by Rose Pearson
Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of the maid and Mary wandering back through the gardens towards the house. Jill, the maid, was busy in discussion with Mary, who was holding her hand and tugging her towards the house. However, there appeared to be no sign of John and, as Jenny continued to search the gardens with her gaze, she felt a slow sinking of her spirits.
Surely John could not have returned to the town, to again begin his escapades as he had done before? It had been some time since he had last done such a thing, but ever since the Duke had returned, John had become silent and surly. He did not speak to anyone a great deal, and he kept his thoughts completely to himself. Jenny had been glad that he had not been rude, threatening or entirely unmanageable, but still had fretted over the silence. Now, as she looked out at the gardens again in an attempt to find John, Jenny felt a knot of fear settle within her. Where could the boy be?
Gathering her skirts, Jenny hastened from the room with frantic steps. Most likely, Jill, the maid, presumed that John was somewhere behind her. It might not be some minutes before she realized that the child was not even present! Hurrying down the staircase, she almost ran straight into the Duke himself, who was coming out of the library, a glass in his hand.
“Gracious, Miss Edgington!” The Duke’s voice was filled with annoyance, his hand grasping her arm in an attempt to either steady her or move her further from him. “You must be more careful. I almost tipped this glass of brandy over your head!”
She wrenched her arm from him, her heart in her throat as she began to move away from him. “It is only that I must find John,” she called, not even waiting to explain the matter to him any further, such was her urgency. “Do excuse me, Your Grace.”
Turning away, Jenny continued to hurry towards the front door, more than astonished when the Duke’s footsteps began to draw near. Glancing behind her, she saw that he was following after her, his face expressionless as he hurried to the door.
“Where is my son?” he asked, his voice grating. “Where has he gone?”
Jenny, taken aback by his harsh tone, looked up at him as the door was pulled open for them both by a waiting footman. “The maid was taking the children for a short walk after luncheon but only Mary has arrived home,” she explained, stepping out into the light afternoon air and down the stone steps that led to the gravel-covered driveway and, thereafter, the gardens. “My fear is he has gone back to the town again.”
The Duke grunted something under his breath, his jaw set firm.
“You are aware of what I am speaking of, are you not?” Jenny asked, breathless as she half ran, half walked, towards the direction of the maid and Mary. “You understand what I mean?”
The Duke’s eyes were a cold, hard blue as he looked down at her. “I do not,” he said, stiffly, his frame taut with tension. “What is it that you mean? Why would he have gone to the town?” He frowned hard, looking away from her. “I understand that a boy of his age might wish to go exploring, but I cannot understand why he would go alone.”
Jenny swallowed hard, not wishing to express the truth to the Duke for fear that he might become angry when things were already at a rather difficult juncture. It was yet more evidence, however, that the Duke did not know his children particularly well at all. He certainly showed no eagerness to aid them in the difficult time they had endured since their mother’s passing.
“Miss Edgington.”
The Duke’s voice was filled with ire, although Jenny guessed it to be tinged with concern also. She glanced up at him, before looking back across the gardens to see Jill holding Mary by the hand. Jill was looking all around her with a drawn expression on her pale face.
Apparently, she had also realized that John had gone missing.
“I pray, do not blame the maid for what has occurred,” Jenny begged, as they neared her. “Your son has often slipped away in such a manner, although he has not done so in some time.” She deliberately ensured that there was no inflection in her voice, no tone that might suggest that he was to blame for such a thing, but even without it, she felt the Duke’s steely glare rest on her for a moment. She did not allow it to trouble her, feeling more than enough concern over the whereabouts of John.
“Oh, Miss Edgington!” Jill hurried towards her, holding Mary tightly by the hand. “I can’t find the young master! He was with me only a moment or two ago but now….” Her eyes lifted to see the Duke coming alongside Jenny, and she came to a stumbling stop, one hand going to her mouth as her eyes flared with horror.
“You do not know where he has gone,” Jenny finished for her, trying to drag the maid’s attention back to herself again. “You know that he has often slipped away before, Jill. Do not blame yourself.”
“Where is he?”
The Duke’s voice was steely, his gaze hard. Jenny felt herself fill with frustration as Jill quelled beneath the ire of Lord Carrington. This was precisely what she had asked him not to do, and yet, it seemed, he was determined to make the situation worse.
“I – I do not know, Your Grace,” the maid whispered, her face now a pale shade of grey. “I turned around thinking he was following myself and Miss Mary, but he wasn’t there when I looked back.”
“It is not Jilly’s fault, father,” Mary interjected, using the sweet name she used for the maid. “John ran off. He has done so before.”
The Duke let out a long breath, barely glancing at his daughter. “Is that so?”
“It is, Your Grace,” Jill replied, her head now low. “But all the same, I know I should have kept a better eye on him.”
Jenny felt, rather than saw, the Duke stiffen. She took a step towards Jill in hopes that she might prevent the Duke from speaking any more harshly to her. “We will send someone to the town to look for him, of course. He has gone there before and I am quite certain that he will have gone there again.”
The maid nodded, her gaze darting towards the Duke once more, her eyes filling with tears. Jenny, being quite certain that the maid now feared for her continued employment over such a failing as this, could not help but attempt to assuage his anger and fear.
“Your Grace,” she began, turning around to look up into the Duke’s face, aware that his gaze still rested on Jill. “Might Jill take Miss Mary back to the house? She will need to be taken care of. I will have a horse saddled and ride to the town myself immediately.”
“You shall do no such thing.” The Duke’s eyes now turned to her, waving one hand in Jill’s direction to dismiss her. Jill scampered away at once, but not before Jenny had pressed a reassuring hand on Mary’s shoulder and given her a quick smile. The Duke, Jenny noticed, did not as much as speak nor even look at his daughter as she left.
“The carriage shall be prepared at once and you shall accompany me to the town,” the Duke continued, looking straight at Jenny as though daring her to argue. “If it is the case that my son has run off alone on previous occasions, then I must hope, Miss Edgington, that you will be able to show me his previous whereabouts in the hope that he will have returned there.”
Jenny lifted her chin, feeling a sudden swell of defiance in her chest. “I shall, of course,” she agreed, as the Duke swung about to walk hastily back to the house. “And I shall tell you precisely what he did and why, I believe, he did so.”
The Duke threw a narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder towards her but Jenny remained absolutely determined. If John had gone to the town to steal and to take what did not belong to him, then Jenny was absolutely sincere in her desire to tell the Duke precisely why she believed the boy did so. Hurrying after him, her heart beating quickly in her chest, she swallowed hard and prayed that John would be found without delay – and that the Duke would not be overly harsh with him when he discovered him again.
“Tell me, then, what it is my son has been doing on his previous escapades, Miss Edgington.”
Now in the carriage on the short drive to the town, Jenny looked across at the Duke and saw his cold eyes looking back into hers with a fiercenes
s that quite stole her breath. She suspected that he was deeply troubled but was attempting to hide his concern behind an angry demeanor.
“Your son has stolen items from whomever he wished,” she stated, unequivocally. “He became a pick-pocket, if I may speak plainly.” She settled her hands in her lap and did not so much as glance away from the Duke, not even when his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed low. “He was caught each time he did such a thing and the items were returned to those to whom they belonged. It was all done as quietly as possible, of course.”
“Of course,” the Duke muttered, dryly, finally pulling his eyes from hers and looking out of the window. “We must save the family reputation, even if it is despicable what one is doing.”
Jenny arched an eyebrow. “It is not for the family name that I concerned myself with returning the goods in as discreet a manner as possible, Your Grace,” she replied, calmly. “But rather because I have been concerned with your son and his reasons for doing such a thing.” She waited until the Duke turned his head to look back at her, his gaze a little less intense than before. “It is still a question that troubles me, Your Grace, particularly if he has returned to what he once did.”
“You mean to say, it has been some time since he was last discovered doing such a thing?”
Jenny nodded, her expression firm. “That is precisely what I am saying, Your Grace,” she replied, praying that what she had said would help the Duke understand that the reasons behind John’s delinquent behavior could very well be to do with his lack of interest in his son. Perhaps, she considered, it was a desire to be seen, to be taken notice of, to be important to someone – even if it was done in the wrong way.
The Duke sighed heavily and looked out of the window once more. Nothing more was said for some minutes, leaving Jenny to wonder if anything she had said had captured the Duke’s interest in any way. Her heart grew heavy once more, seeing the struggle on the Duke’s features, the struggle that he tried so very hard to hide from everyone and perhaps, even from himself. What would occur if he chose to, one day, speak of it to someone? Would it ease the pain in his heart? Would he be able to look at his children again without pain? Without his tormented memories reminding him solely of his late wife? It had been a long time now since she had passed from this world, but even so, it seemed as though the Duke was determined to cling to her memory.
“Your Grace?”
She was speaking even before she knew what it was she intended to discover. The Duke turned back to face her, his eyes alight with sadness. “Yes, Miss Edgington?”
Swallowing the ache in her throat and battling against the urge to not say what she now knew she needed to, Jenny looked back at him steadily and squeezed her fingers together tightly in her lap.
“Your Grace, if there should ever be a need for you to speak openly with someone about your own suffering, then I would like you to know that I would be glad to listen.” The words came out in a rush, chasing after each other in their urge to be spoken. Jenny sat back in her seat and saw the Duke frown. She hoped she had not overstepped in some way. All she had wanted to do was to show him that he was not alone in his darkness. That there was a way for him to share his heart with someone willing to accept however much of his burden he wished to share.
The carriage began to slow, having arrived in the town only a few moments earlier. Still, the Duke said nothing. Jenny felt her tension continue to rise steadily within her and she prayed that she would not be rebuked for having offered such a thing.
“We have arrived.”
The Duke’s voice was gruff, his eyes turning away from her as the carriage drew to a stop. It seemed he had nothing to say about what she had offered.
“Let us hope we find him quickly,” Jenny murmured, as the carriage door was pulled open for them.
The Duke nodded, his face set. “Indeed,” he agreed, before exiting the carriage first and leaving her to sit alone for a few moments more.
Chapter Ten
Stephen could barely look at Miss Edgington as they began to walk through the town, looking for his son. She was something of an enigma to him. For to be so sharp-tongued and blunt only to turn around and offer him a listening ear and the chance to share his burden with her was more than a trifle confusing.
And yet, it was not something that he had been gifted by any other living soul on God’s earth. No-one had offered to come alongside him in his grief. No-one else had told him that they would be ready to listen should he wish to share his struggles with them. None of his acquaintances and friends back on the continent and in the army had ever even thought to offer such a thing.
“Your parents.”
The words burst from his mouth before he could hold them back. Miss Edgington turned around, surprised, her eyes wide and her mouth a little ajar.
“I have just recalled that you have recently lost your parents,” he said, feeling heat climb up his spine as he tried to explain himself. “That is what it is, is it not? That is why you stated that you could understand my sadness and my grief.”
Miss Edgington closed her mouth tightly, her eyes narrowing just a little. Did she think him wrong for considering such things at this moment, when he was meant to be seeking out his son?
“Yes, Your Grace,” she murmured, slowly, her gaze still fixed. “That is precisely what I meant. It is also why I wish to offer you a listening ear should you ever require it. It was not, by any means, the same kind of love, but it was love nonetheless.” She swallowed hard, a light sheen of tears coming into her eyes as she looked back at him. “They died together. I lost them both in one moment. That is why I say that I can understand grief. I know the hollowness that comes with feeling such a loss.”
He found himself nodding as though he had every intention of speaking to her about the difficulties that had come his way ever since Martha had been taken from him. “I wanted you to know that I do, in fact, recall what you stated.”
A tiny smile flickered around Miss Edgington’s mouth. “This recollection has come many days later,” she replied, a slight wryness to her tone. “But I am grateful for it. Now,” she gestured to the path ahead. “If we might continue to walk this way, we may find your son in the shadows somewhere.”
Stephen frowned hard, not at all pleased that his son had both disappeared and was now, it seemed, something of a thief upon occasion. He knew full well that Miss Edgington thought the reason for this behavior had something to do with his lack of interest in his son and his inability to reach out to him and join him in his grief, but he could not find a way to even acknowledge that aloud. Walking alongside Miss Edgington, and fully aware that the townsfolk were busy looking at him and whispering behind their hands about his presence here amongst them, he tried to fix his mind on his son and what he would have to either say or do when the time came to bring him home.
John must be made to understand that stealing from others was not something he would tolerate. John would be the next Duke which meant that his behavior had to be exemplary.
Not that you have given him much of an example to follow.
His conscience pricked him and Stephen felt heat flood his cheeks. Yes, he had not been a particularly good example to his son of late. He had to pray that John had been kept from hearing the whispers about him, such as when he had been found in the stables. For him to know just how disrespectable his father could be would surely be yet another burden for John’s small shoulders to bear.
Another stab of guilt brought to mind Miss Edgington’s words. It had been some time since John had last been discovered to be behaving in such a way. Was he doing so now because of Stephen’s inability to so much as speak to his son? He had never once thought to go in pursuit of him, had never once believed himself to be capable of simply spending a few hours in his children’s company, for fear that the memories of Martha would become too great to bear.
“There.”
Miss Edgington grasped his arm hard but did not point, clearly aware of the way th
e townsfolk were watching him.
“Oh, goodness!”
Her exclamation was soft, her eyes widening as they both took in what was occurring just in front of them. A large, burly man had come out of a shop and was looking all about him with narrowed eyes, whilst John hid in a small, dark corner only a few feet away. From where Stephen was standing, it was apparent that John was rather scared, for his eyes were wide and he kept glancing towards the man whilst his hand twisted and turned over something he held. His heart sank deep within him.
“Sir!”
Before he could stop her, Miss Edgington was hurrying towards the large fellow, her eyes fixed upon his and a bright smile on her face. Stephen had no other choice but to follow her, seeing John’s eyes turn towards Miss Edgington with what appeared to be a look of relief.
“Oh, do excuse my haste,” he heard Miss Edgington say, putting herself directly between the man and where John was hiding. “I am in the employ of the Duke and he is eager to return home but I simply must find something particular for the children.”
The burly fellow ran one hand over his balding head, his eyes a little narrowed as he looked at Miss Edgington. Stephen held himself back, not wanting to intervene in whatever it was Miss Edgington had planned.
“As you can see, my master is good enough to linger and wait for me,” Miss Edgington continued, with a small wave in Stephen’s direction. “Tell me, do you own this establishment?” She looked up at the tavern door and saw the name there – and Stephen felt his heart sink to his boots.
