Chapter Eight #2
It was an odd hobby. Linus didn’t know that he’d ever met anyone who walked long enough and frequently enough for the entire neighborhood to associate her with it. She grew more intriguing the more he learned of her.
Caroline skipped back over to them. She looked up into both their faces. “Miss Lancaster says I am delightful.”
“She is absolutely correct,” Linus said.
Charlie chucked her under the chin. “Have you made another friend, sweetie?”
She nodded.
Good for Artemis. Though his sister had her difficulties and some aspects of her behavior worried him, moments such as these gave Linus hope.
She returned to where they stood, tossing and catching a bowl. “Are you gentlemen ready?”
A commotion nearby pulled all their attention. A swirl of activity had erupted. Adam was barking orders that Linus couldn’t quite make out. Persephone looked utterly frantic.
Linus caught a servant rushing past. “What’s happened?”
“Lord Falstone’s gone missing,” she said.
Merciful heavens.
He turned to Charlie. “Return Miss Caroline to her parents.”
“Of course.” Charlie scooped his niece up into his arms.
Artemis moved swiftly, doing her utmost to keep pace with Linus. He assessed the situation as they approached and knew, without question, Adam was the one to ask for an assignment and not Persephone. She was distraught, while he was in battle mode.
“Give me my orders,” Linus said.
“You and Harry search the copse of trees to the east.”
“Aye aye.” Linus spun and, meeting Harry’s eye, motioned with his head for them to move in the direction they’d been assigned.
“How long has Oliver been missing?” he asked his brother-in-law.
Harry shook his head. “No one is certain.”
Linus swept his gaze over the area as they moved closer to the trees. “How did this happen?”
“Again, no one is certain.”
Adam and Persephone would sort the how of it later. “You head south,” Linus said. “I’ll sweep northward.”
Harry nodded, and they stepped into the trees, each going in their own direction. Oliver was a small boy. He couldn’t have gone far. That was Linus’s one source of consolation. He could not have gone far.
q
Arabella was at a loss. There was absolutely nothing for her to do despite the extensive entertainments planned for the day.
The servants were more than capable of setting up lawn games and tables of food.
Mater had directed their efforts with no show of fatigue.
The one time she had found herself wishing for her shawl, one of the maids had rushed to fetch it before Arabella had had a chance.
She did not seem to be needed the way a companion usually was, nor did anyone seem to expect her to truly fill that role. What, then, was her purpose among the Jonquils?
Seeking permission to undertake her daily walk whilst the afternoon’s games were underway had proven her best option. She would not be in the way, nor would she be left in the uncomfortable position of standing about, wishing she knew how to claim a place among them.
She could not remember when she had first begun walking, but it had become a daily part of her life.
She knew every inch of the area around her uncle’s home, everything from the town of Collingham to the narrow cart path at the far end of the Sarvol estate.
Walking was her escape, her most reliable means of survival.
That day’s excursion she limited to the grounds of Lampton Park nearest where the guests’ activities were taking place. She didn’t allow herself to think too closely on her reasons for staying so near them all, knowing the decision spoke clearly of desperation.
The river Trent ran through the Park grounds. She wandered in that direction. The sound of the running water had often been soothing. She’d sometimes found the earl there, walking as well, his head bent in contemplation, his hands clasped behind his back.
Arabella clutched her fingers around the bead he’d given her and ran it back and forth on its chain. Had the earl also found solace in walking? Or was it the solitude that he’d benefited from? Either way, it had endeared him to her even more. They had had this in common.
She clasped her hands behind her as she walked on, but a sound stopped her in her tracks. She listened more closely. Someone was crying. A very small someone, she would guess.
“Who is there?” She looked around but didn’t immediately spot the source of the cries.
No answer was forthcoming. She stepped off the riverside footpath and farther into the brush. After a moment, she found the child, the same little boy Mr. Lancaster had carried in his arms earlier that day: little Lord Falstone.
Why in heaven’s name was he here? And all alone? The child could not have been more than two or three years old.
Arabella knelt in front of him. “Are you lost, dear?”
He nodded, even as his tears picked up. His hands clutched one of his shins. A closer inspection showed three rivulets of blood seeping down his leg.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
Another nod.
“May I see, please?”
He hesitantly pulled back his hands. A deep gash ran nearly the length of his lower leg. Dirt and tiny bits of rock had lodged inside.
“Is there anyone here with you?” she asked.
He shook his head no. His family was likely frantic, then.
“Let’s get you back to your father and mother.” She lifted him into her arms, careful of his leg. She had no desire to cause him more pain.
The boy leaned heavily against her. “Will Papa be angry?” he asked between shaky breaths.
As far as Arabella knew, the Duke of Kielder was always angry.
How she hoped that did not prove true this time.
“I believe he will be very happy that you have been found.” She held him a little closer as she navigated through the narrow gaps between bushes; her larger frame did not fit into the same small spaces his tiny one had.
“When I was young, I became terribly lost once. Not far from here, in fact.”
“Were you scared?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Did your papa find you?”
Explaining to the already worried little boy that her father had been long dead by the time this particular story had taken place did not seem at all necessary.
And the gentleman who had found her had been enough like a father that she didn’t feel guilty answering as she did.
“Yes. He found me, and he wasn’t angry or scolding.
He was simply happy to have me with him again.
” What she wouldn’t have given to be with him now.
“Oliver!” A voice echoed among the trees.
The little boy perked up. Oliver was likely his Christian name.
“Does that sound like your papa?” she asked.
He shook his head no.
“Oliver! Where are you?”
She paused her navigating of the copse of trees. “I am going to bellow quite loudly, Oliver.” She didn’t want to startle the already overset child. “We are over here!” she called out.
A moment later, Mr. Lancaster came stomping through the underbrush, his expression and demeanor exactly what one would expect of a military man on campaign.
There was a fearsomeness in his expression she’d not seen before.
He eyed her, then Oliver. His aura of determination increased, and he reached them far faster than she would have expected.
“Where did you—?” His gaze froze on the boy’s leg. “What happened?”
“I don’t know any details,” Arabella said. “But the cut is deep and will need a thorough cleaning.”
“I falled,” Oliver said.
Mr. Lancaster’s focus did not lessen. “Has he any other injuries?”
“None that I know of.”
He nodded crisply. He was Lieutenant Lancaster through and through. Firm, commanding, all because his family needed him to be. Little Oliver likely had no idea how fortunate he was to be so deeply cared for.
“You disappeared,” the lieutenant said to his nephew. His fearsome expression softened. He brushed his hand over the little boy’s mud-splattered hair. “We’ve been worried about you, little one.”
“I wanted to see the boats.”
Boats?
Mr. Lancaster paled a little. “You were going to the river?” He turned worried eyes on her.
“He did not get that far,” she said.
“Thank heavens,” Mr. Lancaster whispered. “Let’s get him back to his parents.”
Mr. Lancaster moved with singular purpose. Arabella kept pace with him. They made their way to the edge of the tree line and stepped out onto the lawn where the games, now abandoned, had been set up.
Mr. Lancaster cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to a servant standing at the edge of the back terrace, no doubt watching for the return of anyone sent out to search, “He’s been found!”
The maid waved back and rushed into the house.
Arabella leaned her head a bit closer to Mr. Lancaster and lowered her voice. “Oliver is nervous that his father will be angry with him. I think it might be best if you return him to his parents, as you know them better than I do and will know best how to stave off any storms.”
“The duke will not be angry,” Mr. Lancaster said. “But he can be frightening when he is worried.”
That might very well be interpreted the same way by the anxious little boy. “Oliver,” she said, “would you mind terribly if your uncle carried you the rest of the way to the house?”
He nodded without hesitation or uncertainty. The transfer was made easily and quickly.
“You were very brave,” she told him. “And I know your family will take very good care of you.”
“Were you brave when your papa found you?”
She smiled. He had been paying attention. “I was.”
Oliver squared his tiny shoulders, a firmness to the movement that spoke of resolution. “I’ll be brave some more, even if Papa is angry.”
“I know you will be.” She turned back to Mr. Lancaster. “You’d best hurry. His parents are likely beside themselves.”
She watched as Mr. Lancaster, moving so fast that his short curls bounced against the nape of his neck, carried his nephew to the house.
Were you brave? the sweet boy had asked. While the earl had been alive, she had always been brave. She’d leaned on his strength when her own courage had faltered. She felt as though she’d been struggling ever since.