy rang the bell for Betty. Giles brushed past her as he left. “Excuse me, Aunt. I’m going to settle this thing.”

“Would you like me to bring up the tea things?” Betty asked genially as she came in. The servants regarded the rain rather in the nature of a treat since most of their usual activities ceased. One of the housemaids was having hysterics in the comfort of the kitchen from terror of the lightning, adding to the holiday atmosphere belowstairs. “I’ll bring you some of those nice seed cakes.”

“Wait.” Melissa stopped her. “There’s some trouble with Robbie. He’s gone off someplace. Are you sure he hasn’t been down to the kitchen at all? Nanny’s dreadfully upset.”

“So I see.” Betty looked dubiously at Nanny Babcock. “No, he’s been nowhere about. I’d have sent him right about his business if he were underfoot today, I’ll tell you that.”

“Take Susan and Becky and search the rooms in the east wing,” Lady Dorothy ordered concisely. “And tell Bedford to wait on me here.”

“I worry about Robbie,” Nanny Babcock confided to Melissa with the air of one imparting a closely guarded secret, “though sure enough he can take care of himself. But I’m like a hen with one chick. I had him from the month, that I did, and his father before him, poor man.
  

He was a seven months’ child, Robbie was. Nothing ready for him. And so tiny. I could hold him in my hand. Such a delicate child.”

She was about to go into tedious detail of how delicate that redheaded cyclone of nervous energy still was. Melissa said quickly, “He’s dreadfully thoughtless to stay away this long. But he’s only a boy. He probably lost track of time.”

“Time, yes.” Then Nanny surprised her with a markedly shrewd statement. “But I’ve never known him to lose track of three meals in a row. If I thought he’d been down in the kitchen, that’s different. They’d be glad enough to feed him down there. Spoiling his appetite likely as not with those rich foods. And the language he picks up there! Anyone would think he was one of these Cornish savages when he comes back talking like that.”

“Would he have gone out, do you think?” Melissa prompted.

“It was fine this morning when he left. Just cloudy a bit. And the wind. I think maybe he’s gone out riding. That Hobson will do anything for him, even put him up on one of those great dirty horses of his. He’s supposed to stay on his little pony. I don’t mind that. She’s old, his pony. Has more sense than Robbie does. But if he was on a horse, it could have bolted with him.”

“I’m sure Hobson would have more sense than that.”

“I hope so.” Nanny grew alarmed again. “But there’s been all this rain and thunder, and he hasn’t come back. And I had Anna on my hands, messing about in the schoolroom. She’s always got something spiteful to say. I’m surprised her spit doesn’t poison her. I wish I’d had the rearing of the girl. I’d have cured that nasty tongue of hers. As if I could follow Robbie around day and night or keep him under lock and key.”

“Of course not,” Melissa said soothingly.

Nanny twisted her hands together in her apron. “You don’t think anything could have happened to him? He might have got himself shut up into a closet somewhere or in one of those empty attics. They do say that the floors over in the east wing have got the dry rot something disgraceful. Mr. Tarsin keeps promising to have the men in to fix them, though not before the harvest season.” She began to weep.

“Don’t be foolish, Nanny,” Lady Dorothy snapped. “This house is simply crawling with servants. We’d hear him if he called out.”

That astringent voice did what all Melissa’s soothing had failed to accomplish. Nanny Babcock pulled herself together and said in a more reasonable manner, “Then where shall we look for him, my lady?”

“We may assume the boy hasn’t hidden himself to worry us all with some asinine prank,” the dowager announced.

“Oh, no. Robbie would never do that.” Melissa broke in involuntarily. Lady Dorothy, far from being offended, just nodded.

“Then he’ll be found either in the stables in a short time or in one of the farmhouses later on this evening. We all shall look very silly when he crawls out from under a haystack and asks us what all the fuss is about.”

Her mordant announcements worked wonders. Melissa immediately felt that her fears were stupid after all.

“Nanny, get back upstairs and try not to worry anymore.” Lady Dorothy’s hands might be thin and streaked with pale blue veins, trembling a little when they moved, but they were still extremely capable. She had Nanny out of her chair and out of the room in two minutes flat. “I’ll send him to you the moment we find him.”

Melissa felt much better. Of course. Robbie had gone out to one of the tenant farms. How would a boy of seven be expected to predict that a storm would blow up so suddenly? He was even now tucked safe under the eaves of one of those little cottages by the road, surfeited to sickness on pastry and apple cider, never dreaming that his absence would raise the least alarm.

Bedford came in. In the gray light from the window his face had a curiously ashen hue.

“So there you are,” Lady Dorothy said unemotionally. “Have you finished searching the stables?”

“Mr. Giles and Mr. Pangborn are doing that now,” the butler said quietly. He added, “Hobson hasn’t seen Master Robbie all day.”

“His pony?”

“In his stall.”

“And none of the tenants has sent word he’s at their house?”

“No, my lady.”

“They would, you know.”

“Yes, my lady. At once.”

“Missing since very early, perhaps as early as five or six in the morning.”

“I’ve sent messengers to the nearer houses, Crawley’s, Penwaller, Tregarth’s. We may hear something. Master Robbie might have been there and left for home, gotten caught by the storm, be under cover somewhere. They’ll be sending men.”

Melissa felt fear slither about in the pit of her stomach.

“High tide was at one o’clock,” Lady Dorothy said. There was no particular emotion in her voice. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly. The tide was low when the boy went out early in the morning. It came in full force a few hours later.

“Spring tides, my lady,” Bedford commented. The highest tides of the month. Could a seven-year-old be expected to remember that many of the caves that were safe a week ago would be deadly now?

“And the storm, too,” Lady Dorothy said elliptically. The wind from the sea would be lashing the waves even higher. The rocks on the path at the cliff top would be slippery with rain and salt spray. Mud slides would cut off the paths upward.

“We’ll have light for two hours yet,” Bedford said. The gloom was already thickening outside the parlor window. The clouds were robbing them of hours of daylight.

“Have the maids go through the house thoroughly,” Lady Dorothy ordered. “The cellars, the attics, the old wing. Take some of the dogs; they’ll be no good outside.” Rain would have destroyed any trace of the boy’s tracks long since. “Fix the lanterns. And borrow some from that tavern in Wheatcross. In a few hours it’ll be low tide again.” When the water retreated from the sea caves, what could they expect to find? “See that there’s food for the men laid out in the kitchen and strong tea. Miss Rivenwood and I will have dinner on a tray here. The others will eat in their rooms. Don’t let any of those boys from the stables go down on the cliffs. We don’t want any accidents.”

“Very well, my lady.” Bedford bowed and left the room. Melissa heard swift footsteps in the hall, quite unlike Bedford’s usual dignified stroll.

Lady Dorothy seated herself near the fire. From one of the ever-present sewing baskets she selected a piece of embroidery. “Please bring that work candle closer to me, Melissa,” she said. “I’m having trouble seeing my work.”

Melissa complied. She stood watching the old woman sew. She said, “He wouldn’t have gone down to the cliffs this morning, not alone.” Lady Dorothy gave no sign she’d heard. “The sea was whipped up by that storm even early this morning. Everything must have been wet and cold already.” Melissa stopped. When had a little water ever stopped Robbie? The rocks would have been wet all right. Wet enough to make Robbie slip and fall, perhaps hurt himself so badly he couldn’t climb up above the approaching tide.

“Sit down, Melissa. I need a copy of the linen list. It’s over there on the little writing desk.” Lady Dorothy lifted kind, wise, bleak eyes.

Melissa went woodenly and picked up the list. She sat down at the table. She began to copy neatly in a row: Upstairs, south, front, red; seven monogrammed, linen, perfect; three monogrammed, linen, patched. Upstairs, south, middle, blue; three monogrammed, linen, perfect.

In the parlor there was only the sound of the rain, the clock ticking, and the steady scratch of a quill pen on paper.

Chapter 14

There are great cliffs, sometimes fifty feet high or more. Robbie goes to play there with the stableboys, jumping across the rocks like a cricket. Giles Tarsin says he won’t have the boy frightened of scenery and encourages it.

Excerpt from the letter of Melissa Rivenwood to Cecilia Luffington, June 30, 1818

Darkness fell all too swiftly. The riders returned from the neighboring farms. There was no longer any comfortable explanation for Robbie’s absence. Unable to stay still, Melissa prowled the corridors of Vinton. She ended in the long gallery at the top of the house. Outside, in the darkness, in the distance, she could see the lanterns of the searchers strung along the cliffside like jewels on a string. They were still combing the caves and crags in the face of the rising tide, giving up the rocks foot by reluctant foot to the sea again, with Robbie still unfound. She could hear the dogs barking excitedly in their kennels. The house was very silent.