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Silas was coming towards her; the old man was almost running in his agitation to impart some news to her. ‘Miss Cavenhurst,’ he said between gasps for breath. ‘Someone’s stole yer trap. I went to tek Bonny some oats and it were gone, Bonny with it.’
Jane could hardly believe it. Could the boys have taken it? Did they know how to harness Bonny? Could they drive it? The answer was yes, they probably could. They hated to be indoors and, ever since coming to Witherington, had spent most of their time outside, following Silas about. They would have watched him with the pony and seen how the old man harnessed him. He had even taken them on short jaunts to pick up supplies for her. ‘Have you seen Tom and Harry?’ she asked him.
‘They were down the garden with me early on, but disappeared after a bit. Don’ know where they went.’
‘Do you think they could have taken the trap?’
‘Why would they do that, miss?’
‘For a lark, perhaps.’
‘I dunno. It in’t hard to drive and Bonny is a placid old thing. I s’pose they could.’
As far as she was aware no one had come to the house that morning, certainly no one who would have reason to go to the stables. It had to be the boys. But where had they gone? And without the trap how could she go after them?
‘I am going to fetch help,’ she told him. ‘If they come back, grab them and don’t let them out of your sight.’
Without even stopping to put on a bonnet, she set off on foot for Broadacres. This was an emergency and she needed Mark’s help. At every step she castigated herself. Whatever had given her the idea she was fit to look after children, especially children damaged by the life they had been forced to lead? She had been a conceited fool to think urchins living as they had been doing on city streets would settle down to a placid life in the country. She ought to have taken on a teacher to give them something positive to do instead of waiting until she had a full class. If her negligence became common knowledge, the gossip alone would ensure she did not take in any more children.
She was almost running, stumbling in her haste. What would Mark say? What would anyone say? She had been too wrapped up in her own misery to look after the children properly, that’s what. ‘Let him be at home,’ she prayed.
She struck out across the fields to cut off a corner and sped across Broadacres park towards the side of the house. Jeremy was in the yard, harnessing the curricle. Almost too out of breath to speak, she stopped in front of him.
‘Miss Cavenhurst, whatever’s afoot?’
‘Fetch Lord Wyndham, please, it’s urgent.’
The man disappeared while she stood with her hand at her aching side, slowly recovering her breath. Mark joined her almost at once. ‘Tom and Harry have run away and they have taken Bonny and the trap. We’ve got to find them.’
He was admirably calm as he helped her into the curricle, climbed up beside her and set the horses off at a fast trot. ‘I don’t know what possessed them to do it,’ she said. ‘They have never given the slightest hint they were unhappy.’
‘All boys like mischief,’ he said. ‘I doubt they will have gone far. We’ll go back to Witherington House first. They might have returned.’
At the crossroads he was forced to slow down. There was a flurry of activity at the Fox and Hounds as a stage coach turned in to change horses, set down passengers and take others up. The inn’s gig was standing by, ready to take incomers to their final destination. As soon as the road was clear he drove on and turned on to the lane to Witherington.
‘I am so thankful you were at home.’
‘We’ll find them, stop worrying.’
‘I cannot help it. It is all my fault. I should have taken more care of them. I should have taken on that teacher we spoke of. I shall never forgive myself if anything bad has happened to them. They could have overturned in a ditch and be lying there, unable to move. They could even be...’ She could not say it.
‘Jane, stop it, stop it at once. You are not to blame and they are how old?’
‘Harry is ten and Tom is nine.’
‘I was driving a gig all over the estate at that age. They are old for their years, Jane. Do not think of them as children, they are very small, very wily adults, used to fending for themselves.’
She managed a smile. ‘Let us hope you are right.’
* * *
They were almost at Witherington House when they saw the trap turn out of a narrow lane in front of them. The boys were in it, but it was being driven by a man. ‘Don’t call out,’ Mark said as he pulled in a little way behind them, matching his horse’s gait to that of Bonny. ‘We do not want to frighten the fellow into galloping. When they leave the lane for the high road, I’ll look for an opportunity to overtake and stop them. I can’t do it here, the road is too narrow.’
