Chapter 10 #3
Mantheria’s mother had been the daughter of a wealthy merchant who married a duke.
Both the Duke and Duchess of Hampford were very happily married and quite devoted to each other.
Sunny had always wished for a marriage like theirs, but he hadn’t realized that society never seemed to forget unflattering details, no matter how far in the past. Lady Hampford had been born common, but she was not now.
Still, Sunny felt a pang of sympathy for Mantheria.
It didn’t matter that her father was a duke and that she had married a duke; some aristocrats would only focus on her perceived lack of pedigree.
“The thing is, Countess,” he continued in a raised tone, “young Andrew decided to go on an adventure, and we have traced him to the Roman Baths, but we are having difficulty locating him now. If you have heard anything about him or if you do, we are staying at the George Hotel and would be most grateful for your assistance.”
Lady Oxford pointed her lorgnette spectacles at him. “What does the little duke’s disappearance have to do with you, Sunny?”
He was half-tempted to tell the old crone to show him a little respect and call him Duke or Lord Sunderland.
“Sunny is a friend of my family,” Mantheria said through clenched teeth, although, like Sunny, she spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Thank you for your time, Countess. We cannot dally in searching for my son.”
Mantheria moved to pass the old lady, but Lady Oxford put out her ear horn as if to block her.
“Miss Simpson over there, with the fake yellow hair and the teeth that come out and meet you, was telling me earlier about purchasing an ancient Roman coin from an engaging lad all in black who included a story about the great Greek warrior Achilles as a part of the bargain.”
In that moment, Sunny was ready to forgive Lady Oxford of both her insolence and her poking. “Thank you, Countess. We shall go and speak to her at once.”
“Not without a proper introduction, Duke.” This time Lady Oxford poked him in the chest with her ear horn, and he heard Mantheria choke down a laugh. “There will be none of your namby-pamby London ways here in Bath.”
They followed Lady Oxford over to Miss Simpson, and the other occupants of the crowded room seemed to part for her.
Lady Oxford was not a small woman, and her dress was nearly twice as wide.
She stopped in front of a woman who unfortunately did have buck teeth and appeared to be in her mid to late forties, but she also had a benign countenance that was overall pleasing.
“Miss Simpson, I have the honor of presenting the Duke of Sunderland and the Duchess of Glastonbury to you. They are interested in hearing about the lad who sold you that Roman coin.”
The spinster’s eyes widened at their titles, and she sank into a low curtsy.
Mantheria dropped his arm and stooped next to the woman, taking her arm and helping her back to standing.
“Please forgive the informality, but my son is missing, and I would be forever indebted to you if you could tell me more about the lad who sold you that coin. Where was he? And did he say where he was going? Did he by chance say his name was Andy String?”
“The lad did not tell me his name, but perhaps you will recognize the coin.” Miss Simpson reached into her reticule and pulled out a small silver coin. She handed it to Mantheria.
She brought the piece of silver closer to her eyes before declaring, “It is Andrew’s coin.
I can see the scratches on the face of the emperor.
Matthew gave it to him on his last birthday with a set of Roman soldiers.
” Mantheria turned back to the other woman.
“I will gladly pay you twice over what you paid for it.”
The other woman smiled and shook her head. “I couldn’t take a shilling from you, Your Grace. Besides, your son told me quite an entertaining story about a Greek hero named Achilles. He stopped me on York Street, not far from here.”
Thanks to his mother’s fondness for the city of Bath, Sunny knew exactly where that was. They could leave at once.
Mantheria’s fist closed over the coin. “I cannot thank you enough. If ever you are in need of anything whilst near Glastonbury or London, please do not hesitate to call on me. I consider this a debt unpaid, Miss Simpson.”
“There is no debt, but if you will allow me two more minutes of your time, perhaps I can briefly tell you the story that your son told me.”
Sunny watched Mantheria jerkily nod; her entire body tense and her eyes darting toward the door. She clearly did not want to wait and hear this woman’s tale, but she was too well-bred to refuse the request.
Miss Simpson sighed and then smiled wistfully.
“The lad told me about a young warrior named Achilles, who was bound for greatness, but his mother was worried for his safety. So, she had him dress like a girl and hid him at an estate. But then a clever man came selling swords, and he knew that Achilles was not a girl but a warrior because he was very interested in the swords. And they left together to go on an adventure.”
The clever man in the story was Odysseus, or Ulysses. The same fellow from the story he told Mantheria the night before. But the message was different. Andrew must have felt stifled by his mourning clothes and being kept at home, like the great Achilles. So, he’d left on an adventure.
Mantheria bowed lowly to the other woman. “Thank you so much, Miss Simpson. For the coin and for the story. I think I understand now. No matter how much I love my son and want to keep him safe, I need to be careful not to smother him or to protect him from every strong wind.”
“He’s lucky to have such a caring mother, Your Grace.”
Sunny bowed to Miss Simpson and Lady Oxford and escorted Mantheria from the Pump Room.
Together, they walked down Abbey Churchyard until they reached York Street.
He saw several sedan chairs and carriages parked there, no doubt waiting for the older occupants of the Pump Room to require a lift home.
They weaved between the horses and avoided the droppings.
Sunny saw a few boys, but they did not have Andrew’s black locks. Nor were their clothes as fine.
Mantheria walked into all the shops and asked them if they’d seen a boy matching Andrew’s description or pseudonym.
The shop clerks all answered negatively.
Undeterred, Mantheria began at the corner of the street and hailed each carriage driver, asking them if they’d seen Andrew.
Sunny wished that he could think of some way to help.
Particularly as one by one, all the carriage drivers shook their heads.
Except for the last. He was an old, withered man wearing a curly white wig and a spotless livery without so much as one wrinkle.
“Aye, I did see and speak with the lad. He wanted directions to Tunley, and I told him to go over the River Avon and to head southeast. But a farmer passed by, providentially, and offered to let the boy ride in the back of his wagon. It was empty since he’d delivered his load of pigs to the butcher for slaughtering. ”
Sunny sucked his teeth. He wasn’t sure that Andrew getting into a stranger’s wagon was the safest choice. They would need to follow as soon as possible. He turned to face Mantheria. “Why is Andrew trying to go to Tunley of all places?”
Mantheria shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know of any Roman sites or artifacts in that area. It is where we have often stopped at an inn to change horses on our way to Avalon Palace. Perhaps he was seeking somewhere familiar?”
He’d almost forgotten that she lived in a bloody Palladian palace and possessed several other fine houses. His own ducal estate was a shabby country house in comparison.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the driver. “Thank you so much for your assistance, sir.”
She reached into her reticule, but the driver said, “No need, my lady. I am always happy to help a mother find her lost child. Besides, Andy already paid me with one of his silver buttons.” The old man held up the intricate, pure silver button. “I didn’t wish to take it, but the lad insisted.”
Another clue.
“That is my son’s button and his name. Thank you so much, sir.” Mantheria curtsied to the man, and he doffed his hat. She grabbed Sunny’s hand and pulled him across York Street and back to Stall Street, where their hired carriage was waiting.
“Please take us back to the George,” she said, then climbed in.
Confused, Sunny got in beside her and closed the door. “Are we not going to follow, Andrew?”
“We are, but I learned from you yesterday that horseback is much faster than a carriage. When we get to the George, can you hire us a pair of fast horses and send an express to London and let my family know of our progress?”
“Of course.”
“You are the perfect companion in a crisis, Sunny.”
Her compliment was slight, but he savored it like an expensive bottle of champagne. Perhaps he was doing better at helping her than he thought he was.