Page 72 of The Cornish Inheritance

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Caroline had trouble getting to sleep that night, and even more trouble staying asleep, so it was a rather the worse-for-wear start to the morning. Patience, arriving with her breakfast tray, found her still in bed, yawning and heavy eyed.

Caroline sat up. “How is it,” she said, “that one spends all the night tossing and turning and unable to sleep, only to fall into the deepest and most refreshing of sleeps just before one has to get up?”

Patience giggled. “I’m sure I don’t know, Miss. It don’t happen to me. I’m asleep the moment my head touches the pillow, because I has to be up at five every morning.”

Suppressing another yawn, Caroline climbed out of bed. “I really need a strong cup of tea. Have you taken Yves his breakfast? Or is he already downstairs in the kitchen?” At least Bridget couldn’t have given him a laudanum-laden dose of the carminative last night. If she’d tried, she’d have had a shock when she found it was just water.

“I’ll go and take it to him now, Miss. He weren’t in the kitchen this morning. At least, I didn’t see him there. Shall I come back here after and help you with your stays?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Patience.”

Patience departed and Caroline poured herself a cup of tea, but this time it was nursery brand and rather weak and tasteless. She added a spoonful of sugar to give her some much needed energy, and nibbled on the bread and butter. When she was dressed, she could go down to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Teague for a nice doorstep slice of bread with some of her fresh butter, all golden and thick. Mmmmm. How ridiculous it was to have that available in the kitchen but send up these thin slices with barely any butter on them. Not enough for a mouse to survive on. For all she knew, Mrs. Treloar might well have decided starvation was a slow but sure method of disposing of Yves—and his governess at the same time.

Patience was back in ten minutes, by which time Caroline had drained the teapot and changed into her shift and drawers, ready to be laced into her stays.

Patience picked up the stays. “Master Yves weren’t in his bedroom, Miss, but I left his tray there, just in case he comes back.”

“And still not in the kitchen with Mrs. Teague?”

Patience fastened the stays around Caroline’s body and started tightening the laces. “No, Miss. Not a sign of him. And I been in there working with Molly, the kitchen maid, for a bit before I brung up your breakfast. I don’t think he’s been in there this morning, which is a bit unusual, I has to say.”

Caroline twisted her head round to peer over her shoulder at Patience. “That’s odd. It’s not like him to miss his food. Whether it’s from Mrs. Teague or what his aunt perceives as suitable for a nursery meal.”

Patience pulled on the stay laces. “Breathe in, Miss.”

Caroline obliged. “Did you ask if anyone had seen him this morning?”

“No, Miss. I’m sure he’s around somewhere, though. He’s a good boy, and he knows he has to do his lessons with you of a morning.”

The stays firmly laced, Patience helped Caroline on with her petticoat and gown and fastened the ties down the back. “There. Would you like me to help with your hair?”

Caroline shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll just braid it and make a bun. Could you take my tray down and, if Yves turns out to be in the kitchen, ask him to come up as soon as he can? And if he’s not… well, you could ask around the servants to see if anyone’s seen him.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Patience scuttled off carrying the tray and Caroline dealt with her hair. Where could that scamp have got to? Perhaps she ought to go down to the kitchens and question the other servants herself rather than rely on Patience, who clearly wasn’t bothered about Yves’s absence. After all, she didn’t know what Caroline knew.

With hurried steps, as now a nub of unease had formed in her stomach, she made her way down to the kitchen.

Mrs. Teague was busy at the stove, as usual, her face flushed red with the heat.

“No,” she said, on being questioned. “I haven’t seen the lad. I thought as maybe he was still in bed. Like yesterday. Patience already asked me. Like I said to her, Dash’s still here, so he hasn’t been in to get the dog yet.” Her brows met in a worried frown. “What d’you think he’s up to, then? Some mischief, I’ll be bound, knowing him.”

Caroline shook her head. “I have no idea, but I need to find him.” She bit her lip. “It’s very important that I find him.”

Questioning of the other servants who kept coming in and out of the kitchen provided no clues. No one had seen Yves that morning. Had he even come down here? Thanking them, Caroline went out into the stableyard. It might be a good idea to check if Blossom was there.

The little gray was snug in her small loosebox, munching away on her breakfast hay. But Folly was not. Had Hetty gone out riding? Caroline retraced her steps and ran along the gallery to Hetty’s room.

With no preamble, she pushed open the door. Hetty was still in bed, but she sat up when Caroline came in, rubbing her eyes. “Goodness. What is it? It’s too early to be getting up yet.”

Caroline improvised. “I thought Yves might be with you.”

Hetty yawned. “I should hope not at this time of the morning, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He can be quite horrid when he tries.”

“He’s a boy, that’s why.” Caroline scanned the room. “Did he happen to indicate where he might be going today? I have an uneasy feeling he might be up to no good as he’s missed his breakfast.”