Chapter 4

4

G olden sunlight illuminated the castle windows on the morning of the village fair. Cheered by the sight of the cloudless blue sky, Grace announced they would walk to the village hall.

“Must we, miss?” Elsie asked from her position near the fireplace in Grace’s bedroom. She rubbed her hands together and held them closer to the flames to emphasise her already half-frozen state.

“It is but a short walk, Elsie. Given the theme of charity, it is only right that we act in a humble manner so that the focus remains on the community and not us. Besides, you have a fine pair of new gloves and a wool muff. That is far more than many of the attendees will have.”

Elsie bobbed her head and disappeared into the dressing room, mumbling under her breath. Grace caught only snippets, but that was enough to understand that it was more than the cold causing Elsie’s concern. She followed Elsie into the smaller chamber, all but backing her into a corner.

“What are you mumbling about?”

Elsie gnawed at her lower lip, her eyes firmly focused on the ground. It took another round of prodding before the maid came clean. “The staff has been working nigh round the clock, my lady. Putting their feet up at all, even if only for a few minutes, would be greatly appreciated.”

“Around the clock? But how can that be? We have had no guests this week, and the castle staff is more than sufficiently resourced, even if we did. Surely setting out the Christmas decorations did not take so long.”

“It’s the pies, ma’am.”

“Pies?” Grace was certain she had misheard. “The fruit pies for the fair?”

Elsie raised her gaze and gave a single nod of confirmation. “I know you meant well, my lady, but making dozens of pies requires planning, or so Cook has said time and time again this week. She sent the stable boys out to get honey from all the nearby farmsteads. The housemaids were tasked with peeling and slicing fruit, while the footmen found more baking tins. Last night, they were up to the wee hours moving pies in and out of the ovens.”

Grace’s spirits plummeted the more Elsie went on. “But I thought it was a simple thing. Mama always donates pies to the village fetes.”

Elsie stopped biting her lip to give Grace a weak smile. “In a well-run household, her ladyship should remain unaware of the effort things take, and the castle is no exception. Mrs Yardley was most insistent that none of the staff grumble in your presence.”

“Making it very clear who was to blame for the added work.” Grace’s shoulders dropped. “Why did you not say something before now? Surely you are comfortable enough with me to let me know if you are working all hours.”

“I was not involved. I’m an upper servant.”

Competing emotions roiled in Grace’s stomach. Glad as she was to have not inconvenienced Elsie, whom she thought of as a friend more than a servant, it likely made matters worse belowstairs. “How do I make this right?”

Elsie expressed no surprise at Grace’s question. She had served at Grace’s side long enough to understand Grace’s concerns. Perhaps that was why she had kept the matter to herself for this long. Like Grace, Elsie was also an outsider searching for her place in an unfamiliar household. Undermining Grace would result in less respect accorded to Elsie as well. Their places were tied together, depending on the respect for the lady to carry over to the maid.

“An extra half-day would not go amiss,” she ventured.

“A half-day plus a small monetary reward. I will pay it out of my allowance.”

Elsie flashed Grace the first full smile of the day. “That will go down well, my lady. I will make sure they know you are funding it yourself.”

“Let me tell Mrs Yardley and Withers first,” Grace said. “It will be a good reminder that I am not without resources, and I will not stand for being made to look like a fool. Now, gather my warmest dress and sturdy leather boots so that we can be ready to depart on time. On foot,” Grace added. “The rest of the staff may travel by carriage and wagon along with our donations to the event.”

An hour later, Grace arrived in the castle courtyard, bundled in a fur-lined pelisse and matching muff, with Elsie at her side. She found Mrs Yardley and Cook waiting at the gate. Mrs Yardley’s neutral expression gave no hint as to her true sentiments, but Cook tried her best to avoid meeting Grace’s eyes.

Before the quartet of women made to depart, Grace asked them to wait a moment. “Cook, I want to personally extend my gratitude for your extraordinary efforts in organising the food for today. Particularly, for handling my last minute request to add pies with such good humour. Our meals thus far are as excellent as any I have eaten elsewhere, so I am confident the treats will be highly valued. They will cheer people, which I am reminded is the spirit of the season. Mrs Yardley, I would like to arrange for everyone involved to receive a reward, yourselves included. Elsie can pass along the details when we return home.”

Cook’s cheeks pinked with delight at Grace’s words. Even Mrs Yardley allowed a small smile to cross her lips as she bobbed her head in agreement.

Grace suggested the local women take the lead, with her and Elsie following behind. Elsie nudged Grace with her elbow and whispered words of praise in a tone too low for the others to hear. Grace, however, was hesitant to consider this any sort of victory. She was no closer to learning where Mrs Yardley’s allegiance lay. At best, they were back at a stalemate. But now was not the time for such worries, not when Grace had a village worth of people to meet.

The size of that challenge became clear when the women walked into the village hall. High windows allowed light to flood the space. Someone had strung garland over the doorways. Sprigs of holly with their bright, red berries formed the centrepiece of decoration on every table.

People, predominantly women, bustled around the room, bearing trays of food and piles of clothing. They moved with the order of a well-oiled machine as they designated which wares went in which parts of the room. Even the children present seemed to know how to stay out of the way.

It did not take long for the others to realise that the lady had descended from the castle. Grace caught more than a few curious glances cast her way before a woman approached for an introduction. She was of a similar age to Roland, perhaps a few years older at most. Her modest clothing was well-kept, despite being of simple fabric. It was the knitted shawl on her shoulders that caught Grace’s eye.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said to Grace, before adding hellos to the rest of their group.

“Countess Percy, may I introduce Miss Whitby? She is the local schoolmistress and has taken the lead in organising today’s event,” Mrs Yardley said, stepping into the gap before the woman was forced to introduce herself.

Grace beamed at the woman, wanting to make a good impression. “A fine event, indeed, based on what I have seen so far. You are both clever and kind-hearted to donate your time in such a way.”

“You are too kind, my lady. His Grace has been most generous this year in offering his support. The pies are an unexpected delight.” Miss Whitby studied Grace. “Is that your hand that I see behind their addition?”

“I can only take credit for the idea. Our wonderful cook and her staff deserve full credit for them.” Grace pulled her hands free of her muff and passed it to Elsie. “Tell me how I can best help, Miss Whitby. And please, do not stand on ceremony. I can pitch in as well as the next person.”

“If I may,” Mrs Yardley said, cutting into the conversation. “Her ladyship has yet to meet most of the townspeople. Before assigning her a task, might you see to introductions? Mrs Pattimore, Elsie and I can offer our help right away.”

To give Miss Whitby her due, she glanced at Grace to get her permission before executing the housekeeper’s instruction. Grace kept her grin in place, though inside she wished Mrs Yardley had held her tongue. It was not that she wanted to avoid the introductions, so much as preferring to encounter people in a more natural way.

Mrs Yardley’s suggestion ensured Grace was paraded around like the prized calf, a role she thought she had left behind in her debutante days. Nonetheless, she kept a stiff upper lip in place, making sure to say hello to everyone, no matter where they sat in the social structure. The shopkeeper, midwife, and even a busy mother of four might all soon prove useful, especially if Grace’s pregnancy progressed to term.

She spotted Roland and Thorne arriving an hour later. Roland could do little more than to wave hello before he, too, was thrust into the rounds. Seeing the attention turn his way, Grace decided it was time to make her escape.

“Is that warm cider I smell?” she asked. “I would not say no to a mug. Would you like to join me, Miss Whitby? I am keen to learn more about your school.”

Miss Whitby was delighted to find a possible new benefactress. She dispatched a pair of young men to fetch a pair of chairs while she procured the cider. In short order, Grace found herself tucked away in a corner. The teacher sat to her right, off to the side so that they could both have a view of the room. The event was picking up pace now that the doors were thrown open in welcome. For a short while, the women watched as villagers and people from the surrounding area came to collect what they needed for their winter stores.

Any children were quick to wave a shy hello at Miss Whitby while they goggled at the fancy lady at her side. Grace hid a grin behind her chipped mug of cider, imagining all the questions the teacher would get come Monday.

“How large is the school?” Grace asked.

“The number of pupils swells and shrinks according to the agricultural seasons, my lady. Now, with the harvest behind us and parents looking for ways to occupy their children during the dark winter days, we have close to one hundred pupils. In the spring and autumn, the number shrinks to half of that at best.”

“My word!” Grace was indeed impressed. “You must have several teachers to assist with managing such a large number.”

“A couple of local girls help with the youngest ones. I have a single assistant who focuses on literacy, while I teach the children their numbers. It may not sound like much, but up here, there is little need for more.”

“It is more than many young women of my set are taught, which is another problem in itself. However, that is a topic for another day.” Grace set her empty mug aside and rose from her chair. “I would very much like to support your endeavours, Miss Whitby. When you have a moment of time, please prepare a list of what you need. I will send an invitation for tea, and we can go through it together. I have occupied your attention for long enough. I can see my lady’s maid is in need of an extra pair of hands. I will go help her.”

Before Grace could walk away, a kerfuffle broke out in front of her. A harried, middle-aged woman wearing a dress made more of patches than original material gave a cry.

“Harry? Harry?” Her voice rose with each utterance of the name. “Where’s my Harry? Where’s my boy?”

All around, voices dropped low, but there was no missing the vein of worry running through their words. Other villagers stopped what they were doing to help the frantic mother find her missing child. Mere moments later, the crowd parted and a dirt-streaked child ran through.

“Mum? You callin’ for me?” he asked in pure innocence. “I was outside playin’ with me mates.”

The woman threw her arms around her son, caring not one whit for the mud he was getting on her clothes. To Grace’s eye, her reaction seemed wildly out of kilter with the situation, but no one around them showed signs of sharing Grace’s opinion.

“What was that all about?” Grace asked, leaning close to Miss Whitby. “Does the boy have a history of running off?”

“There have been some problems,” she replied, glancing left and right to see if anyone else was listening. “Not here in Alnwick, but in nearby villages. A child here and there taking off in the middle of the night. I have taken great care to lecture my pupils on the risks of being exposed to the weather, but I fear the other schools have not done the same. You know how these things go—one child sneaks off, another hears about it and latches onto the idea. You need not fear, my lady. Our children are far too sensible to take off into the wilds of Northumberland.”

“I should hope so,” Grace agreed. Yet, for the rest of the day, despite the gay atmosphere and kindred spirits, a nagging thought vied for Grace’s attention.

Were the missing children somehow connected to the tale of the so-called snatcher Wes and Willa had heard? In a large city like London, children went missing all the time. But this far north, surely such events had to be rare exceptions.

Despite her efforts to reassure herself, when Grace climbed into bed that night and closed her eyes, she could still see the panic that had been carved in the lines on that poor mother’s face.