Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Mrs. Hallet was peering out the kitchen window as Hugh and Georgie came into the room, while King Saul whined at the door. The housekeeper turned, face ashen. “The boys went out. I don’t see them.”
“I’ll fetch my greatcoat.” Hugh patted Georgie’s shoulder before heading for the front of the house. Both she and his housekeeper were at the window when he returned, and the pug was pawing at the panel.
“Any sign of them?” Hugh asked.
Georgie and Mrs. Hallet shook their heads. His housekeeper caught King Saul’s collar, then nodded to Hugh.
He opened the door, and the wind whipped in, turning up the edge of the tablecloth and setting Georgie’s skirts to swinging. King Saul strained against Mrs. Hallet’s hold.
“Stay!” Hugh sang. Then he stepped out and shut the door tight behind him.
“Pip!” he shouted, only to have the word ripped away from him. “Oliver!”
As rain blinded him, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called again and again.
No response. At least, none he could hear over the thunder of the wind.
When he came back inside, Georgie had control of King Saul, and Mrs. Hallet was worrying her hands in front of her apron.
“I can’t raise them,” he said. “They may have asked to stay with one of the villagers or gone to ground in a shed or barn. Stay here, both of you, in case they come back. I’ll check in the village, and if no one’s seen them, I’ll go to the manor.”
Mrs. Hallet nodded, but Georgie stepped forward, pulling King Saul with her. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, Georgie,” he said, gentling his tone. “It’s too rough out there.”
She lifted her chin. “I was forced to sit while someone I loved died once. Don’t ask me to do it again. Besides, we are a team. It’s time we started acting like one.”
The only satisfactory answer he could give her was to agree.
* * *
The windowpane rattled. Morrigan hugged her shawl closer as she sat on her bed in the servants quarters. Her Grace the Second thought a storm raged outside. A storm raged inside too. Morrigan was being shoved from her home again.
A tear trickled down her cheek, softer than the rain that lashed the window. Last time she’d heeded her sister’s advice and run, leaving family behind. This time, it was her own choice to flee. But Tyneham Manor and these people had become her family.
And Bailey was her home.
She wasn’t sure when their banter had turned to more, or when she’d decided the only right place was at his side, but she knew she was leaving something far more precious and rare behind this time. Giving up felt wrong.
Giving up felt like the worst mistake of her life.
She used the end of her shawl to wipe away the last of her tears. Six months ago, she’d been afraid, with no future worth considering. What good was a maid-of-all-work with no references? But coming here, she’d found purpose, pride in her work again. She was the Exalted Dog Nanny of Tyneham Manor!
And more, she’d found love.
This time, she’d pay the piper. Bailey was worth fighting for. Their future together was worth fighting for. Squaring her shoulders, she rose and headed for the family portion of the manor.
Though he should have taken his half-day off after breakfast, Bailey was coming from the coal vault, scuttles hanging on his arms. He stopped in the corridor, gaze meeting hers.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked.
The brass scuttles dropped with a clatter, scattering chunks of coal along the carpet. “More than anything.” He opened his arms, and she fell into them.
Bailey held her close, and she felt his kisses landing on her cap. Here she was safe, here she was treasured. Why had she ever thought she could leave him behind?
A noise on the stairs behind them had her pulling away. She swatted his arm. “What are you thinking, dropping the scuttles like that? Do you know how hard it is to remove coal dust from carpet?”
“Not as hard as the thought of losing you,” he said, but his cheeks pinked as he bent to retrieve the scuttles and drop the coal back inside.
Someone must have opened the front door, for wind rushed down the corridor, bringing with it the scent of rain.
“You haven’t lost me, Bailey,” Morrigan promised, wrapping her shawl closer where his embrace had dislodged it. “But if we want a future, I have to clear my name, and that means the real thief will become known.”
“Which is exactly what happened,” the duke said, coming around the corner from the front of the house.
Bailey stepped back, chin coming up. “Your Grace.”
Morrigan hastily curtseyed.
“Very considerate of you two to be together so I can tell you at once,” the duke said as if they’d met for his convenience.
“Miss Turner, I ask that you reconsider your resignation. I know you are not the thief. The true culprit has been identified, someone who has lived in the village for decades.”
If he spoke the truth, it couldn’t be Sally, then. Why hadn’t Bailey’s sister said so when Morrigan had confronted her? Could it be that, like Morrigan, she was protecting someone, someone like her mother?
Suddenly his words penetrated. A weight sloughed off Morrigan’s shoulders. She wasn’t under suspicion anymore. She was free.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said. “I’d like to stay, if you’ll allow me to continue serving.”
“Of course.” He turned to Bailey, who stood even taller.
“Mr. Bailey, there will be some changes with the household arrangements for your mother. We can discuss details after you’ve had an opportunity to speak to her and your sister.
I’d like to hire young Sally, by the way.
Where do you feel she’d best be suited?”
Bailey blinked as if he couldn’t believe the most powerful man in thirty miles would ask his opinion. “I’m sure that’s not for me to say, Your Grace.”
Perhaps it was relief making her giddy, perhaps her desire to help Bailey’s family, but Morrigan interrupted. “What about Assistant to the Exalted Dog Nanny?”
His Grace’s lips twitched. “An interesting possibility. When you have settled things to your satisfaction, come see me.” With a nod, he strolled back toward the front of the house.
Bailey waited until the duke had turned the corner before closing the distance between him and Morrigan.
“You hear that? You’re reinstated, and Sally can help pay for Mum’s care. There’s no reason you and I can’t marry!”
He might think differently when he realized his mother had been the thief, but Morrigan’s heart started pounding. “Oh, marrying, are we?”
He sighed. “That was badly done of me. You deserve better. Meet me in the picture gallery once they’ve all settled in for tea and…” He stiffened, and she heard it too—voices coming their way. With a nod, he strode past her for the servants stairs.
“Bailey, wait!”
Her Grace the Second’s voice pulled him up short and prevented Morrigan from melting into another room.
The duchess hurried toward them, face tight and eyes brimming.
Her pelisse was dark with rain. The vicar beside her looked as if he’d blown in on the wind, hat missing, hair plastered to his skull, and greatcoat sodden.
“Have either of you seen Oliver and Pip this morning?” Her Grace asked, gaze going from Bailey to Morrigan.
She shook her head.
“Not since you and Oliver left for the vicarage, Your Grace,” Bailey confirmed. “Would you like me to look for them?”
“Yes, please,” she said, shoulders sagging. “And ask Mr. Kinsle to rally the rest of the staff. The boys might be in the manor, but I’m afraid they’re out in this storm, and I don’t like thinking what might become of them.”
* * *
A short time later, Hugh moved away from the manor along with Ben Warden, Bailey, Popsby, the stable staff and gardeners, and several of the village men Mrs. Hallet had conscripted and sent their way. His Grace had wanted to come, but Her Grace the First had ruled against it.
“We’ve already lost three dukes in the last few years,” she had insisted. “I will not lose another.”
Sir Winfred had glanced out the window. “Doesn’t look all that dangerous to me. Might be the proving of a man to go.”
The baronet had not volunteered to go himself. And, in the end, the duke had reluctantly remained behind with the duchesses and Colonel Bancroft.
Now the wind tore at Hugh, and rain pelted his face like shards of ice. The chill went to his bones. How much worse would it be for the boys? Neither Pip nor Oliver knew anything about surviving the elements.
Please, Lord, keep them safe. Help us find them!
The prayer repeated in his mind every few steps as he and the others fought their way through the gardens. Already, the daffodils were flattened, and branches littered the ground from the older trees.
“That’s done it for the last of the tulips,” Mr. Foster called as they passed a bed where naked stems whipped in the wind, petals strewn in every direction.
As they had agreed before leaving the house, they split up at the end of the garden.
Ben and Popsby headed for the dower house, in hopes the boys might have taken shelter there.
The gardeners hastened toward some of the other outbuildings for the same reason.
The villagers fanned out across the fields, calling. Hugh and Bailey dove into the woods.
Here, the rain was less bothersome, but the wind set the oaks and birches to moaning and cracking as they swayed. Fallen boughs eclipsed the path, which was already barely visible in the dim light.
“Pip!” Hugh shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. “Oliver!”
Bailey picked up one of the downed limbs and beat back a bush that had crashed over the path. “Pip!” His baritone pierced the gloom. “Oliver!”
“Remind me to enlist you if we start a choir,” Hugh said.
Bailey grinned at him. “I may be calling on your services instead, to perform a marriage ceremony.”
“Miss Turner is a fine woman,” Hugh said. “You are a very fortunate fellow.”
“And don’t I know it.” He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth as well. “Pip! Oliver!”