Chapter 8

8

G race made her excuses not long after dinner, claiming she wanted to curl up under the warm covers of her bed with the book she had taken from the library. In truth, she needed time to come to terms with the reality of her situation.

This matter of the missing children was not going to be solved overnight, no matter how much she wished otherwise. She had witnessed Roland’s fiery response to the bailiff’s discovery. He was taking the matter personally, and she could not find any reason to disagree. It was an affront to the Percy family, to all the people of the area, that someone felt free to prey upon their young.

Roland and Thorne would follow every thread of suspicion until those missing children were home safe. Grace would not entertain the alternative—that the children might be lost forever.

Her hand drifted closer, coming to a rest on her abdomen. She found firm skin and the slightest beginnings of swelling. No matter how she had denied it, citing the lack of proof, Grace could not find any room to doubt her condition any longer now that her belly had begun to round. Thus far, the changes had not been enough to catch Roland’s attention, but soon he would have to be blind to not notice.

Assuming he was not already suspicious. Her offer to stay in the castle had raised his eyebrows. He had not pressed her for details in front of his brother, but Grace would be a fool to assume he would simply let the matter drop. He would know that remaining behind chafed at her heart when she and Roland had always confronted these situations together. Staying behind felt unnatural to a woman who prided herself on being brave.

Brave, but not foolish. In Henry IV, Falstaff said, “the better part of valour is discretion,” and for now she understood what he meant, truly. Taking care of herself—of their child—was the best and smartest thing she could do now, even if that meant retreating on another front.

She consoled herself with the fact that she did not have to be useless as she felt; there was another mystery afoot at Alnwick Castle. She could get to the bottom of whatever was happening with the duke.

For she was nearly certain in retrospect that the Breaker had suffered some spell of confusion. Was that an unusual event? Or was it a momentary slip, as sometimes happened when people grew older, and not of yet to be a concern?

Who was Hannah, and why did Grace uttering the name send him into such a rage?

And should she mention any of this to Roland, when he was already looking into the missing children? Maladies of the mind could take years to become problems. Was there merit in watching and waiting to see if there was another occurrence?

Pondering the question of loyalty left Grace tied in knots. She eventually abandoned that line of thinking. For now, she would leave things be, because who knew what new information tomorrow might bring to them?

So, Grace was reading in her own bed when Roland knocked on their connecting door.

“May I come in?” he asked.

He was still fully dressed. Despite the fact that she was clothed in a warm winter night rail, his elegance made her state of dishabille feel indecent. He had remained downstairs with a pile of his own correspondence for a long while after she had headed up.

She patted the space on the bed beside her. “Of course. I will always have a place for you.”

Normally, Roland would hurry across the room and pull her into an embrace, or at least caress her cheek and drop a kiss her forehead. On this night, he took his time crossing the wooden floor, and settled on the edge of the bed, giving her a wary look. “Is there aught amiss? You would tell me if there was, right?”

Her hands stilled. If something were truly wrong, Grace would have of course told him. But all her recent musings fell into the grey space. She had only unfounded suspicions about the duke, and with him being so unhappy right now, she was unsure whether her news about her expectant condition would be welcome or not.

Roland had been so quick to assure her they could stick to their plans when she asked about staying, and he already seemed eager to leave. He did not want to be in Alnwick or in the Breaker’s company any longer than required.

Now, both her child and the duke might demand it. She studied the lace on her coverlet, not able to meet his eyes. “I am fine, Roland. Truly.”

Roland’s jaw tightened, and he got up to pace. “You are not yourself, Grace. I have never known you to willingly sit back.” He rose from his seat and paced around the room. “And it is not just this. During the last weeks of our journey here, you were either gritting your teeth over the ruts in the road or collapsing against me in exhaustion. Here you are now, in bed long before we usually turn in. If you are unwell?—”

“I am the picture of health,” Grace said, cutting in before he could veer any closer to the truth. “I am not accustomed to such long and arduous travel. It took more out of me than I expected. But look at me now. Are my cheeks not pink? Have I swooned? I have hardly sat still these last days.”

Roland came closer and shifted the light of her candle so that it would illuminate her face. “I cannot shake the sense that there is more than your words say to me. Nailing your own front door shut would not have managed to keep you at home, safe in your house, when we were dealing with the murdered guardsman. It makes me worry that you would ask to stay behind now.”

She wished he would stop asking, because her resolve would not stand this for long. Grace felt the truth burning the back of her throat. She swallowed, nearly choking on it. Her mind raced, her eyes darting left and right in search of some explanation he would buy. She did not want to lie outright.

No, Roland would be satisfied only by the truth, and therein lay the solution to her quandary. She would give him a truth, of lesser importance to be sure.

Grace lifted her gaze, meeting her husband’s suspicious stare, but still letting regret and shame colour her face. “I did not want to trouble you with my worries. We both have our duties, but unlike you, I am still learning the breadth of what mine are. I did not grasp the complexities of running a house this size and challenges of engaging with the community. I am making foolish mistakes, and it is embarrassing.”

Roland stilled. “We have only just arrived, Grace. You cannot have done anything wrong.”

“I have, though.” Grace told Roland of her request for pies for the fair, and the unexpected way it had rippled through the household. “Even now, I do not know for sure whether I fell into a trap set out for me, or into one of my own making.”

“I—” Roland’s voice trailed off. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and shook his head. “I see. Surely they cannot hold such a small misstep against you, especially when you tried to set it right.”

“They might, if I do not learn quickly. I feel like a dunce with a frustrated tutor. The Breaker already undermined me to the staff before we arrived, and the longer it takes me to gain my footing, the more he looks correct. In these circumstances, I should not go gallivanting around the countryside, even though my heart shouts for me to help. They will see me shirk my duties, and because they do not know me as you do, they will not understand.”

Roland’s eyes narrowed. “You have never let societal expectations dictate your actions. That is why you stay home now? You are the woman of the house, and their employment is at your discretion. No. I think something has cowed you. Something has made you cautious. I wish you would trust me with the truth about what it is.”

Grace’s face flushed as her husband called her out for dancing around the truth. She longed to confess everything, but now was not the right time. Not when he had more important matters to occupy his thoughts. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill and took a deep breath. “You are right. There is something else, but it is not a problem you can solve—that anyone can solve other than time itself. I promise I will tell you all, when the time is right. Until then, please trust that I am fine. There is nothing for you to worry about other than finding the missing children.”

Roland let his hand drop to his side. He studied his wife, his deep brown eyes scouring every inch of her, brow creased in concentration. Grace did not dare move an inch for fear of giving it all away. He had to believe she was telling the whole story.

After a long pause, he rose from the bed and straightened the covers he had rumpled. “As you will.”

“You do not have to go. You may stay, if you want to,” Grace offered quickly.

“Not tonight. I will stay in my room. I must rise early, and there is no need for you to lose your sleep. Get your rest so that you may focus on your duties.” The slightest emphasis on these words stung.

Grace cursed herself for the way the conversation with Roland had ended, though she had no one to blame but herself. He was angry. She saw it in his cold manner and the lines of his back during his stilted departure from her room.

She was doing the right thing in keeping the pregnancy to herself. He would not thank her for adding to his burdens when so many others were depending upon him. She was fine, she reminded herself. Elsie was keeping watch over her. All Grace had to do was bide her time a little longer. Once the children had been found, he would be in a better state of mind. He would be ready, surely, then, to hear that they would have to stay in Alnwick.

Despite the assurances of her twisted logic, Grace tossed and turned that night. Finally, in the wee hours of the night, she gave up and lay on her back in bed, praying for some guidance—or at least wisdom—in how to approach things without making a complete muddle of it. That was when she felt the tiniest flutter of movement, low inside her belly.

—-

Elsie woke Grace, clattering into the room with a breakfast tray in hand. The maid was perfectly capable of moving silently, but evidently she had decided it was time for Grace to rise.

“Separate rooms again, my lady?” she asked as she positioned the tray on the empty side of the bed. And then she looked at Grace’s face. “You have been upset.”

“I felt it last night.”

The maid understood immediately. She hurried over and sat down on the edge of Grace’s bed, taking her hands. “But that’s wonderful news, my lady! Come summer, you’ll have a lovely baby to hold in your arms.”

“Lord Percy and I argued before bed.”

“About expecting?” Elsie looked shocked, but then she keenly looked at her again. “No, you’ve still not told him.”

Grace gave a shake of her head. Almost by rote, she said, “It is not the right time. He has much on his mind, and I cannot add more to his burdens.”

Elsie rarely spoke out of turn, but in this instance, she straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “I may not understand the ways of you toffs, but in this I am certain I have the right of it. That man loves you, miss. He wouldn’t place any other cause above you.”

Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “I am waiting for the right moment.”

Elsie rolled her eyes and then swung around, intent upon her morning duties. But she did not try too hard to hide the mumbling under her breath.

“You have not held your tongue around me so far this morning,” Grace called. “Out with it. Though it may not seem as such, I do value your countenance, Elsie. You are one of the few people here I trust.”

Elsie narrowed her gaze and studied her ladyship’s face, searching for any hint of falsehood. She huffed and finally said, “There’s no right time for anything, especially not between you and his lordship. Once you two get involved in a matter, it has a way of taking over your lives. Until those children are found, Lord Percy and Sir Nathaniel will ride over every square mile of their lands.”

“As they should.”

“Mayhap, my lady. But what if something happens to you while they’re away? Do you think Lord Percy will thank you for causing him to leave you to suffer alone? Would you thank him if the circumstances were reversed?”

A chill wracked Grace’s body at the thought of either happening. She took a deep breath and willed her heart to calm. “He will be careful.”

Elsie, however, was not done. “Will he? I saw his lordship and Sir Nathaniel depart this morning. They took weapons with them. What they do, they do believing it is dangerous, and you’ve let him leave while impassioned. You’ve turned your face from risky tasks because you might be carrying his child. Lord Percy won’t start doing the same until you tell him what you are hiding.”

The memory of Roland, beaten and bloodied, standing with a gun to the back of his head flashed into Grace’s mind. If someone kidnapped those kids, they would hardly throw their hands up in surrender. Only one thing would prevent Roland from walking into harm’s way. Grace had to give him a reason to stay safe.

“But those children—” Grace said, feeling a terrible twinge of guilt.

“Will be found,” Elsie said firmly. “If not by your husband, then by your people. You are a countess now, and soon to be a duchess. Of these people. You do not have to do everything yourselves. You can command the aid you need.”

Blinking at her maid, Grace nodded. Come evening, one way or the other, she would bring him into her confidence, telling him of the changes coming in their lives.

“I am fortunate to have such wise counsel. I will tell him tonight, you may be assured of it,” she promised her maid. That decided, Grace swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt around for her slippers. “While he is away, I need your help with another matter.”

“Oh?” Elsie glanced over from the dressing table where she had been setting out Grace’s things.

“Have you noticed if anything might be… amiss with the duke?” Grace skimmed over the highlights of her interaction with him the day before. “Is there a Hannah belowstairs? Or Anna?”

Elsie shook her head, equally mystified. “No name even close. He’s an old man, my lady. We had an old woman in our village. She lived well into her ninth decade, and stayed mostly as sharp as a tack. Still, even she muddled names from time to time. Just because he got confused doesn’t mean he’s lost his wits.”

Roland had said much the same thing, but Grace’s doubts refused to fade. “He has been staying here in the castle, locked away from everyone. His movements have slowed compared to when we saw him this summer. And what of him making an excuse at every mealtime?”

“I suppose you could be right,” Elsie admitted. “But how are we going to find out? Withers doesn’t move a finger without the duke’s permission. He won’t tell.”

Elsie was right about Withers. The butler had been part of the duke’s household longer than anyone else there. He was well past the age of retirement, but was determined to remain for as long as the duke breathed.

They needed someone younger, someone who might fear losing their position when the title changed hands. Grace outlined her thoughts to Elsie and asked for where she should start.

“Your best bet is Mrs Yardley, ma’am. She’s fair with the staff, and she’ll have a hard time finding another position of this calibre this far north.”

“Is that enough to convince her to break her silence on a matter of such significance?”

“I hope so,” Elsie murmured. “For all our sakes. You’re with child, his lordship’s on the hunt, and the duke might be losing his grasp upon his mind, for all we know. If there was ever a time when we needed our allies, as Lord Percy says, this is it.”