by Candace Camp
Francesca frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose he would have. But it could be that when Radbourne was a child someone was hiding him, trying to keep anyone from locating him. But now that he is an adult, he is no longer hidden. Indeed, he is a successful businessman and therefore easy to find." She paused, then continued. "What does Radbourne think—that his father did not try to find him?"
Irene shrugged. "I am not sure. It seems unlikely. But I have thought about it a good deal since Radbourne mentioned it, and there were a number of oddities about the whole thing."
"Oddities?" Francesca frowned and leaned a little closer. "What oddities?"
"Well ... for instance, why did the kidnappers take both the boy and his mother? A child would be easy to handle. Less noticeable. But a woman and a child—one has two people to try to control. A woman is more difficult to conceal or to carry. And a mother bent on saving her child is certain to struggle, wouldn't you think?"
"Yes. But perhaps they could not snatch the child except when he was with his mother. He was only a little boy, so he was probably always with his nurse or his mother. They could also have presumed that they would get a higher ransom for both of them."
"Did they demand ransom for both?" Irene asked.
"I have no idea. I never asked about it."
"And what happened to his mother? If the boy was turned loose by himself, I can understand that he would not know where to go or what to do. He might not remember his home or be able to tell anyone where he was from or who his father was. And if he did, people might just assume it was a jest. But his mother would have come back here."
"Maybe he was not turned loose. Maybe they kept him and raised him."
Irene thought about this idea for a moment. She supposed that it was possible that the Jack Sparks Gideon had lived with could have been the one who abducted him. Still, that left questions unanswered. "Then where was his mother?"
"They may have killed her," Francesca responded.
"And why did they not give him back when his father paid the ransom? Everyone assumed that they had killed the boy, and that was why they did not return him. But obviously they did not."
"Give who back? What are you girls talking about?" Lady Odelia's voice boomed from across the room.
Francesca cast her an apprehensive glance. "Oh. Um. Why, nothing."
"Nothing?" Lady Odelia arched one eyebrow. "How can you talk about nothing?"
"We were discussing Lord Radbourne's kidnapping," Irene explained calmly. "Lady Haughston did not wish to disturb you."
Gideon's grandmother gasped, but Lady Odelia merely grunted and said, "Obviously you have no such compunction."
"It is my belief that if one asks about another person's conversation, then one must be prepared to hear about whatever that conversation was," Irene retorted imperturbably.
Humor glinted for an instant in the older woman's eyes. "I see. Pert young thing, aren't you?"
"Yes, indeed she is," Teresa put in. Irene had not noticed that Teresa had come into the room while she and Francesca were talking. Now Teresa walked over to sit down with the older women, at some remove from Francesca and Irene.
Teresa looked at Irene with disdain as she went on. "I find that Lady Irene also seems to be remarkably concerned with other people's affairs."
Lady Claire, who was just entering the room, colored a little and hastened to intervene. "I am sorry, Lady Odelia, I am afraid that Irene can be a mite too blunt at times."
"Nothing wrong with honesty, Claire," the older woman said. "Don't worry yourself into a taking. Always better to be blunt, I say, than to be one of those dreadful girls who cannot utter a plain statement. I find nothing wrong in a having a healthy curiosity." She cast a significant glance at Teresa before returning her gaze to Irene. "What were you saying about the kidnapping?"
"Everyone has heard about it, of course, but I have never really known the details. Perhaps it is simply that I do not know the full story, but it seems to me that there were some curious circumstances."
"Indeed?"
"For one thing, is it not peculiar that the Duke of Rochford, while obviously a very capable man, was able to locate the earl with so little effort, yet no one was able to find him before?"
Pansy's eyes widened, but Odelia simply nodded. "Ah, is Gideon wondering about that? I must say, it does seem that Cecil should have learned more." She shrugged. "I was not here at the time, so I don't know exactly what was done to find Gideon and his mother. I could not come, despite Pansy's pleading with me to, as my youngest girl was having her lying-in right about then."
She glanced around. "Pansy is the only one who could tell you about that time. It was long before you were here, Teresa."
"Actually, Lady Odelia, I was here," Teresa replied unexpectedly. When everyone turned to look at her in surprise, she added, "Not here at Radbourne Park. But my family lives only a few miles away. I remember all the excitement. Naturally I was still rather young—I had not yet made my come-out. I was— Oh, I must have been about fifteen. The abduction was the talk of the countryside for months. But of course, I did not know all the details of it, only the bits and pieces of gossip that I overheard. No one would speak to a young girl about such matters."
"I expect that Cecil mishandled the search," Lady Odelia commented. "He always was one to let his anger blind him to good sense."
"Odelia!" her sister cried out indignantly. "How can you say such a thing? Cecil did everything he could. Why, he sent Owenby all over the countryside looking for some clue to where they had gone. How could anyone be expected to track down the ruffians, with no idea who they were or where they went?"
"How were Lord Radbourne and his mother taken?" Irene asked the old woman gently.
"How?" Pansy looked at her blankly. "What do you mean?"
"Were they stolen from the house? Were they out for a stroll?"
"Oh. I ... um ... I'm not entirely sure. It has been so long." Pansy looked down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. "It was such a dreadful time. Poor Cecil was so overset."
Lady Odelia let out an inelegant snort. "I imagine he was! No doubt he strode about all over the place, shouting and slamming things and getting nothing useful accomplished."
"Odelia!"
"I am sure he was most upset," Francesca told Pansy soothingly.
Irene added, "Then you do not remember if Lady Radbourne and her son were in the house or were taken outside?"
"Outside," Pansy said quickly, nodding her head. "Yes, it must have been outside. No one would have been able to just burst in here and grab them. They were in the garden—yes, that is it. They were in the garden."
"Did no one see them taken?" Irene continued.
"No. They were quite alone. The kidnappers got away clean as a whistle."
"How did you learn what had happened to them?"
"What? Why, Cecil told me."
"But how did he come to know? Did he receive a note?"
"Oh! Oh, yes, he told me that they had sent him a letter, demanding that he hand over the Bankes rubies for his son—and Selena, of course. Beautiful necklace, given to the family by Queen Elizabeth herself. Part of a treasure trove captured from the Spanish queen."
She stopped after that, and finally her sister said impatiently, "Well, go on, Pansy, what happened after that? What did he do with the necklace?"
"Oh, well, he gave it to his man, Owenby. You probably don't remember him. He was Cecil's valet, had been with him from the time Cecil was barely more than a lad. Owenby was someone whom Cecil could trust absolutely."
"So Cecil did not think that this chap took the necklace himself and merely pretended to give it to the kidnappers?" Lady Odelia asked.
"No! No, of course not." Pansy looked shocked. "Owenby would never have done anything to harm Cecil. Never. He— he took the necklace and gave it to them, but they did not return Gideon."
"Or Lady Radbourne," Irene added.
"Yes, of course."
"Do yo
u mean that this valet met the kidnappers face-to-face?" Irene asked, her voice tinged with surprise. "Was he able to recognize them?"
"What? Oh, no, of course not. I believe he left the necklace ... somewhere, and then they were going to let Gideon go, but they did not. Gideon was supposed to be, um, up by that large old oak. The one along the road into town. So Owenby left the necklace for them, then went to the tree, but Gideon was not there. Owenby waited and waited, of course, but the boy never appeared. When Owenby went back to where he had left the necklace, it had been retrieved."
"What did Lord Radbourne do then?" Francesca asked, her interest obviously aroused.
"Why, he sent Owenby to look for them, of course. He looked everywhere. Went to Liverpool and Southampton, all the ports."
"The ports?" Irene asked, surprised. "He thought the kidnappers had taken them out of the country?"
The elder Lady Radbourne stopped, blinking, and color seeped into her cheeks. "Oh, well, I—I'm not sure. I suppose they would not have, would they?" She glanced around, as though seeking answers from the room.
Her sister fixed her with a firm stare. "Pansy, stop being so featherbrained. Where did Cecil send Owenby to look for them?"
"Well, I know the fellow went to London to make inquiries, but no one had seen them," Pansy offered weakly.
"And that is all you can remember about the affair?" Lady Odelia asked.
"It was a long time ago!" Pansy flared up. "And we were all rather overset at the time. I— My memory is perhaps not the best."
"It sounds as though this man Owenby is the person to talk to," Irene remarked. "Is he still alive, Lady Radbourne?"
Pansy turned to Irene with a look almost of horror. "No! I mean, well, yes, he is alive, but he no longer works here. He, um, left our employ after Cecil died."
"Does he live in the village? Gideon—I mean, Lord Radbourne—could go talk to him."
Pansy blinked, then said weakly, "Oh, I am sure that is unnecessary. My grandson needn't speak to the man. It would—it would be too painful, surely."
"Nonsense," her sister told her stoutly. "Why should it be painful? I imagine the boy would like to learn all he can about what happened to him. Better to know, isn't it, than to wonder?"
"Better to know what?"
Everyone turned to look at the doorway, where Gideon stood looking at them. He repeated, "Better to know what? Wonder about what? Is this boy you are discussing me, Aunt Odelia?"
"Yes, of course. Irene brought up the subject of what happened to you all those years ago."
"Did she now?" Gideon's gaze flickered to her.
"Yes," Irene replied, facing him calmly. "I am sorry if you find the matter disturbing. I had some questions ..."
"As you know I do," he told her. "And I do not find the matter disturbing. How like you, of course, to charge the battlements." A smile flickered across his lips. He turned toward his grandmother. "I should have broached the subject earlier with you."
"Pansy was telling us that the man your father sent in search of you is still alive," Lady Odelia told him, taking charge. "He could tell you much more about it, I am sure."
"Your grandmother was just about to tell us where Owenby lives now," Irene added, bringing the conversation back to the question she had asked Pansy just before Gideon came into the room, a question that she noticed the woman had never answered. Gideon's grandmother, she thought, seemed peculiarly reluctant to talk about the whole incident.
Pansy shot her a look that, coming from some other woman, would have been venomous, but which from Pansy came across as more agonized than fierce. "Lady Irene ... it really ..." She swiveled her head toward Gideon but obviously found no comfort there. "I—I'm not sure where the valet went. But really, Gideon, there is little point in your seeing him." Her face turned entreating. "It would be better if you just let this whole matter ... remain in the past."
Gideon looked at her for a long moment. "No, I don't think so. I am sorry if this distresses you, Grandmother, but I would like to talk to this man. Owenby, you said his name was?"
"Please, Gideon ..." Pansy's voice was soft, seemingly on the verge of tears. "What good will this accomplish? Owenby probably does not remember it well. It was so long ago."
"Oh, stop being such a ninny, Pansy," Lady Odelia told her sister bluntly. "As if he wouldn't remember charging all over the country, searching for a gang of kidnappers!"
"Odelia!" Pansy looked from her to Gideon. "Please, can we not talk about something more pleasant?"
Gideon's expression hardened. "Why are you so reluctant to discuss this? Do you not want me to learn the truth? Are you afraid that I will find out how very little my father cared? How little interest he showed in finding me?"
"No!" Pansy cried. "Cecil cared! He was devastated! You must not think that your father was indifferent. He was in such a state—I have never seen a man more overset than he was. She didn't deserve his sorrow!"
Gideon froze. The air was suddenly thick with silence.
"What?" Gideon asked at last. "What do you mean, 'she didn't deserve his sorrow'? Are you talking about my mother?"
"No! I didn't mean—" Pansy cast a panicky look around the room.
"Pansy!" Lady Odelia's voice was sharp and commanding. "Stop dithering. Tell me right now—what did you mean by that?"
Pansy looked as if she might faint, but finally she squared her shoulders. "Forgive me, Cecil," she murmured, throwing a glance upward, then added, in a stronger voice, "But I refuse to let you believe that your father was not concerned about you, Gideon. It was Selene who separated you from your father and your family."
"What?" She was greeted by a chorus of astonished voices.
Pansy raised her chin somewhat defiantly. "You were not kidnapped, Gideon. Your mother ran off with her lover and took you with her."
Chapter Thirteen
For a long moment no one spoke, too shocked to utter anything. Irene cast an anxious glance at Gideon, who had gone pale and was staring at his grandmother.
It was Lady Odelia, not unexpectedly, who spoke first. "Are you mad? Pansy!"
"No. I am not mad," Pansy replied, though her voice had dropped to so low a whisper that it was difficult to make out what she said. "It's the truth."
"No! It cannot be!" Lady Teresa's voice rose in a wail. "She was kidnapped. Everyone knows that. She died years and years ago!"
"Are you saying that Cecil lied to everyone all those years ago?" Lady Odelia pressed her sister. "That you lied?"
Pansy nodded, and suddenly her eyes flooded with tears that began to spill down her face. "Yes. Yes. We lied. To everyone."
She pressed her hand against her mouth, as if in a futile attempt to stop her words.
"No, no," Lady Teresa moaned, shaking her head.
"But why?" Irene asked, unable to keep still. Her heart clenched in her chest as she thought of what Gideon must be feeling now. His whole world had been overturned only a few months ago when the duke had found him. Now it had been thrown into a tumult .all over again. "Why did you pretend that they were kidnapped?"
"Because Cecil could not bear for anyone to know the truth!" Pansy cried. "The scandal ..."
"He did it to cover up a scandal?" Irene asked, appalled.
"Not for himself!" Pansy cried. "For her! He did it for Selene. Even then he loved her. He—he was certain that she would see the folly of her ways and return to him in a few days. He did not want her to have to suffer the sort of gossip that would ensue if everyone knew what she had done."
"More likely his pride would not let him admit that his wife would leave him," Odelia snapped.
"Odelia! How can you say that?" her sister protested. "Cecil's heart was broken. You were always unfair to him."
"And you were always a weak reed," Odelia retorted. "How do you know that she ran away?"
"Why, Cecil told me, of course." Pansy looked at Odelia with amazement. "He would not have withheld such a thing from me. He came to me, waving the letter
Selene had left for him. It was all blotched with tears—as if she were the one whose heart had been broken. She told him that she was sorry, but she loved someone else, and that she was leaving with him that night. She begged him to let her go, not to look for her. Cecil found it in his study the next morning."
"And he just let her go?" Gideon asked. His voice was quiet, his face like stone. "He let her take his son from him?"
"I told you, he was certain she would be back. He was positive that she would regret her actions and return, full of apologies, so he made up the story of the kidnapping, pretended that the letter he had found in her room was a notice from the kidnappers. He had Owenby take the necklace and ride off as if he were fulfilling their demands, but of course the man just brought back the necklace and Cecil hid it away, then pretended that it was gone."
Pansy sighed, then went on, her voice quavering a little. "After a time, when he realized that Selene was not going to return or even contact him again, Cecil fell into a dark despair. He stayed in his room. He lost interest in everything. Why, the estate manager had to come to me to ask about problems that arose, because Gideon would not see him."
Pansy's face reflected the seeming horror of that memory.
"But eventually he must have come to his senses," Lady Odelia told her sister. "I know Cecil did not spend the remainder of his life locked away in his room, grieving."
"No, of course he did not," Pansy agreed. "Finally he returned to himself. He began to take an interest in things again, bit by bit. He did send Owenby out to try to find her and Gideon, but by then the trail had grown terribly cold. He could find no trace of Selene or their son. Cecil was sure that she and her lover must have had a plan laid out before they left. He thought they must have driven straight to a port and sailed out of the country almost immediately. Owenby went to London, even to Liverpool, but he could find no record of their having been there or having boarded a ship, though no doubt they would have been smart enough to use false names. And they could have sailed from anywhere. Cecil sent a man to Europe to look for them, but he had no success, either. In all likelihood they sailed to one of the Colonies. Any place where they would have been impossible to find."
