Page 98 of The Work of Art

The stable boy came in, cap in hand.

“Tell him,” Greene commanded.

“You see, sir…” Thomas clutched his cap. “She said she were coming back directly. So, I saddled her mare. When she didn’t come back…I thought…”

“It’s not your job to think, is it now?” Greene growled. “The lad thought Mrs. Heywood had come back to the house with you,” he said to Arthur. “Didn’t think to tell anyone until I returned from the north pasture.”

Arthur’s blood went cold. The dogs’ barking was more insistent. He registered for the first time that Basil was not amongst them. “Crofton, send for my wife’s maid. Find out if she’s in her room. Greene, why are only three of the dogs here?”

“They was out in pasture, sir,” Thomas offered, shamefaced. “They come back half an hour ago.”

“Only three of them?”

“Yes, sir.”

Arthur fixed Thomas with an icy stare. “Did my wife go out into the pasture?”

The boy visibly swallowed. “I don’t rightly know, Captain Heywood. I was in the stables—”

“I’ve a few men at the ready to go out searching for her,” Greene said. “And a gig for you, if you like. She can’t have got far.”

Arthur moved from behind his desk, striding past the servants out into the hall, his cane clacking against the floor as he went. The dogs scrambled after him, along with Greene and Thomas.

Mrs. Lamb was just coming down the stairs with Sara in tow. Violet trailed behind them.

“Mrs. Heywood hasn’t come back from riding, sir,” Sara said.

Arthur could no longer keep his temper in check. “And it didn’t occur to you to tell anyone?”

Sara cringed back against Mrs. Lamb.

The housekeeper did a creditable job of keeping her composure. “Sara thought Mrs. Heywood was with you, sir. We all did.”

Mrs. Ogilvy appeared on the landing in a beribboned wrapper with a lace nightcap perched on her head. “What’s all this commotion? Has something happened to Phyllida?”

Arthur’s father soon joined her, emerging from the drawing room with a book in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Mrs. Heywood went out for her ride and hasn’t come back, my lord,” Mrs. Lamb informed him. “No one can find her.”

Questions and answers were shouted out across the main hall. Mrs. Ogilvy withdrew to her room to dress, and the earl came downstairs to join Arthur. Mrs. Lamb organized the female servants to search the house. Crofton directed the male house servants to search the gardens. Arthur removed to the stable yard with Greene, Thomas, and William, the dogs following in their wake.

“He’s a good boy is Thomas,” Greene said as they walked. “I told him to saddle your horses, but naught else. Never for a minute thought he’d—”

“Not now.” Arthur’s voice was rigid with controlled fury. The last thing he wanted to hear were excuses. Not that any were needed. The fault was his and his alone, and well he knew it.

The shrill whinny of Hyperion reverberated through the stable yard. He trotted loose in the paddock, tossing his head to the men as they went by.

“When did Hyperion return?” Arthur asked.

“An hour ago, sir,” Thomas said. “He come back just like ye said he would.”

Arthur’s stomach was leaden as he divided the men to go out onto the grounds and search. Greene and several of the grooms mounted horses. Most were on foot. Arthur himself got into a gig with William at the reins and the three dogs in the back. He’d be damned if he was going to stay behind simply because he couldn’t walk out with the same vigor as the rest of the men.

“The pond, the apple orchard, the riding path through the elms!” Greene shouted to the men as he wheeled his horse around toward the gate. “She can’t have walked far. If she’s met with any mischief—”

“She won’t have met with mischief, Mr. Greene,” William proclaimed. “She has Basil with her.”

Arthur’s hand tightened on his cane until the wood creaked beneath his fingers. He could hear Philly’s voice as clear as anything: My grandfather always said that if I were ever in any real danger, Basil would gladly give his life to save mine.