Page 68 of The Cornish Inheritance

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Caroline found Hetty still with her grandfather, but Yves and Dash had gone. She’d been reading aloud to him but the old man had nodded off, and Hetty had moved over to the window and was sitting reading to herself when Caroline stole in on tiptoe.

“Where’s Yves gone?” Caroline whispered, with a glance at the bed, but Sir Hugh didn’t stir. His grandchildren must have tired him out. That, and the worry about Nat. Or the laudanum. The worry that she didn’t know how it worked bothered Caroline.

Hetty closed her book and rose to her feet, the evening sunlight dancing in her rich auburn hair. “Yves said this book was boring and he wanted to go outside. I couldn’t stop him.” She didn’t sound worried, though. But then, she didn’t know about the conspiracy. A conspiracy Caroline felt had grown much more real since Nat’s accident.

“Do you know where he went?”

Hetty shrugged. “Where does he always go? The kitchens in search of food. I swear that boy has hollow legs. And he never gets any fatter, which is most unfair.”

“Shall we leave Sir Hugh to sleep? Come along. And it’s time you did some more piano practice—you’ve not done any at all today, what with the chaos going on. Now Nat’s safe and sound, you can do half an hour before you have to get ready for dinner.”

Hetty pulled a face. “If I must.”

Leaving the book behind on Sir Hugh’s bedside table, they tiptoed out of the room and descended the stairs to the quiet front hall. Hetty headed off to the music room, and Caroline took the corridor to the kitchens at the back of the house. Mrs. Teague was in there with Molly the kitchen maid, but there was no sign of Yves.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Teague,” Caroline said. “Have you seen Master Yves?”

Mrs. Teague wiped her greasy hands on her stained apron. “I have that, Miss. He were down here looking for something to eat. When isn’t he, I’d like to say. That boy eats like more’n one horse, I can tell you. I gave him some bread and jam and he spotted Mr. Trefusis passing down the corridor and ran off after him.”

Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. “When was this?”

“’Bout ten minutes gone.”

“Going which way?”

“Out into the stable courtyard.”

Caroline hastened back into the corridor and headed for the back door. That Yves was alone with Trefusis chilled her blood, but surely, surely, he wouldn’t try anything on the day Nat had almost perished? That would look like too much of a coincidence, even for someone as determined as he appeared to be.

She pushed open the door into the stableyard. Empty. Where could they have gone? No sign of either of the Pascoes either. She’d better look in the stables and tack room.

No one there either, just a row of contented horses munching hay.

For a moment nonplused, Caroline stood biting her lip in the wide, arched doorway into the stable block. Could Trefusis have taken Yves off somewhere?

Laughter sounded from beyond the arched gateway of the yard, and Yves came running in, Dash barking at his heels, all by himself.

Caroline let her breath out with a sigh. “Yves, where’ve you been? I’ve been searching for you and thought you’d gone off and got lost like Nat, and I was going to have to get a search party out after you.”

Yves skidded to a halt, a decidedly guilty look on his face. “Nowhere.” Dash bounced around him in excitement, uttering little yips.

“Mrs. Teague told me you went off with Mr. Trefusis.”

Yves regarded his booted feet. “Oh, he’s gone now. He had work to do.”

Why did his attempt at nonchalance sound so stilted? Caroline narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t think of anything else to ask. “Well, it’s nearly time for your supper, and I ought to change for dinner. Although I think I might send my apologies to your aunt and tell her after today I have such a headache, that I’d best eat with you in the schoolroom.” Anything was better than another meal with Mrs. Treloar, Trefusis, and no Nat.

Yves brightened. “I’ll ask Mrs. Teague if she can send up an egg tea for us. I’d like that, and so would you. Come on, Dash.”

Yves extracted the required promise from Mrs. Teague for the egg tea, and she shortly proved as good as her word. A tea of two boiled eggs apiece along with ample bread and butter came upstairs with Patience and was served in the schoolroom with a pot of tea. Quite a banquet by the normal standards of nursery tea. Yves’s slightly reluctant demeanor, as though he was hiding something, vanished, and Caroline dismissed her worries. He might have gone running after Trefusis, but the man hadn’t dared do anything to him.

After tea, Caroline left Yves playing with his toy soldiers on the floor of the nursery and carried the tea tray down to the kitchen. Dinner upstairs was over, and Mrs. Teague made up another tray, also of boiled eggs, bread and butter and tea, for Caroline to take upstairs for Nat.

At precisely seven o’clock, by the striking of the hall clock, she knocked lightly on Nat’s door. No answer. She waited a minute then tapped again. Still no answer. Should she go in? Several not so comforting reasons for his lack of answering flashed through her mind, including the fact that the head wound she’d treated might have been worse than she thought and caused his death, which would undoubtedly lead to her being dismissed on the spot. Or he could be concussed and in a coma. A young man near Cadley had fallen from his horse out hunting and sustained a head wound similar to Nat’s which had resulted in a coma that lasted for nearly a week. And then he’d died.

Fighting to control her nerves, she pushed the door open and went in.