Chapter Twenty-Four
The loose-lipped Archie soon had Lochinvar ready for Harry, who mounted using the block in the yard.
A feeling that he needed to hurry had come over him as he left the girls and now he urged the big horse into a long-striding trot.
His leg ached immediately but it was a good ache, as he felt it meant he was getting somewhere.
The mile along the lane to Rampton took him only ten minutes, with a couple of brief periods at a walk to rest his leg, and he was at the gate considering how to get through it when Betsey came out of the house and spotted him.
“Sir Henry.” She executed a curtsy and approached the gate.
He would have taken his hat off to her had he been wearing one. “Good morning, Betsey.” He smiled. “I’ve come to see your mistress.”
She didn’t smile back and he had the distinct impression she was disapproving of a second visit by him in one day. She must be thinking it was not at all the done thing for a gentleman to keep calling on a lady like this. She shook her head. “She’s not here.”
Harry was aware of his face falling. “Oh.”
Betsey relented. “I did think as she’d ridden over to the Hall to take you round some more of the tenant farms.” And now she sounded unsure of herself and a faint frown of worry marred her wrinkled brow. “Did you not see her, sir?”
Harry shook his head, positive that had she been anywhere near the Hall he would have known. “No, her daughters are there but she isn’t.” He chewed his lip. “You say ‘ridden?’ She took her horse?”
Betsey nodded. “She took Traveler out a good hour and a half gone. You certain sure she’s not at the Hall?”
“I’ve just come from there. As I said, only her daughters are there.”
What to do now? He took his right leg out of the stirrup and stretched it to ease the ache. And at that moment Dick emerged from the stables holding a broom.
“Dick, come here, can you,” Harry called out.
The boy leaned the broom against the wall and loped over. “Sir Henry.” He tugged his thick forelock and sketched an awkward bow.
“When Lady Madeley rode out this morning, did you see where she rode to?”
Dick scratched his tousled hair, which had a few bits of straw in it.
“She come out about two hours ago and asked me to get Traveler in for her from the field, so I did. She were in a bit of a hurry, I think. He’d rolled in the mud so it took me a bit of time to groom him for her, and then she jumped on and were off down the track in a canter.
I dint see which way she went at the lane on account of you can’t see the end from here in the yard.
” He shuffled his feet. “I did think as she was going up to the Hall.” He grinned. “To see you.”
Did everyone know their secret?
Harry chewed his bottom lip some more. That was of no use at all. Where could she have gone? He was going to have to look for her, but where to start?
It was at that point that hooves sounded on the track behind Harry. He looked over his shoulder. A man on a bay cob was approaching in a trot. His face seemed familiar. Was he one of the footmen from Thornby Grange? He did not seem at home on a horse. Whatever was he doing here?
The newcomer brought his horse to a halt beside Harry’s and nodded his head in some semblance of respect. “Good morning, Sir Henry. I’ve a message for Miss Madeley.” He fished a folded and sealed missive from an inner pocket.
“She’s not here,” Harry said. “Give it to her housekeeper.”
Betsey held out her pudgy hand and Dick regarded the footman with open hostility. It seemed Sir Julian’s reputation adhered to those who worked for him.
“I’ve to give it only to Miss Madeley,” the footman persisted, a hunted expression on his face. “I’m told ’tis a private matter.”
“Well, you can’t,” the redoubtable Betsey snapped. “Because she isn’t here. You’ll have to give it to me, young man, or I’ll box your ears for you.”
Even though he was on a horse on the opposite side of the gate to her, the footman quailed at this threat. He leaned forward and handed her the letter.
“Are you to wait for an answer?” Harry asked as Betsey broke the seal.
The footman shook his head. Was that a hint of fear in his eyes. He was definitely on the shifty side. Harry reached out and took hold of his horse’s reins near the bit. “I think you’d best stay until Miss Betsey has read it.”
The footman glanced to right and left in panic, but was happily not such a horseman that he thought he could wrench his reins free and gallop off. Which was lucky as Harry would not have been able to stop him.
Betsey looked up at Harry, her face creased with worry.
“It’s from Sir Julian Horncastle,” she said.
“Lady Madeley rode over there this morning and has been tooken ill. This letter says she’s unable to return.
Sir Julian tells us not to worry and that he will take care of her.
” She gave a derisory harumph at that last bit.
“Taken ill within hours of being perfectly fine?” Harry asked, glaring at the footman. “What do you know of this? You’re an indoor servant. I assume you know everything. You’d better tell us right now, and make it quick.”
The footman had gone deathly pale. No doubt he’d been hoping to be well on his way home before the letter was read. “I don’t know nothing,” he said, although his face gave this away as a lie. Of course he knew what was going on there.
“Dick, grab hold of his horse,” Harry said.
Dick was over the gate almost before Harry finished speaking and took the reins from Harry.
With a neat flick he had them over the horse’s head.
Now the man was going nowhere even if he decided to be brave enough to try.
He was reduced to holding the pommel instead and looking from one to the other of his captors with real terror in his eyes.
“You tell me right now what’s wrong with my Miss Miranda,” Betsey snarled, resembling a pugnacious guard dog more than a staid housekeeper. “She were right as ninepence this morning and it’s scarce after midday now. I don’t believe a word of what this scoundrel’s telling us in his letter.”
The footman cowered, and Harry decided right then never to get on the wrong side of her.
“I don’t know,” the footman muttered, staring down at his hands on the pommel, but he was crumbling.
“Where is Lady Madeley?” Harry snapped.
Dick looked as though he’d like to pull the man off the horse and give him a pummelling. He might only be sixteen or so, but he was already a well-grown lad and would have been handy in a boxing ring. Harry wouldn’t have liked to have been the recipient of his anger.
The footman glanced to left and right again as though in the faint hope that aid might come to him by some miracle. He took a deep breath. “She’s locked in the pink bedroom with Baxter the gardener outside the door to make sure she can’t get out.”
“Locked in a bedroom?” Harry couldn’t prevent his voice from rising. “Whatever for?” His fists had clenched and anger rose through his body.
“To stop her escaping,” muttered the poor footman. “Before Sir Julian can get his common licence. He’s sent off one of the grooms on a fast horse to go get one.”
A stunned silence settled over all four of them.
Betsey found her voice first. “Sir Julian thinks he’s going to be able to force my Miss Miranda to marry him? By keeping her locked in a bedroom? Is he addle pated?” She shook her head. “The man wants locking up.”
Harry had to agree that she was right.
The footman, head hanging, nodded dumbly.
Harry gathered his reins. “I’m going there now.
” If only he’d thought to bring one of those duelling pistols with him.
If he’d known Miranda was missing, he would have, but he didn’t want to waste valuable time by going back for one.
And anyway, surely Sir Julian wasn’t so deranged as to be dangerous.
“Not on your own, you ain’t, Sir Henry.” Dick reached up and yanked the unfortunate footman off the horse with little difficulty, carelessly throwing the man into the mud, where he proceeded to cower.
“I’m coming with you.” And he was on the horse in a moment.
Ex-gardener’s boy or not, he seemed to know his way about a horse.
For a moment Harry wondered if he should send the boy to fetch the constable, but common sense told him he was going to need reinforcements. He couldn’t be sure his leg wouldn’t let him down when he needed it most.
He nodded at Dick. “You come at your own risk. If the man could shoot at his gardener’s boy, then he won’t think twice about shooting at us if he thinks he’s cornered.”
Dick, his eyes alight with excitement, nodded. “You just let me at him,” he almost snarled. “Kidnapping her ladyship like that. I’ll kick’im where it hurts the most, I will, gun or no gun.”
But someone needed to fetch the constable and do it quickly. His eyes fell on the footman who had now regained his feet, mud all down one side of him. “You. What’s your name?”
“Jack Ashby, Sir Henry.” If anything he looked even more cowed.
“Your master’s going to prison for this, so do you want a new job?”
Jack’s eyes flew wide and hope lit them. “Yessir. I do that.”
“Then get Miss Betsey back to my house now, as fast as you can, and send my coachman to Naseby to fetch the constable to Thornby. He’s going to be needed.
And don’t stop there. Take another horse and get to the nearest magistrate as well and tell him what’s happened.
Do all that and you’ll be second footman at the Hall after this. ”
“Yessir. I’ll do that, sir. Thank you, sir, thank you.”