Chapter 7

7

S eeing no one else in the library, Roland strode across the room to Grace. She met him halfway, tilting her face up to his. He ran a finger under her chin in a gentle caress. “You look a little better than you did in the churchyard,” he said, studying her face for the signs of fatigue he had seen in her so often lately. “You went so pale when the duke was being vulgar. Are you all right? You still look upset.”

Grace gave him a minatory look before taking his hand away, though she squeezed it briefly before she let it drop. “I am fine. It was just—” she stopped, looking away as her eyes grew a touch shiny. “Nevermind earlier. I was shocked by his callousness, which now in retrospect seems like a funny thing to say. He has always enjoyed being shocking, and I do not know why I should let his behaviour keep catching me unawares. Still… Roland, if you found bodies of children, let me remain ignorant this time, please.”

His heart squeezed in sympathy with her fear, but at least her words reassured him that she was not ill. Truly, she did seem more herself. Perhaps the lingering fatigue was just from the days of travel after all.

“We did not find any bodies,” he assured her, and she relaxed. “I do not even have to lie to you about that. Thorne, the magistrate, and I went to check the areas around the known caves and places where kids have a penchant for holing up when they play truant. There is no sign of them.”

“Thank God,” she said, heaving a breath before she caught herself. “Oh, goodness, what am I saying? How can I be so relieved when they are still missing?”

“Because missing means there is still hope they will be found alive,” he said, smoothing a damp spot away from the corner of her eye.

“You make a fair point. But… what happens now? And where is Nathaniel?”

“He sent me home like a clucking mother,” Roland told her, because he knew that would lighten her mood. “We began visiting some of the neighbouring crofts to see if we could pick up a trail, and he was worried about the hour growing late. ‘The heir to the duke should take no such stupid risks,’” he said, emulating his brother’s voice. “‘Grace would gut me for making her a widow in her first year.’”

She laughed briefly at that. “I would, too. We still have more adventures to have together, Lord Percy.”

Her mildly suggestive tone caught Roland’s attention immediately. “Indeed,” he said, prowling closer to her, but Grace raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

“We are supposed to be behaving in front of the duke’s servants,” she reminded him as he threatened to sweep her into his arms.

“How odd a comment, Lady Percy. I do not see any of them here watching. I think they might forgive us given that we are also supposed to be… how did grandfather put it? Spreading legs for the good of the nation and all that?”

“I think that was my part, not yours,” Grace said dryly, but the pang of her secrets, and the thought of her strange afternoon with the duke, soured her mood. She consented to press her cheek briefly to his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Imagine Mrs Yardley walking in upon us like this.”

Roland let her go immediately with a mock shudder. “ Ach . You win this round, fair lady.”

“Speaking of your grandfather,” Grace said, warming to the subject as she thought back on their conversation. “I had a strange encounter with him just before you got back.”

Roland’s forehead creased as he listened to Grace relate the tale of what had happened. “I cannot think of who Hannah is. Is she one of the maids?”

She shook her head slightly. “Not that I am aware. I was hoping you might be able to tell me. If she was a maid, I have not met anyone by that name so far.”

“You should ask Mrs Yardley if she knows,” Roland suggested. “Alnwick Castle is so large you may not have met every servant who works here now. For all we know, she could be a scullery maid, someone who was dismissed, or even the daughter of one of the servants.”

“Yes, you are right. Still.. I think… It worries me a little that he might have thought I was Hannah.”

“The duke is well on in years…” he said slowly. “I saw no unusual signs of infirmity beyond needing his cane to walk this summer, but maybe his mind is beginning to wander, and you resemble this other person. Did he seem belligerent?” Realising what he said, he began to correct himself.

“You mean, more so than his wont?” Grace said tartly. “I know what you mean. No, he was… quite docile, actually. Which now that I think about it, perhaps that should have been my first clue he was not quite feeling himself.”

Frowning slightly, Roland considered the implications, hoping that her concerns were unfounded. Because otherwise, all his carefully laid plans for the coming year—to give Grace the adventures she had always wanted—would lie in ruin.

Grace seemed to sense his distress. “I did not mean to worry you. He returned to his old self quick enough, and chastised me for it.”

“I am not worried, love. Knowing the duke, he is more likely to become the next Vampire of Alnwick to spite us. A brief mixing of names is not necessarily a reason for concern.”

“Perhaps we should stay once spring arrives, to be certain he is hale,” Grace said solemnly, looking conflicted. “Roland, I?—”

“No. Let us not go down this dark path, Grace. We will keep an eye on him this winter before borrowing trouble on what this means for our future. One day we will have to settle down—just a little bit,” Roland said softly, smiling at her. “I want you to have no regrets. I do not want you to feel trapped here.”

“I would never feel trapped as long as we stay together. But, Roland—” Grace began, her words cutting off as a familiar rap sounded on the door. “Nevermind. Perhaps there is news we need to address.”

“All right. Come in,” Roland said, raising his voice.

The duke’s butler glanced around the room before nodding shortly to himself. “My lord, my lady, I beg your pardon for the interruption, but Sir Nathaniel has returned with Mr Harding. They are requesting a moment of your time, if you are available.”

“By all means, Withers. Show them in,” Roland answered.

Withers left, and Roland glanced back at Grace, but she shook her head. Whatever she had to say that was interrupted before, apparently it would keep. She stayed distant and thoughtful while they waited for Thorne and Mr Harding to arrive.

When they entered, both men still had florid noses and cheeks, but pinched, pale lips from the cold. Grace immediately pointed to the chairs by the fire, exclaiming, “You both look half frozen. Could you bring tea, Mr Withers?”

“Thank you, Lady Percy,” Mr Harding said as he settled, mopping his nose with a plain handkerchief. “I am so sorry. The cold makes my nose run.”

“No apologies required,” she said with a smile, turning them towards the subject of her burning curiosity. “Please, take a moment to compose yourself. It was kind of you to aid Lord Percy and Sir Nathaniel with the search. You must be very busy.”

“Oh, it is my pleasure to be of assistance, Lady Percy. Though, truly, I would have helped search for those children regardless.”

He stopped to clear his nose more thoroughly, and by the time he was through, Withers arrived with the tea. Grace poured, looking as though she would die with impatience waiting to hear what news the two had brought.

“Kind as he is, Mr Harding’s help is the only reason why we have any clue what has happened to the children at all,” Thorne said, rubbing his hands together to bring feeling back into them before he accepted his cup. “Once we completed our reconnoitre with Colonel Ellesmere I was at a loss as to what to do next. Mr Harding was the one who had the idea and the authority—after we sent Lord Percy back, that is—to check with some of the tenants nearest the roads. Well, we had no luck asking about stray, individual children, so we began asking just about anything that might be unusual. Anything at all. And our very last stop, a farmer mentioned he saw what may have been our two children in the morning twilight hours, as he was doing his chores.”

“Both,” Roland echoed, surprised. “Before dawn? I can see why he thought that could be unusual. You think it was the missing children? The two children were together?”

Thorne’s face looked grim, and Mr Harding wrung his hands. “There is more, Lord Percy. The reason that the farmer noticed them at all was because they were pushing a wagon out of a muddy hole. The farmer hailed and asked if he could help them, but they were able to get free with the help of the driver, so he did not approach.”

Roland took a sharp breath through his nose, thinking quickly. “A wagon and a driver changes almost everything we have been thinking. Does the farmer think they were with him voluntarily?”

Thorne shook his head. “We asked, but he could not say one way or another. He did not speak with them, and had thought the boys belonged to the driver, so he paid little mind to them once he saw they were with someone?—”

“I would think it does not matter! Two boys gone missing in the dark of night. Whether they went willingly or not, do their parents not deserve the peace of mind of our inquiry?” Grace exclaimed, and Thorne held up his hand, to stay her anger.

“I am of the same mind, Lady Percy. So I asked our farmer a better question, instead. I asked how they were dressed.”

“And?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“He had gotten close enough to see one of the lads had rags wrapped around his feet rather than proper shoes.”

“Like the boy might have been stolen from his bed after all. Then it was abduction, most likely.” Roland gritted his teeth, beginning to pace as he thought aloud. “Kidnapping. And they may have been threatened to stay silent. How dare someone abduct children here! This cannot stand.”

“There’s little we can do now, I’m afraid,” Mr Harding said carefully. “But come first light… Perhaps we might employ one of the huntsmen to see if he can track a wagon?”

“No need. Sir Nathaniel and I have some experience in tracking—certainly, enough to follow a line of wagon ruts. We can be out again at dawn.” Roland made fists of his hands as his rage built into a fearsome, towering thing.

Thorne left his chair, then, and placed himself directly in the path of Roland’s pacing, forcing him to come to a halt both physically and within his racing thoughts. His brother said nothing, but his meaning was clear enough: Stop. Control yourself.

He was piqued, but Roland nodded a curt acknowledgment, badly reining in his emotions. "Mr Harding, your assistance today has been invaluable, and I appreciate your time. I regret keeping you from your home and a warm hearth while we investigated this matter. I believe it is best that I let you return now."

Harding set down his empty cup. “Of course, my lord. It’s been my duty and my pleasure to assist. If there’s anything further you require, you’ve only to send word. I’ll take my leave now and wish you all a pleasant evening.”

There was tense silence while Mr Harding departed, and once the door clicked shut, Thorne set his hand on Roland’s shoulder without further comment.

Roland’s breath left him like air from a smithy’s bellows. “Thank you for your interruption. For a moment I was so angry at the sheer audacity of this… this villain that I saw red.”

Grace smiled thinly at the two of them. “I cannot blame you, Roland. If you had not nearly had an apoplexy, I might have had one in your stead.”

“I thought these days were behind us, but it seems that trouble follows you two like a lost pup,” Thorne said, letting Roland go once he could see his brother calming down. “So, we have what appears to be abduction, but clearly there have been no ransom demands, else the entire village would not have assumed they ran away. And with the half dozen children missing this fall… forced labour?”

“Few other reasons would make any sense,” Roland murmured, drumming his fingers on his folded arm. “But where? If they were headed east, away from Alnwick…”

“Wherever there is a shortage of hands, I would reckon. Newcastle? Berwick-upon-Tweed?” Thorne guessed.

“Goodness… would the kidnapper take them so far?” Grace asked. “At a better time of year, perhaps… But in the winter?”

When no answer was immediately forthcoming, Thorne slapped his gloves against his thigh. “We’ll have a clearer picture tomorrow if we can find the wagon’s trail. One thing, at least, is certain... Wes’s tall tale about a ‘Snatcher’ was more accurate than we gave him credit for.”

“Though let us hope he was mistaken about the horns and the habit of eating children. You both must promise to be careful,” Grace said, biting her lip. “As sad as the situation is, I would be beside myself if something happened to either one of you. I will… oversee matters here.”

Gooseflesh prickled the back of his neck as comprehension jolted Roland. Grace did not want to involve herself in the mystery of the abducted children. He did not even have to argue that she should pursue safer lines of inquiry.

Why? Had the events of the summer frightened the sense of adventure right out of her? Or was something else more wrong than he imagined?