by Ruby Moone
“The breakfast room is locked. Could you be a dear?”
He bit his lip in frustration when neither had a key, but one of them trotted off to find one. It felt like hours before he returned, but return he did, and he unlocked the door. He didn’t flinch at finding two men standing in there with one of the windows put out.
“Thank you,” Tristan said, and when the footman disappeared, he breathed again and went into the room.
“Did you find him?”
“No. I just managed to get my way back here. He could have taken him anywhere. There must be miles of corridors in this damned place.”
“Well, we will just have to search,” Gareth said.
“I agree. We could split up?” Tristan said.
“Weapons!” murmured Gareth. “We need weapons.”
“You have a knife. I slid it into your breeches whilst I was fondling your arse,” Alfie said to Gareth. Gareth’s eyes widened. “You did?”
Alfie smiled.
Gareth stared and nodded, then nodded again.
“We need to see if the children are still there,” Tristan said. “I will check the room.”
“You look at the corridors by the bedchambers then,” Gareth said. Tristan nodded and ran ahead. He reached the rooms, but as he feared, the boys were not there. He ran along the corridor trying the doors. Some opened, some did not. Those that did not he rattled the handles and called for Sam. Nothing. Not a sound, not another guest, nothing. Tristan plunged his hands through his hair as he got the end of the corridor and he hadn’t located a soul. He ran back to where he began to go down the other wing, but as he did so he found Gareth racing along it.
“Tristan, Tristan,” he called. “Alfie thinks they are leaving. Wallingford’s coach has just raced down the drive at full tilt.
“Bastard,” whispered Tristan. “We have to follow.”
Tristan and Gareth ran to the stables, but they had to be about half a mile from the house. They arrived, out of breath and sweating, to find Alfie arguing with a groom, hands on hips.
“What is it?” Tristan said, mopping his head with his handkerchief as he approached the two.
“All the horses are gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Tristan said, shoving the handkerchief back in his pocket. Gareth pushed past to go into the stalls.
“Sir, his lordship bade us exercise the remaining ones this morning. The grooms have them out on the hills. They won’t be very long as they are back, maybe a couple of hours or so?”
“Remaining horses? Where are the other guests?”
“Mostly they have left, sir.”
Tristan wanted to scream. They had been outmanoeuvred. Comprehensively.
“Thank you,” Tristan managed and the man bowed and walked away.
“Well, we can either wait for the horses to return or leave on foot,” Alfie said.
“What about our things?” Gareth said.
Tristan scratched his head and stared about him as though he might find an answer somewhere. “Ollie said that the children lived in a farmhouse nearby. We might be able to walk to that and find horses?”
“I doubt they would hand any over to us.” Gareth said.
“I won’t be asking them to,” Tristan said. “I think we should go back to the house, pick up anything you want to take, and then if the horses have not returned we set off on foot.”
“Where might this farmhouse be?” Alfie asked as they fell into step.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“It might all be a trick?” Gareth said. “He might have set off down the road to make it look like he is taking Sam somewhere but has kept him back at the house.”
Alfie nodded. “I thought about that, but I think that if that were the case, they would have left horses for us to follow.”
They were silent for a moment. “I could stay behind and look?” Alfie said.
Tristan shuddered. “No. I think we need to stay together. I think Wallingford is capable of doing great harm. We just need to decide which direction to travel in and hope it leads us to the farmhouse.”
Alfie nodded. “There is, of course, a much simpler way to work out how to get to the farmhouse.”
Tristan looked at him expectantly, wondering what he had missed.
“We could ask the groom?” he said with an infuriating smile.
Chapter 16
As it turned out, the groom was enormously helpful. It took less than an hour to walk there. The groom had explained that the farm provided the house with produce, and Mr Mosely was the steward. He also mentioned that he would most likely be at home for the morning. Alfie had thanked him, and they set off.
When they arrived, they decided that, as Alfie was the only one that Mosely might not recognise, he should go and ask for assistance to see what he could find out. Alfie motioned for Tristan and Gareth to stay behind a wall, well out of sight. Gareth flopped onto the grass. Tristan peered over the top to watch what Alfie did.
He marched up to the door and hammered on it imperiously. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief as he waited for a response.
“What?” a garrulous voice shouted from behind the closed door.
“I need assistance. Would you be so good as to open the door?”
The door inched open a crack to reveal a large, dark-haired man who peered out and stared at Alfie. It wasn’t Mosely.
“What do you want?”
“I’m afraid my horse had a mishap and I need to get to London. If you could loan me a horse, or even better, a horse carriage, you would be doing me an enormous service,” he said. “You would be very well paid,” he added when the man looked unimpressed.
“Haven’t got any,” the man said, pushing the door shut. Frustration gripped Tristan hard.
Alfie hammered on the door again. “Would you be kind enough to open the door so I can speak to you properly?”
The door opened a fraction. “Nothing to say.” The man slammed the door in his face.
“Let’s head for the stables,” Gareth said, struggling to his feet. “We can help ourselves and leave money if he won’t listen. We can snoop about a bit to see if Ollie and Arthur are here.”
Alfie came back to where they were hidden, and shook his head. “Miserable bastard.”
“Make it look as though you are leaving and then double back. We will see what livestock he has and help ourselves. When he realises what we’ve done it will be too late,” Gareth said.
“Good plan,” muttered Alfie, and set off down the road from the main house and made a show of leaving.
* * * *
Tristan and Gareth hid a little way from the farm in an old sheep shed whilst Alfie disappeared from sight.
“We still have no idea where he has taken Sam,” Tristan said after a while, voicing the thing that had been hammering inside his head ever since they had set off from the house. He couldn’t bear the overwhelming sense of helplessness, and the feeling that he had completely failed Sam that threatened to engulf him.
“He will end up back in Dante’s, I would say,” Gareth said. “I can only think that he means us to follow. Who knows what Dante is thinking?”
Alfie’s footsteps quietened them. As he crunched his way over to the shed they stood up and brushed twigs away.
He looked out over the landscape. “There seems to be only one real road out from the house, so I think we must presume if we follow it we will eventually reach civilisation and be able to fathom the way back to London.
“They have a good hour on us, Alfie,” Tristan said, heaving himself up. “Let’s get a move on.”
After some argument, they agreed that Alfie and Tristan would slip into the stables and see what was there, and Gareth would look for any sign of Ollie and Arthur.
Tristan edged along the low wall, feeling that at least he was doing something useful. He waited whilst a groom berated one of the stable lads for his lack of skill with the horses, and then, when they took the discussion out
side, he and Alfie edged in cautiously checking that no-one was around. It was a very well stocked stable, probably ten or so horses, which surprised Tristan. The buildings beyond suggested that they did have carriages, but Tristan doubted he would have either the time or the opportunity to get to them. The horses whickered softly and stamped as he walked by them but he crooned softly, touching and stroking as he went. There was a door near the back of the stable that looked unused. Tristan motioned to Alfie, and they cleared some of the debris away. Tristan put his shoulder to the door. It moved. This would be a much better way out. If he could get three out, then they would be laughing.
“I will clear a path; you see if you can saddle the horses. If we can get them out this way, we stand a chance of not being seen.”
He paused, listening, and then disappeared. Tristan looked at the three horses nearest the rear door. They looked like prime specimens. He paused by a bin and filled his pockets with carrots and slid into the first stall. He let out a breath of relief when he found tack hanging there. Swiftly, he bridled the horse, crooning as he went, and holding a carrot in his palm for the horse to find, he patted him gently on the neck, and then threw the saddle over as quickly as he could. Pleased, he moved to the second stable to begin again, and by the time he made his way to the third he was feeling flushed with success. All he needed to do now was lead them out…he paused as the main door to the stable slid open and a figure moved in and stood stock still. It wasn’t Alfie.
Tristan’s heart beat almost out of his chest as he cursed himself for his carelessness. Sun haloed the figure making it difficult to discern, but then the figure whirled and closed the door behind him and then ran into the stable.
Ollie. Tristan’s knees almost buckled. “Ollie,” he said. “Oh, Ollie, thank God you are safe. We were so worried.” He took the boy by the shoulders.
Ollie stared at him a moment and then smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“They took Sam. Wallingford took Sam. You might know him as Dante?”
Ollie’s eyes widened. “Dante?” he whispered. “Dante has Sam?”
“I am afraid so. I am here with Alfie and Gareth trying to get some horses so we can follow. Can you help me?”
Ollie regarded him for a moment. “Dante was here earlier. I hid.”
Tristan stared. “Can you find out if he is still in the house? If Sam is with him?”
Ollie nodded. “I had better go back; they will wonder where I have gone. Where are you hiding?”
Tristan described the sheep shed where they had rested. Ollie just nodded. “Leave the horses. I will bring them to you. People won’t take as much notice if I do it.”
“Ollie?” Tristan stopped the boy as he made to leave. Ollie turned with raised eyebrows. “Don’t do anything difficult, or anything that will put either you or Arthur in danger. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord.” He smiled, saluted, and trotted off.
* * * *
Barely half an hour later, Ollie arrived at the sheep shed calling for Tristan. Alfie put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder and motioned for silence. He slid away and then moments later when Ollie called again Alfie emerged from behind them and nodded.
“Over here,” Tristan called, and the boy grinned and ran over.
“I have found out things for you, but you have to promise something first.” His too old eyes were serious.
“I will do my best.”
Ollie took a deep breath and then stuck out his chin. “Sam isn’t here anymore. Dante took him. Sam said he would take us with him to get us away from Mosely. If we help you find Sam will you take us to him and get us away from here?”
Tristan wanted to hug the boy, but he stuck out a hand. “It’s a deal.” Ollie shook.
Ollie was still staring. “And Arthur?”
“And Arthur.”
Ollie swallowed and took a breath. “We have a friend. She’s called Winifred. She only arrived yesterday, but if we don’t get her out they will start taking her to the big house, too.” Ollie frowned. “She’s even smaller than Arthur.”
Tristan opened his mouth and closed it again. “Winifred would be welcome to join us.”
Ollie turned and yelled his brother’s name and Arthur appeared clutching the hand of a small girl. They both came to stand by Ollie’s side.
“This is Winifred. Winifred, this is Tristan. He’s an earl. He’s going to help us get away. He knows the king.”
Winifred turned dark eyes to Tristan. She didn’t speak so he just smiled.
“This way.” Ollie grabbed Arthur’s hand, pointed through the trees, and they duly followed.
They reached a clearing after about ten minutes of walking and Tristan gaped at what waited for them. A sturdy looking closed carriage with two horses, and two other horses stood loose, munching on grass.
“Ollie, old chap, you are an absolute marvel,” Alfie said, pausing to ruffle the boy’s hair.
“Sam was at the house,” Ollie said softly to Tristan. “I didn’t know, truly I didn’t. I would have done something to help if I had, I swear it.”
“I know you would. How long ago did they leave?” Tristan’s heart was beating fast. Perhaps they were not too far away from them.
“Not very long ago. I asked about a little and found that they are heading for London and the club.” Ollie paused, and then gave a small smile. “Apparently Dante has a black eye.”
Tristan wanted to cheer on the one hand, but on the other felt a sense of deep unease about what Dante might do to Sam if angered more than he already was.’
“Good for Sam,” Alfie said with cheer, and grinned at the boy. “Come, let us not waste a moment.”
The small boys grinned back and clambered into the carriage, pulling Winifred after them, but Tristan saw the look on Gareth’s face. “What?” he asked, not wanting the answer.
“Dante likes his boys to fight back.”
There was nothing to say to that.
* * * *
Tristan was frankly astonished when they made it back to London without incident. He had fully expected them to be caught, followed, challenged, but none of these things occurred. They had an uneventful journey, and got the children settled in his London town house without a problem.
His butler, Henderson, was eyeing them with some misgiving as they stood in the calm of his study.
“How are your skills with young children, Henderson?”
“Non-existent, my lord,” Henderson said, and offered a small bow.
“Could you procure clothing for them that would befit nephews and a niece of mine?”
Henderson blinked. Slowly. “Of course. Ah, nephews and a niece, my lord?”
“Indeed. Distant branch of the family, fallen on hard times and needed a rescuer, so I stepped into the breach.”
“I see.”
Tristan smiled at Henderson. Ever the impeccable servant he would never question his master’s actions, but the questions flickered in his normally blank expression, none the less.
“They will need a nanny to care for them and a tutor to see to their education. I don’t think they have had above much in the way of tutoring.”
“Would you like me to arrange this for you?”
“Could you?”
“I have a cousin who is seeking work as a tutor, my lord. I wouldn’t recommend him if I wasn’t convinced that he could do a superlative job.”
“Well then. Let me meet him.”
“I shall arrange it, my lord.” Henderson bowed.
Tristan hesitated, and then made a decision. “Henderson, the children were treated very badly.”
Henderson’s eyes widened a little. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“I mean very badly. Very badly indeed. They look well, but they may take a little while to settle, and they are terribly afraid.”
“You may be assured that I and the rest of the staff will make their stay as pleasant as possible.”
Tristan took another decision. “I
would like it to be known amongst the staff that, under no circumstances whatsoever, is the Marquess of Wallingford to be allowed entrance to the house. If he makes any such attempt, I am to be informed immediately.”
Henderson’s look was speculative. “As you wish it.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. “Ah,” said Tristan, smiling at Henderson. “This will be them now. I am sure that you will welcome them.”
Henderson looked momentarily horrified, but then arranged his features suitably and went to open the door. It was indeed the children with his housekeeper, Mrs Crawley.
“Tristan!” Ollie said as he slid through the door. “We have a nursery for us all.”
Arthur followed more cautiously, but there was the definite beginning of a smile on his face. “It is indeed all for you. Children, I would like you to meet my butler, Mr Henderson. If you need anything he will be able to help you. I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect though, he is a very, very valued member of my staff.”
“Mr Henderson,” Ollie said with wide eyes, and executed a small bow. Arthur followed suit and Winifred just stared. “I am very pleased to meet you.”
Henderson’s expression was inscrutable, but there was a kindness in his eyes that Tristan was sure that the boys saw, too. “Master Oliver, Master Arthur, Miss Winifred.” He bowed to each in turn. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
The children were wide eyed.
“Between Mrs Crawley and Mr Henderson you should be well catered for.” He smiled at Mrs Crawley, who beamed back.
When the children left with the housekeeper, Henderson turned and gave him a speculative look. “May I speak freely, my lord?”
“Of course.”
Henderson hesitated, bit his lip, and then appeared to take the plunge. “If Wallingford has any involvement with the children then it is little wonder they are subdued. You have my absolute word that I will keep them away from him and anyone connected with him.”
Tristan gaped at the man. “What do you know of Wallingford?”
“Servants…talk.”
Something very much like fear set up in the pit of Tristan’s stomach. “Talk?”
“Lord Wallingford has a…reputation. Did you rescue the children from him? No. Don’t answer that. It is better that we don’t know. Perhaps if you could give some thought to the branch of the family from whence they came and then we have a clear explanation for their arrival in a bachelor household? I will make sure that it is well known.”
