Chapter Nineteen

T he following morning, Yves wanted to know all about the ball, delaying the start of their lessons, which was no doubt what he intended. “Patience gave me the medicine, just like Bridget does. She said Bridget insisted she had to give it me, or she’d be in deep trouble.”

“Did it taste the same as normal? I mean, like my medicine, not Bridget’s?” Caroline still nurtured the fear that Bridget or Mrs. Treloar might decide to add more laudanum to the bottle, unbeknownst to her.

He nodded. “Just the same as yours. But I pretended I didn’t like it, just like you said. I didn’t have to pretend all that much because it still doesn’t taste nice, only in a diff’rent way. Patience got cross and threatened to tell Bridget how naughty I’d been if I didn’t take it.” He chuckled. “So, I took it in the end, but only after I’d made a big fuss.”

They were eating a later than usual breakfast together with Mrs. Teague and Dash, who sat under the table awaiting the scraps from Yves’s plate.

Yves passed the dog the rind from his bacon. “Can I bring Dash upstairs to the schoolroom today? He doesn’t like being left down here.”

Caroline laughed. “You know that’s not a good excuse. He loves being down here with Mrs. Teague, getting all the tidbits she gives him.” However, she wasn’t in the mood for an argument after barely two hours sleep. “But, as a special treat, he can come upstairs with you. So long as he sits quietly by your feet while you do your lessons.”

Yves bounced in his seat. “Yes! Thank you, Caroline. I’m sure he’ll help me concentrate really well on my Latin verbs. He’s a very classical dog, you know.”

Caroline snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Dash’s presence, of course, did not lead to the best of concentration from her pupil, as he would keep bending down to pet Dash. However, Caroline, who’d been brought up around dogs and liked the little spaniel, chose to overlook these lapses. Yves was an intelligent child with an aptitude for study, so what did one day of digression matter?

The clock on the mantelpiece at last struck midday, which marked the end of lessons, and from outside on the corridor came the patter of Patience’s footsteps carrying up the dinner tray, the crockery rattling as she hurried. It would probably be something small accompanied by more boiled cabbage, a vegetable Mrs. Treloar seemed convinced promoted childhood growth. However, with a substantial plate of bacon and eggs inside them both, that didn’t matter.

Yves began to put his books away in his desk.

Caroline waited until he’d finished, which wasn’t long as he was shoving them in pell-mell. She cleared her throat. “Yves?”

He looked up, a little worried frown on his forehead as though he suspected she might be about to delay his rush for food, meager and uninteresting as it was. “Yes, Caroline?” Of course, as the lessons were over now, he could call her by her first name.

“Do you often visit your grandfather?”

He closed his desk with a bang. “Quite often. He likes me to read to him. But I haven’t been up to his room since you arrived, and he hasn’t sent for me.” He paused. “He sleeps an awful lot.”

Of course he would. The laudanum to add to Yves’s medicine had come from his room. From his nurse perhaps, as he was being dosed with it as well.

Feeling a little manipulative, Caroline continued. “I would very much like to meet your grandfather, as I’ve now met everyone in your family but him. Do you think you could take me up and introduce me to him after we’ve taken our dinner?”

He pulled a face. “I was thinking we could walk down to the stream and sail my boat.” He fished a small wooden boat with red sails out of the desk where he must have been hiding it all morning. “It’s a smuggler’s boat loaded with tea and brandy, you know.” He tried a winning smile. As he was a handsome little boy, the effect was comely.

“Perhaps a short visit to your grandfather beforehand?”

He shrugged. “I suppose so. He’s prob’ly been missing me. He says I make him laugh. He says he only laughs with me. He’s very old, you know. Nearly as old as Aunt Agnes and she must be at least a hundred .”

“I don’t think many people get to be a hundred, so I doubt if your Aunt Agnes and your grandfather are that old. In fact, I’m sure someone mentioned that your grandfather was nearing ninety.”

He shrugged. “Aunt Agnes is a bit… well, she’s a bit odd .”

“She’s just old. Er, is your grandfather at all like that?” She needed him to have his wits about him if he were to render her any help. If he could, that was, from the confines of his bed. How much under Mrs. Treloar’s control was he?

Yves screwed up his nose. “And she’s a bit smelly. So is Grandpapa. He has a nurse to look after just him, all the time, that Aunt Ruth got for him. Rodgers. But she’s horrid, like Bridget, and I think she might be a man in a dress. She doesn’t like me coming to see Grandpapa.” He paused, head tilted to one side as though listening, and Caroline smothered a chuckle at his thoughts on the unfortunate Rodgers. “D’you think Bridget might be a man, too? She walks like one and she has a bit of a mustache. I don’t think Rodgers looks after Grandpapa properly otherwise he wouldn’t be smelly. When Roskilly’s mine, I’ll make sure he’s looked after properly.”

Caroline, still fighting the impulse to laugh, forbore pointing out that for Roskilly to belong to Yves, his grandfather would have to be dead.

“Come along,” she said, rising to her feet. “We’d better go and eat our dinner or it’ll be cold and the tea will be stewing, and Patience will be taking it all back downstairs.”

After dinner was eaten and not a speck remained nor a drop of water in the teapot, Yves led Caroline, with Dash padding at their heels, out into the main house. All was quiet with no sign of any other member of the family. Presumably they were eating either in the dining room or the parlor, as their midday meal would only be a light luncheon, with their dinner in the evening, when Yves would get another helping of bread and butter for his supper. Or maybe an egg if he were lucky and Mrs. Teague could smuggle one upstairs past Bridget’s eagle eye.

Yves took Caroline’s hand. “This way. Grandpapa’s room is down here.”

She let him lead her down another corridor past several closed doors until they reached the end.

Yves halted, leaning close to whisper. “We have to knock, and then that horrid Miss Rodgers will come, clumping in her man’s boots.”

Caroline obliged.

After a long wait, the door opened to reveal Miss Rodgers. The discontented expression on her bony face implied she’d lost a sovereign and found a farthing. Or that she’d just drunk sour milk. Or that she’d trodden in something unpleasant. Most likely all three. “Yes?” she said, her accusing gaze running over Yves and Caroline.

“We’ve come to see Grandpapa,” Yves said, who was not given to beating about the bush. “Let us in.”

By his side, Dash wagged his tail in enthusiastic corroboration.

Miss Rodgers’s deep-set and already slitty eyes narrowed still further. “Sir Hugh is resting.”

Yves, being shorter than Caroline had a better view into the room. “No, he’s not,” he said. “I can see him sitting up in bed.”

“He’s about to be resting,” Miss Rodgers almost snarled. Had she been told not to let them in?

“Who’s that at the door?” called a querulous voice. “Is that my little Yves?”

“Grandpapa!” Yves dived under Miss Rodgers’s hammy arm and raced into the room, closely followed by Dash, barking in excitement. Miss Rodgers made a belated grab for him and missed, but in so doing vacated the door space she’d been blocking. Caroline took advantage by stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Miss Rodgers gave a growl of fury and interposed herself again between Caroline and the bed, hands on hips and legs akimbo. “Strictly no dogs in here.”

The old man sitting propped up in the bed was made of stern stuff though. “Rodgers,” he snapped, sounding far less querulous than before. “Let the girl through. I’ve a mind to see a prettier face than yours. And that wouldn’t be difficult. Get out of her way. And if I want the dog in here, I’ll have it in here. Off you go and do something else.”

Rodgers moved out of the way but not without bestowing a threatening glare on Caroline. She moved over to the side of the room from where she had a good view of the bed and stood, arms now folded, glaring at Caroline and Yves.

Yves jumped up onto the bed with the air of someone very much at home in the sick room, and so did the agile Dash. He sat holding his grandfather’s hand in his while the old man petted the little dog with his free hand.

“Fetch up a chair, my dear,” the old man said. “Come and sit beside me so I can see you properly. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Caroline glanced around until her gaze fell on an upright chair which she carried over to the bed. She sat on it, close, but not too close, as that would have been too forward of her.

“That’s better,” the old man said, his blue eyes, just like those Nat, Hetty, and Yves shared, twinkling in a roguish manner. “Now I can see you. And what a pretty girl you are.”

Well, perhaps he couldn’t see her quite that well. Caroline had no pretensions to the kind of prettiness Ysella and Hetty possessed, although Kit had once called her striking.

The old man freed his hand from Yves’s grasp and waved it at Rodgers. “What’re you waiting for, woman? I told you once already. You can go. My grandson will keep me company and this fine young lady. I’ll send Yves to find you before they go.”

Rodgers scowled even more, but she left, banging the door behind her as she went.

“That’s better,” the old man said with a sigh. “Can’t stand the woman, but she’s good at her job, and strong with it. I can’t get about the way I used to, and she’s more than capable of picking me up when the occasion arises.” He gave a chuckle. “Sadly, I’m not the man I was.” He held up a bony wrist. “I seem to have wasted away to nothing.” He patted Yves’s hand. “Now introduce me to your new friend, child.”

Yves obliged. “She’s Caroline Fairfield, my governess now, after Aunt Ruth got rid of poor Miss Hawkins.”

The old man’s eyes sharpened. “Miss Hawkins was a good governess.”

Yves nodded. “She was. But Aunt Ruth made her go. And Hester.” He grinned at Caroline. “Caroline is really nice, though. It’s just that Bridget isn’t. She’s head nursery maid now Hester’s gone and she makes me take horrible medicine .” He managed a disgusted sneer.

The old man held a trembling hand out to Caroline, his gaze penetrating. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Fairfield.”

“You have to call her Caroline,” Yves interjected. “I do when we’re not in lessons and so does Hetty. Miss Fairfield is too unfriendly sounding. That was why I used to call Miss Hawkins Hawkie. Much more friendly that Miss Hawkins.”

The old man raised his eyebrows. “Might I follow my grandson’s lead and use your first name also?”

Caroline nodded. “I should be honored if you would.” How was she ever going to get a private word with Sir Hugh with Yves in such close attendance? He and Dash looked very much settled on the bed. The little spaniel had rolled over onto his back to have his stomach rubbed and Yves was lounging back, leaning on his hands, as though nothing would budge him.

“Now, Caroline,” Sir Hugh said with a smile that reminded her of the undamaged half of his other grandson’s face. “Tell me all about yourself and how a young lady such as you comes to be such a scamp’s governess.”

This took a while and Caroline didn’t divulge all of what she’d told Nat. Not that she wanted to hide it from Sir Hugh, but rather because she didn’t want Yves exposed to that sad tale. She managed to intersperse the story with a few choice anecdotes from her life at Cadley that had both members of her audience laughing.

At last, an idea came to her. “Sir Hugh,” she began, “would you like a tray of tea brought up? And maybe some cakes?”

He snorted with laughter. “Do I look like I drink milksop tea? A glass of brandy would suit me better, but Rodgers refuses to let me have any.”

Brandy. Could she send Yves to find some? Perhaps to ask Dickon to bring it up? If Mrs. Treloar found out, and find out she would as Rodgers was bound to tell her, trouble would ensue. She’d have to be firm. “The best I can offer is coffee, I’m afraid.”

He pulled a discontented face, all of a sudden childlike. “If that’s all that’s on offer, then I suppose I’ll take it. Ring for Dickon or Ennion and we’ll get them to send a tray up.”

“I’ll go and get it,” Yves said, sliding off the bed. The contented Dash, who was still having his stomach scratched, made no move to follow him.

Caroline couldn’t have asked for more. “I’ll have coffee as well, and perhaps you could ask Mrs. Teague to send up some cakes. No running. I don’t want you falling down the stairs because you’re in a needless hurry.”

Yves ran to the door.

“Remember. No running.”

He shot her a cheeky glance and disappeared through it, leaving it open.

Caroline went and closed it. She’d have to be quick, although more than likely Yves would seize this opportunity to eat something in the kitchen with Mrs. Teague while the coffee was prepared.

She turned back to Sir Hugh, suddenly very afraid. She was about to confide her fears in him, and he might well pass them on to the very people she didn’t want to know about them. Especially if he didn’t believe her. Did she even believe it herself?

“Sir Hugh, might I speak frankly to you?”

His eyes narrowed, all childishness fled. “You sound very serious, my dear.”

“I am. It’s a serious matter.”

“I see it must be for you to have to wait until the child’s not here. Go on. I’m listening.”

“I don’t really know how to begin, so I’ll just come out and say it. I’m afraid Yves is in danger.”

He regarded her in silence for a moment, the intelligence in his eyes sharp and clear. “I shall not do you the injustice of asking you from what he is in danger.”

What? “You knew?”

He nodded. “I suspected. Miss Hawkins came to me with her worries, but she had no proof of malicious intent. I listened, but it was already too late for her to do anything. She only came to see me once and was gone by the next day. Dismissed for bad conduct, Rodgers told me when I asked. With unmitigated glee, I might add. She seemed positively triumphant about the misfortune of others. I get all my news that way or from the children. Ruth rarely graces me with her presence. She stays away from the sickroom and has her minion, Rodgers, do her bidding. If that woman chose to smother me in my sleep, there’s nothing I could do to stop her.”

A new fear surfaced in Caroline’s head. “Do you think she might?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past her. The woman has the build and strength of an ox.”

“I think Bridget is in Mrs. Treloar’s pay as well.”

“The boy’s nursery nurse?”

“The same. A few days ago, I found Yves was falling asleep in his lessons. He’d been given some new ‘medicine’ the night before by Bridget. When she was eating her lunch in the servants’ hall, I sneaked into her room and found where it was hidden. It was something that contains laudanum, but in small quantities. I think they’ve been adding more laudanum to the bottle, or it wouldn’t have had such a strong effect on him.”

Sir Hugh bowed his head. “And I’ve no need to ask where they’ve been getting the laudanum from.” He paused, his eyes clouding. “I take it to manage my pain, and at nights to help me sleep. Rodgers administers it. It’s the only way for me to get a night’s unbroken sleep, and I can’t manage without it.” He put a hand up to rub his eyes. “Where is the boy’s medicine now?”

“I swapped the contents for some harmless tonic I purchased in Penzance. Where quite by chance Yves and I met Miss Hawkins who has found herself a position as companion to an elderly lady in the town. She confided her own suspicions, but there’s little she can do from there. It falls to me to keep Yves safe, and I’m very much worried that I don’t know how to do that.” Caroline bit her lip. “I swapped the contents of the bottle, as I said, but when that runs out, there’ll be another bottle and that one will have laudanum in it, maybe even more than before, if they think the first doses weren’t working. I was reprimanded for taking Yves to Penzance, so I doubt very much whether I can go again, and I’ve no way of getting word to Miss Hawkins, or the local constable. I can’t go on my own and leave Yves unguarded.”

Sir Hugh snorted. “Much good the local constable would do you. He’s an oaf.”

Caroline leaned forward in her seat. “Which is why I’ve come to you, two heads being better than one. I know you’re handicapped by being confined to bed, but can you see a way out of this for us, without Yves ending up… dead?”

Sir Hugh reached out and caught her hand. “You must play your cards tight to your chest, Caroline, for I’m sure now, with what Miss Hawkins told me and what you’ve just said, that your suspicions are correct. My younger son’s wife has always resented that she didn’t marry my boy Robert, or perhaps the resentment was caused because Robert provided us with his own heir before he died. With Lowenna losing so many babies before they reached full term, Ruth must have thought he’d never get a living child.”

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

Sir Hugh tightened his grip on her hand. “Return tomorrow at the same time, but come alone, if you can. We need to talk. Insist that Rodgers lets you in. Don’t take no for an answer.”

The door opened and Yves entered, accompanied by Dickon carrying a tray. On it sat a jug of coffee, two small cups, and a plate of cakes. Telltale crumbs decorated Yves’s mouth and the front of his skeleton suit. He’d plainly eaten some of the cakes while he waited for the coffee.

He ran across the room and jumped onto the bed again. “Rock cakes,” he announced. “Delicious.”