Chapter Twenty-Eight

C aroline found Hetty still with her grandfather, but Yves and Dash had gone. She’d been reading aloud to him but the old man had nodded off, and Hetty had moved over to the window and was sitting reading to herself when Caroline stole in on tiptoe.

“Where’s Yves gone?” Caroline whispered, with a glance at the bed, but Sir Hugh didn’t stir. His grandchildren must have tired him out. That, and the worry about Nat. Or the laudanum. The worry that she didn’t know how it worked bothered Caroline.

Hetty closed her book and rose to her feet, the evening sunlight dancing in her rich auburn hair. “Yves said this book was boring and he wanted to go outside. I couldn’t stop him.” She didn’t sound worried, though. But then, she didn’t know about the conspiracy. A conspiracy Caroline felt had grown much more real since Nat’s accident.

“Do you know where he went?”

Hetty shrugged. “Where does he always go? The kitchens in search of food. I swear that boy has hollow legs. And he never gets any fatter, which is most unfair.”

“Shall we leave Sir Hugh to sleep? Come along. And it’s time you did some more piano practice—you’ve not done any at all today, what with the chaos going on. Now Nat’s safe and sound, you can do half an hour before you have to get ready for dinner.”

Hetty pulled a face. “If I must.”

Leaving the book behind on Sir Hugh’s bedside table, they tiptoed out of the room and descended the stairs to the quiet front hall. Hetty headed off to the music room, and Caroline took the corridor to the kitchens at the back of the house. Mrs. Teague was in there with Molly the kitchen maid, but there was no sign of Yves.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Teague,” Caroline said. “Have you seen Master Yves?”

Mrs. Teague wiped her greasy hands on her stained apron. “I have that, Miss. He were down here looking for something to eat. When isn’t he, I’d like to say. That boy eats like more’n one horse, I can tell you. I gave him some bread and jam and he spotted Mr. Trefusis passing down the corridor and ran off after him.”

Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. “When was this?”

“’Bout ten minutes gone.”

“Going which way?”

“Out into the stable courtyard.”

Caroline hastened back into the corridor and headed for the back door. That Yves was alone with Trefusis chilled her blood, but surely, surely, he wouldn’t try anything on the day Nat had almost perished? That would look like too much of a coincidence, even for someone as determined as he appeared to be.

She pushed open the door into the stableyard. Empty. Where could they have gone? No sign of either of the Pascoes either. She’d better look in the stables and tack room.

No one there either, just a row of contented horses munching hay.

For a moment nonplused, Caroline stood biting her lip in the wide, arched doorway into the stable block. Could Trefusis have taken Yves off somewhere?

Laughter sounded from beyond the arched gateway of the yard, and Yves came running in, Dash barking at his heels, all by himself.

Caroline let her breath out with a sigh. “Yves, where’ve you been? I’ve been searching for you and thought you’d gone off and got lost like Nat, and I was going to have to get a search party out after you.”

Yves skidded to a halt, a decidedly guilty look on his face. “Nowhere.” Dash bounced around him in excitement, uttering little yips.

“Mrs. Teague told me you went off with Mr. Trefusis.”

Yves regarded his booted feet. “Oh, he’s gone now. He had work to do.”

Why did his attempt at nonchalance sound so stilted? Caroline narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t think of anything else to ask. “Well, it’s nearly time for your supper, and I ought to change for dinner. Although I think I might send my apologies to your aunt and tell her after today I have such a headache, that I’d best eat with you in the schoolroom.” Anything was better than another meal with Mrs. Treloar, Trefusis, and no Nat.

Yves brightened. “I’ll ask Mrs. Teague if she can send up an egg tea for us. I’d like that, and so would you. Come on, Dash.”

Yves extracted the required promise from Mrs. Teague for the egg tea, and she shortly proved as good as her word. A tea of two boiled eggs apiece along with ample bread and butter came upstairs with Patience and was served in the schoolroom with a pot of tea. Quite a banquet by the normal standards of nursery tea. Yves’s slightly reluctant demeanor, as though he was hiding something, vanished, and Caroline dismissed her worries. He might have gone running after Trefusis, but the man hadn’t dared do anything to him.

After tea, Caroline left Yves playing with his toy soldiers on the floor of the nursery and carried the tea tray down to the kitchen. Dinner upstairs was over, and Mrs. Teague made up another tray, also of boiled eggs, bread and butter and tea, for Caroline to take upstairs for Nat.

At precisely seven o’clock, by the striking of the hall clock, she knocked lightly on Nat’s door. No answer. She waited a minute then tapped again. Still no answer. Should she go in? Several not so comforting reasons for his lack of answering flashed through her mind, including the fact that the head wound she’d treated might have been worse than she thought and caused his death, which would undoubtedly lead to her being dismissed on the spot. Or he could be concussed and in a coma. A young man near Cadley had fallen from his horse out hunting and sustained a head wound similar to Nat’s which had resulted in a coma that lasted for nearly a week. And then he’d died.

Fighting to control her nerves, she pushed the door open and went in.

Nat was lying on the bed, not in it, long legs outstretched. Was he dead or in a coma? She approached the bed. What a relief. His chest rose and fell as he breathed and he looked peaceful rather than at death’s door. Although the thought that someone about to die might look peaceful, too, surfaced.

“Nat?” She couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice.

His lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes.

What a deep blue they were, just like those of Yves and Hetty, as blue as the sea on a summer’s day.

He pushed himself up on the bed with a wince as he leaned on his bad shoulder. “Ouch. Caroline. I didn’t think you’d come. I’m sorry. I was asleep.”

She set the tray down on the ornate table beside the window. “You need to eat something. Mrs. Teague did you a tea such as she just sent up to Yves and me.” She wanted to reach out and touch him, but held herself in check. She was the governess, he the son of the house. She must not take liberties.

“That’s very kind of you, and her.” He swung his legs off the bed and padded in stockinged feet over to the table. “This looks excellent and reminds me of nursery tea when I was a boy.”

Caroline couldn’t resist a snort. “We don’t often get eggs for tea in the nursery. Your stepmother seems to think little boys exist on thin air. Well, on thin bread and a scrape of butter.”

He sat down. “She only became like that after my father died. Poor Hetty and Yves. You’ll take tea with me?”

Mrs. Teague had sent two cups. Now why had she done that? Caroline sat down at the table, opposite to Nat, and poured the tea. “Sugar? It’s good in this sort of situation.”

He nodded and winced again. “Three spoonsful.”

She smiled. “Very bad for your teeth.”

He lopped the pointy end off one of the eggs and runny yolk ran down the side. “Just as I like them. And I don’t take three spoonsful normally. I’m just following your advice. We soldiers learn to look after our teeth, thank you.”

Caroline smiled. “As do we governesses.”

He broke off a piece of bread and dunked it in his egg. “The food of the gods.”

She watched him eat, sipping her hot tea. It was the best China tea and very aromatic. He looked much recovered with some color in his cheeks but not too much, and appeared to be using his right arm as much as the left, as though the pain had diminished considerably.

He’d finished the bread and eggs and picked up his cup of tea before she spoke again. “What happened to you?”

His eyes narrowed at her tone. “My girth broke, I assume, or the straps holding it to the saddle. Young Pascoe might be back with it by now. I might go down and look now I’m feeling so much better.” He regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “Bad luck, I assume. Duchess shied, the saddle came loose, I couldn’t save myself and by bad luck I was by a rocky gully. I rolled into it and spent much of the day lying sleeping in the sun, with a broken head and dislocated shoulder.” He wrapped one arm around his chest. “And my ribs feel as though they’ve been well trampled by a herd of wild horses. I thought at first they might be broken, but they’re not. Believe me when I say I know what that feels like.”

“They could be cracked.”

“I doubt it, as it doesn’t hurt too much to breathe. I’ve had broken ribs before and they were worse. I think in all probability they’re just bruised.”

She nodded, catching her bottom lip in her teeth. Dared she say anything to Nat? Would he be horrified at what she was suggesting, or would he be up in arms in defense of Yves, his grandfather, and himself?

Nat rose from the table. “I’ll put some shoes on and we can go down to the stables and see Young Pascoe and that saddle. Would you like to come?” A hopeful glint showed in his eyes, so winning that Caroline smiled at him.

“I would. Where are your shoes, and I’ll fetch them for you.”

With his shoes found and his feet slipped into them, they headed down the corridor to the gallery and from there down the stairs and into the passage to the stableyard. Caroline carried the tea tray to return to Mrs. Teague as they passed.

Young Pascoe was in the kitchen eating his supper, but he jumped to his feet when he saw Caroline and Nat.

Nat waved his free arm at him. “It’s all right, Tom. Sit down and keep eating. I don’t want to disturb you. Miss Fairfield and I are just on our way to the tack room to take a look at that saddle you went to retrieve.”

Tom Pascoe looked guilty and didn’t sit down. “I’m right sorry, Sir. I went and looked where you said it were, but I couldn’t find it not nowhere. I scoured the heather, and I found the gully you was in. There were fresh blood on a boulder from your head, I reckon, but not a sign of no saddle.”

Caroline stiffened. Nat had described exactly where to go, and Tom Pascoe had gone. But he’d had to sort out the flat cart first and no doubt do a few other chores in the stables. How long had the delay been? Long enough for anyone else who’d heard the directions in the hall to go and retrieve the sabotaged saddle. And dispose of it so Nat couldn’t find out what had gone wrong with it.

“Are you sure?” Nat asked, as though he didn’t quite believe Tom.

Young Pascoe nodded. “Proper sure, Sir. I looked around the whole top. I could see where you fell and rolled and hit that rock, right hard. Flattened heather where you’d lain. But no saddle.”

“Might someone have taken advantage and stolen it?” Nat muttered.

Unlikely. Caroline caught his arm. “Thank you, Tom. Shall we go and see how Duchess is faring after her flight?”

Nat went back into the corridor with her and from there out into the yard. Duchess’s loose box was at the far end of the stable block from the tack room. The warm smell of straw beds and hay in racks tickled Caroline’s nostrils, and the sound of contented masticating came from every loose box. Duchess turned her head from her hayrack, but didn’t come over.

“She looks better for her adventure than I feel,” Nat said, leaning on the stable door.

Caroline leaned beside him. “She was lucky. Her reins broke. They could have caused her to fall. She could have broken a leg.”

He nodded.

She licked her lips. “You were lucky, too. You could have been killed.”

He nodded again. “I wish I could take a look at that saddle.”

Now or never. “Do you think someone doesn’t want you to see it?”

She felt his body stiffen beside hers, but he didn’t turn his head. “Do you think that?”

“I do.”

He stayed silent for a full minute, the sound of Duchess eating loud. “Who do you think would want that?”

She watched his profile. He was on her right, so she couldn’t see his scar. “Who heard your directions to go and find the saddle?”

“Everyone in the hall. Dickon, Tom Pascoe, you, Hetty and Yves, my stepmother, Ennion, Trefusis…”

“And who ordered Young Pascoe not to go and find it until he’d finished his day’s work?”

“Trefusis.”

She let the name hang between them.

“You think Trefusis went out there and took the saddle? So Tom wouldn’t find it?”

Caroline nodded. “I do. I think he gave himself enough time to get out there and dispose of it so you couldn’t see someone had tampered with the girth, or the girth straps.”

Now he did turn his head to look at her, his face close to hers. His voice dropped as though he feared someone might be listening. “You think he interfered with my saddle? Why?”

“Men,” Caroline huffed. “You’re all blind to what’s going on around you. My friend Lord Ormonde is much the same, and dear Sam Beauchamp, as well. Look beyond the end of your nose. Trefusis is after the Treloar fortune.”

Nat shook his head. “But how could he hope to get it? After my grandfather dies, it’ll go to Yves.” He frowned. “Does he think to be guardian to Yves until he reaches his majority?”

Caroline shook her head. “Look a bit further. Who inherits if anything happens to Yves?”

“I do, I suppose.”

“Yes. And if anything happens to you?”

“Hetty.”

“Precisely.”

“But Trefusis is my mother’s lover. I had it from Jacka at Kennegy Downs. Everyone knows it. Why would Hetty inheriting Roskilly make a difference to him?”

“Haven’t you seen the way he looks at Hetty when your stepmother isn’t looking? It’s Hetty he’s after, not her mother. Think. Why would he go after your stepmother who is older even than he is, when he could have a young and beautiful bride—with a huge inheritance. Your stepmother can’t give him children, for a start.”

Did he believe her? She held her breath.

“So, you’re saying he tried to kill me today?”

She nodded. “I’m almost sure he did. Think about it again. He won’t start with the first in line—your grandfather. He’ll go last because he’s sure he’s going to die soon and he can afford to wait for nature to take its course. All he needs to do is remove you and Yves, then marry Hetty and the inheritance is his to keep. Yves, whom everyone’s been told is weakly and not expected to live. You and Yves are in terrible danger.”

“And my grandfather.”

“Him too, but nowhere near as much as you and Yves. Trefusis tried to kill you today and failed. That saddle’s probably down an old disused mineshaft where you’ll never find it. And he won’t stop at today. He’s going to try again. Don’t forget what Hetty said—that there’s a curse on the male Treloars. If something happens to you, the locals will say it was the curse.”

“And Yves?”

“At first I thought it was only your stepmother who wanted him gone so you could inherit, but now I think it’s not just her. It has to be Trefusis, although how he would have persuaded Bridget to do it for him, I don’t know. Well, I can imagine but that’s too horrible to put into words. I think it’s probably both of them. Together.”

“What’re you talking about? Explain yourself.”

“Bridget has been dosing Yves with large quantities of laudanum. Miss Hawkins discovered it and was dismissed, as was Hester the old nursery maid. She thinks—Yves and I met her in Penzance—that whoever’s behind it—she thinks it’s Mrs. Treloar—was trying to make her the scapegoat, so they could blame her for doing it to him. I found the bottle in Bridget’s room and swapped it for a harmless liquid, but last night it was topped up again and Yves was half asleep this morning. It’s a very dangerous thing to give so small a child.”

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, gazing up into those troubled blue eyes.

“How long have you known?”

“I didn’t know all of it until you told me you were only Mrs. Treloar’s stepson. Before that…” She hesitated. “Before that I thought perhaps it was you who wanted Yves out of the way so you could inherit. When you told me she wasn’t your mother, I realized she couldn’t be doing it for you. And then I worked out it had to be Trefusis with his eye to marrying Hetty and taking the inheritance all for himself.”

He nodded. “Quite the detective. I’m impressed.” Exactly what his grandfather had said.

“We have to stop them.”

He nodded. “There’s nothing I can do tonight, but I’ll speak to my grandfather in the morning about dismissing Trefusis. That would be a start. He seems the catalyst to all of this. Without him here, my stepmother will have no reason, surely, to ill wish Yves and me.”

“You think? She’ll still want Hetty to be the only heiress, you mark my words. If she’s involved in this, and I’m becoming more and more certain she is, although it might not be her idea and she may just be under the influence of Trefusis because she thinks he loves her.” She refrained from mentioning how convinced she was of Mrs. Treloar’s guilt. Let Nat accustom himself to this first.

“I think after today Yves should be safe tonight,” Nat said with a sigh. “And I should be, too.” He gave her a wry smile. “But tomorrow, I promise, we’ll see the back of Trefusis if I have to kick him down the drive myself.”

Caroline chuckled. “I have to say, I’d like to see you do that. If you decide to, promise to warn me in advance so I can come to watch.”

He chuckled. “I promise. Now, you’d best get back to your watch on Yves, I should think. Just in case. It doesn’t do to become complacent. I shall be quite all right now. Trefusis won’t dare do anything to me right here at Roskilly. He’ll be planning to wait a while before he strikes again.”

Caroline nodded. “I’ll go and read Yves a chapter of his favorite story.” She laid her hand on Nat’s. “Goodnight.”

His blue eyes met hers. “Goodnight, Caroline.” For a moment she couldn’t drag her own away. His were almost hypnotic, or was she just at her most vulnerable right now?

With an immense effort of will, she tore her eyes away and hurried out of the stables. Yves would be very pleased to have her read to him.