Page 14 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Mr Oak’s anger seemed to evaporate to something closer to concern and, despite his brusque manner, Evie could not believe he would hurt Mr Stanhope. The two men had appeared to her to be friends.

“I told him not to meddle with things he didn’t understand,” Mr Oak muttered. “What’s happened?”

As no one else seemed capable of speaking without accusing Mr Oak of wrongdoing, Louis ploughed on. “Miss Knight was attacked by Susan Cooper this morning. Miss Cooper tied Miss Knight up and held her captive. Happily, we found her, as you see. Miss Cooper spoke of a man though, someone she referred to as the devil, and how he had gone too far. We know Henry suspected Joe Foster of involvement, but we have been to the church and there is no sign of Foster or Henry, nor Mr Knight and St Clair, who were with him.”

“My father and St Clair went to the village to ask if anyone had seen my sister, or Mr Foster, but the vicar said Henry wasn’t with them,” Evie added desperately. She was horribly afraid someone was going to get hurt and, if they had to waste any more time driving about looking for people, she might run mad.

Mr Oak ran a hand through his unruly black hair. He had been hard at work mending a broken fence and had taken off his coat. His cravat had also been discarded, exposing a strong, tanned throat and the suggestion of wiry hair on his chest. His waistcoat hung open and his sleeves were rolled up to show powerful forearms also covered with dark hair. Despite her anxiety, Evie could not help but stare, fascinated by such a rare display of masculine virility. Most men would never be seen without their coat, let alone in such disarray. Evie had certainly never seen anyone dressed so. She wondered vaguely if Louis César was built in the same fashion beneath his elegant attire, but chased the thought away. There was no time for such frivolous meanderings. Though she doubted there was much that her father could not handle she still worried for him, and for Henry too, for Florence loved him and was clearly worried sick.

“Has anyone been back to the Hall?” Mr Oak asked, to which they all shook their heads. “Right. We’ll start there. It’s an ancient old place that hides secrets aplenty, by my reckoning. Just because Henry never found a tunnel doesn’t mean no one else did. It would explain that corn doll on his pillow, assuming none of the staff are involved.”

“Could they be?” Evie asked as they all hurried back to the carriage.

Mr Oak shrugged on his coat before climbing in after them. “I don’t reckon so. I know everyone who works at the Hall, and they’re all decent folk. I don’t know of any grudges against Henry.”

“And what about you, Mr Oak?” Florence asked, folding her arms and glaring at him.

The carriage fell silent, the sudden jerk and sway a little disconcerting as the horses moved forward, making the prickling atmosphere even more uncomfortable.

Mr Oak stared back at Florence unblinking. “I know you don’t like me, Miss Knight, though I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you. I’ve no pretty manners, I suppose, and I don’t like to talk if I’ve naught to say, but I don’t reckon that’s an offense. All I can tell you is that Henry is my friend, and if he’s got himself in bother, I mean to help him out of it. That’s all.”

“I’m sure my daughter meant no offense,” Mama said and, from the way Florence jolted, Evie suspected she’d delivered a pinch to induce an apology.

Florence merely set her jaw.

“Aye, she did,” Mr Oak said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “But she’s worried for Henry, and I’ve a thick skin, so I’m told. Reckon I’ll wear her dislike right enough.”

Florence held her tongue, stubborn to the last, but Evie knew her sister and she saw the glimmer of doubt in her eyes. If she were wrong, which Evie fervently hoped she was, she would be quick to apologise to Mr Oak. One of the nicest things about Florence was that she never held a grudge. She would always acknowledge if she’d made a mistake and apologise. Evie could only hope that would be soon, preferably after they’d found Henry in one piece. Many girls longed for adventure and excitement, but Evie was not one of them. She much preferred the idea of everyone safe and sound, and thoroughly disliked the stress and anxiety that had made her heart thud in her chest all the time Florence had been missing. It was starting up again now as worry for Henry made her chest tight. She fisted her hands in her skirts and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Courage, ma biche.”

The murmured French was barely audible over the rumble of the carriage, but Evie turned to see Louis César’s bright blue eyes watching her. They were an incredible shade, so vividly blue it was hard to look away from them. Evie had heard descriptions of the Mediterranean sea and hoped to see for herself one day. She wondered if the two colours were comparable. His gaze was placid, reassuring, and much of the tension left her shoulders. Louis did not appear worried, and he had led her straight to Florence this morning. If he was confident all would be well, then so was she. She let out a breath and put up her chin. Everything would be all right.

Florence was beside herself by the time the carriage drew up outside the Hall. Mr Oak and the comte climbed out before any of the ladies could reach the door.

“You should stay here,” Mr Oak commanded, his expression fiercer even than usual.

Florence bristled. Mama glared at him, and even gentle Evie looked a little disgusted.

Ever the diplomat, Louis César qualified the brusque statement. “Until we ascertain all is as it should be.”

“Run along, then,” Mama said, waving them away with a dismissive little sniff.

“Mama!” Florence objected, stunned that her forthright mother would submit to sitting docilely whilst the men attended to business. Mama sent her a quelling look of such ferocity that Florence subsided, wondering what she meant by it.

As soon as the men were out of sight, her mother reached under the carriage seat and slid out a beautiful wooden box. She opened it to reveal two gleaming duelling pistols.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” she said, handing one to Florence.

Mama’s green eyes glittered, and Florence let out a breath.

“I love you, Mama,” she said.

“Of course you do,” her mama replied nonchalantly. “And so you should for the effort I expended in persuading your father to teach you both how to shoot. Do try not to fire at anyone by accident.”

“Don’t I get a pistol?” Evie said indignantly.

“There’s only two, darling, and it’s Florence’s beloved in danger. The next time I promise you may have one.”