Carola Dunn (20 page)

“I am glad you have cheered up a bit, Colin,” Lissa said. “We shall have a merry Christmas anyway, just wait and see.”

“I know. I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you and Peter and Michael.”

She smiled at him. “Good. Now eat your supper, pet.”

Afterwards, thinking about the long journey to Lambeth, Colin wished he had saved some of his supper. He had some sugar-plums in his chamber, he’d take those. And he had a few shillings he had saved to buy a pretty handkerchief for Lissa, because she’d lost her best one. She wouldn’t mind if he bought bread instead. Peter said bread was the best value.

Should he take his pony? Galahad was in the paddock, not the stables, but he would have to get the tackle without waking the grooms. He’d have to saddle the pony himself, too. Luckily Uncle Robert had made them learn how.

“Bedtime, boys. Go and get ready and I shall come and say good night.”

Where had the evening gone? It would soon be time to run away. Had he thought of everything?

Colin smuggled a pencil and a sheet of paper into his bedchamber. He’d leave a note, so that no one would worry about him.

When Lissa came to say good night, he gave her a big hug. “I love you, Miss Lissa.”

“I love you, too, pet.” She kissed him. “Now put your book away and lie down.”

“I’m not very sleepy. Please may I read for a few more minutes?”

“Just a few, and make sure your candle is quite out. Good night, love.”

Writing with the paper propped on his book was not easy. He tried to make his writing neat, but Lissa would say it was poor penmanship. He’d be extra careful of the spelling to make up. Lambeth was a problem, he had never seen it written so he had to guess.

At last it was done. He folded it and wrote “To Everyone” on the outside. Putting it on his nightstand where it could not be missed, he blew out his candle.

Moonlight shone through a crack between the curtains. Good, he would be able to see his way. Now he just had to wait for the household to go to sleep.

Chapter 16

“Lissa, Colin’s run away!” Peter burst into her chamber, waving a sheet of paper, as she was pinning up her hair.

Her heart stood still. “What? He cannot have run away. Pray don’t hoax me like that, Peter. It is neither funny nor kind.”

“I’m not hoaxing. He’s gone. I went to see if he was up yet and he’s not there and I found this by his bed. It says ‘To Everyone,’ so I read it. Here.”

Lissa took the note with trembling fingers. “‘Please don’t worry,’“ she read. “‘I cant stay when Miss Lissa is sent away and Peter and Michael, so Im going to Lambith. Don’t worry about me. Your loving Colin.’“

“What does he mean, when we’re sent away?” Michael asked fearfully, standing in the doorway behind Peter.

“I have no notion, pet, but we cannot be concerned about that when Colin is somewhere out in the cold. And wet,” Lissa added, glancing at the window. The wind had brought up a new set of clouds and a thin, dismal drizzle beat against the glass. “With his weak chest.... What can have upset him so? Oh, how I wish Lord Ashe were here!”

“We’ll have to find him,” Peter said in a businesslike tone. “Hurry up and get dressed, Michael. Ask Nanny to help you put on riding breeches. I’ll change and we’ll take the ponies.”

Michael disappeared and Peter started to follow.

“I wonder if Colin took Galahad?” Lissa struggled to collect her wits, scattered by the shock. “He might have ridden miles by now. Peter, wait. This is too much for us to deal with. Run down to the stables and see if Galahad is gone. Ask Mr. Trumbull to come at once to see me in the front hall.” The head groom was the best man to organize a search. “Hurry.”

Peter ran off.

Grooms and stable boys: Lissa was not sure how many there were but mounted they could cover the ground quickly. The footmen must go out too, she decided. On foot they would look in places riders might not think of.

Colin might go across country rather than staying on the roads. He might go the wrong way, so searchers must head in both directions, not just towards London.

Why Lambeth? Shaking her head in puzzlement, Lissa abandoned her hairpins and hastily tied back her hair with a bit of ribbon. On her hurried way to the stairs, she stuck her head into Michael’s chamber.

“Michael, you need not put on riding breeches. The grooms will search for Colin.”

“But I want to help, Lissa!”

She racked her brains. “Ask Nanny to help you put on your best clothes, as if you were to go to the drawing room for tea. Lady Ashe is going to be very distressed. She is fond of you, so you may help to comfort her.” She sped on, not waiting for Michael’s response.

The butler, Parrish, was horrified to hear of Colin’s flight, as was Mr. Trumbull when he came in a moment later with Peter, who reported Galahad missing. Lissa was explaining what she thought should be done, and asking the men’s advice, when Michael dashed down the stairs, half dressed.

“Lissa, Lissa, Nanny says someone must go for the apothary, in case Colin’s ill when he comes home.”

“I’ll send one o’ my lads to Bascombe after the ‘pothecary, miss,” rumbled Mr. Trumbull.

“Better tell him to go on to Stow-on-the-Wold,” Parrish suggested, “to fetch her ladyship’s doctor. Now don’t you be fretting, miss. We know what to do. We’ll find Master Colin and have him back in your care in no time.”

“That we will, miss,” Trumbull affirmed, “never fear.”

“Thank you, both of you.” The most important weight off her mind, Lissa contemplated the next step with dread. As the men hastened off, she sank weakly onto the nearest chair. “And now I must break the news to Lady Orton and Lady Ashe.”

“I’ll tell Lady Ashe,” Michael volunteered.

“Shall I tell Colin’s mama?” Peter asked, blenching.

“You are both the dearest boys!” Lissa put an arm around each and hugged them hard, remembering how Colin had told her last night that he loved her. “But I must do it myself. I just wish I knew why he went! He said nothing to either of you?”

“Not to me,” said Peter thoughtfully. “Remember how quiet he was last night, after tea? I wager he heard something in the drawing room which overset him.”

“Lissa, they won’t send us away?”

Should she reassure him, or prepare him for the worst? She could not think about it with Colin on her mind. “I expect Peter is right, that Colin overheard something yesterday, but he may very well have misunderstood. I have not been told we are to leave, and I see no reason for so sudden a decision.”

“No, ‘cause Colin likes us, doesn’t he?” Michael said, cheering up, to Lissa’s relief.

“It’s as if we were three brothers instead of two,” said Peter. “Can’t I go and help to look for him, Lissa?”

At that moment, a groom burst into the hall from the back passage. “Miss, Galahad’s come home wi’out the young master, and Mr. Trumbull said to tell you the dog, that Curly, ‘s missing!”

“At least Colin’s not alone,” Peter said. “Curly will keep him company. Can’t I go, Lissa? She’ll come when I call and show us where he is.”

Lissa gave in. With strict instructions to stay right with the groom, Peter ran off. By then, the housekeeper and their ladyships’ dressers were all waiting to speak to Lissa.

She addressed the housekeeper first. “If you please, Mrs. Cardew, a good fire in Lord Orton’s chamber, plenty of water kept hot, and prepare a warming pan and hot bricks.”

“Very good, Miss Findlay.”

Though she used Lissa’s name, rather than the more respectful “miss,” thank heaven she, like the men, accepted a governess’s authority where the well-being of her charge was concerned.

“And if you have any remedies specific to chest complaints, pray look them out,” Lissa added before turning to the abigails. “Have your ladies heard about Lord Orton?” she asked them.

“Not Lady Ashe,” said the plump, grey-haired, motherly looking woman who served the baroness. “Her ladyship doesn’t leave her room till noon, and doesn’t see a soul till then but Miss Barbican and me. And what this’ll do to her, there’s no knowing, Miss Findlay, what with her weak heart and all.”

“Do you think we might be able to keep it from her until noon? Surely Lord Orton must be found by then!”

“If Miss Barbican don’t tell her. I’ll do my best to keep her out, saying the news might kill her ladyship, troubled as she already was last night, poor dear.”

“Oh dear! Yes, please do your best. What about Lady Orton, Miss Marlin?”

“Her ladyship’s awake but still abed and don’t know yet.”

“She cannot be kept in ignorance when her son is missing.”

“I won’t take it on myself to break the news, Miss Findlay,” Marlin said grimly.

“No, I must break it to her myself, and at once.”

“Can I come?” Michael asked in a small voice, looking lost and near tears.

“No, pet, I want you to do something much more useful. Poor Nanny Bessemer will be fretting. Will you go and tell her about everything that is being done to find Colin?”

“I’ll tell her Colin has Curly to look after him.”

“Yes, do.”

As Michael scurried bare-footed up the stairs, Lissa followed more slowly. How she wished she could think of a reasonable excuse to postpone informing Lady Orton of her beloved son’s disappearance. It seemed all too likely Lissa would be blamed for the escapade, though what she might have done to foil it she could not imagine.

If she was not already about to be dismissed, then Colin’s mistaken belief might well precipitate exactly what he feared.

Marlin led the way to Lady Orton’s dressing room. Leaving Lissa there, she went on into the bedchamber “to prepare the way,” to Lissa’s heartfelt gratitude.

The dresser said something about bad news, then she reappeared and admitted Lissa to a charming pink and white chamber. Lady Orton was sitting up, alarm on her lovely face beneath a pink-ribboned cap. A letter she had been reading dropped, forgotten, on the ruffled counterpane. Seeing it, Lissa realized she still had Colin’s note clutched in her hand.

“Miss Findlay, what is wrong? Has my boy fallen ill again?”

“No, Lady Orton. He has run away. I promise you, everything possible is already being done to find him.” Lissa gave her the note.

“Run away?” She read the note and promptly burst into tears. “Oh, this is all my fault,” she wept.

Perplexed, Lissa sat down on the edge of the bed and put a comforting arm about her employer’s quivering shoulders. “Your fault, ma’am? How is that?”

“I told Mama you used to be an actress. I knew very well she would be furious. I simply was not thinking. Colin was there and he heard Mama say you must leave in the morning. Oh, can you ever forgive me? My poor little boy!”

So Colin was right. Heavyhearted, Lissa tried to concentrate on Colin’s plight, not her own. “We must pray he suffers no lasting harm. I daresay he found shelter when it began to rain, but in case of need a groom has ridden for the apothecary and the doctor. All the rest of the grooms and footmen are out looking for Colin.”

“You have done everything, Miss Findlay. You take such good care of him, and I have ruined your life.” Lady Orton sobbed harder than ever.

Marlin moved in. “Now calm yourself, my lady,” she said firmly. “I’ve sent for a tisane. Giving yourself the headache won’t help Master Colin. Like your ladyship says, Miss Findlay’s done all the needful and she’ll tell us the minute he’s found.” The dresser nodded to Lissa, who thankfully accepted her dismissal.

She went out through the dressing room. Opening the door to the hallway, she found Lord Quentin, in a crimson velvet dressing gown embroidered with Chinese pagodas, with his hand raised to knock.

“How is she?” he asked anxiously.

“Will you go and comfort her, sir? Her maid is with her. She blames herself.”

“Herself?”

“Colin ran away because he heard I...I was to be dismissed, Lady Ashe having discovered my past.”

Lord Quentin flushed. “My fault, too,” he said, abashed. “Lady Ashe might have swallowed an actress in the house, but I let slip you was an opera dancer. Did assure her there was no...er...carrying on between you and Ashe. Don’t know if she credited it, I’m afraid.”

So Lady Ashe believed her son was Lissa’s lover? Lissa’s head whirled. She closed her eyes and put a hand to the doorjamb to steady herself.

“She was in high fidgets,” Lord Quentin went on, “said she couldn’t bring herself to talk any more about it last night, meant to leave it till today. I say, are you going to swoon?” he asked in alarm.

She took a deep breath. “No. I cannot, must not, think of anything but Colin for the moment.”

“Then bedamned to propriety, I’ll go and see if I can cheer Lady Orton up a trifle.” He bolted past Lissa and she heard his knock on the connecting door.

He was a bit of a fool and something of a libertine, but he truly loved Lady Orton. As she went to check on the housekeeper’s preparations, Lissa wished with all her heart that she could turn to Lord Ashe for comfort and support, though love was out of the question.

* * * *

Lissa was in the day nursery with Nanny and Michael when Peter burst in.

“We found him! I called and called, and Curly came, just as I said. She led us back to him, where he took shelter under a hedge. Mr. Trumbull’s carrying him up.”

Springing to her feet, Lissa hurried to him and drew him out into the passage. “How is he, Peter?”

Peter sobered at once. “He looks dreadful, white as a sheet and not moving, except he keeps shivering and shivering.”

“Wheezing?”

“Yes, pretty badly. Not as bad as when we left London, I’d say.”

“Is he conscious?”

“His eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to hear what we said to him. He’ll be all right, won’t he, Lissa?”

Lissa bit her lip. “I hope so, Peter.” She turned at the sound of a heavy tread on the stairs. “Here he is. Will you go to Michael? Tell him all about the search and finding Colin. Don’t say anything about how ill he seems.”

Peter nodded solemnly and went back into the day nursery.

Trumbull followed her into Colin’s chamber and deposited his burden, wrapped in a couple of men’s coats, on the chaise longue she had had moved in. He glanced around at the blazing fire in the grate with the copper hip-bath standing ready before it.