“Indeed, no,” the parson’s expression sobered. “It is the convalescents, Your Grace. Although many of them are recovering well, none of them are ready to return to their homes. Those cottages have sat untended for several days now. They will be cold, some of them have been stripped of supplies, and your castle is full to bursting. How can we house them now that they are getting well?”
“That is a fair question, Parson Jamison, and one I had not thought to ask. We have some rooms closed off that can be opened. Perhaps the innkeeper can take a few. Many of the people who are now at the castle will be going out during the day to get firewood, to care for the livestock and to hunt. Otherwise we will not be able to feed everyone.”
“I had not thought of that, Your Grace. I had always thought of the castle’s stores of being inexhaustible.”
“Sadly, no. And we must have a care not to eat up the seed stock for spring or we shall have difficulty putting in crops should spring ever come. Getting Parkforton through this Fimbrulwinter will challenge us all and we must work together.”
“How soon do you think we can start moving people from the Chapel into rooms in the castle?”
“It should be only a matter of an hour or so. The rooms will need to be opened and warmed lest we have people relapsing.”
“What would happen, Your Grace, if the people now housed in the dining hall were moved into the cooler rooms, and the convalescents be placed in the dining hall?”
“An excellent thought. That would speed the process enormously, and probably relieve the many families that are fast becoming restive at being so jammed in together. I’ll have Evans and Mrs. Blanchard make it so. In that way, we should be able to start moving the convalescents almost at once. Only the worst cases or the most recent will need to be kept here.”
“That is splendid, Your Grace. Would it displease you if I held Twelfth Night services from the castle steps? I fear to jam healthy people into this building until the miasma of illness can be cleansed from it.”
“Not at all, Parson Jamison. In fact, I think it would be a great kindness if you held two services: One out of doors for the able, and one in the dining hall for those who should not yet be exposed to the elements.”
“Your Grace, that is a magnificent idea. In fact, I shall hold three: one for those who are unable to leave the chapel, one on the steps for the able bodies, and one in the dining hall for those convalescing or having young children who should not be exposed to the night air.”
“Splendid. We can have the bonfire in the main courtyard. The great firepit is there. That will keep the people gathered for the outdoor event reasonably warm, I should think.”
“Well thought on, Your Grace. It will hearten the people to see the burning o’ the greens, and the rekindling of the new fires.”
Sebastian soon found himself immersed in the details of shifting people about. Even with the able direction of Evans and Mrs. Blanchard, as well as the assistance of the village women, who were exceptionally glad to be able to divide their broods of offspring into family units, there were many decisions both large and small that only he could make, and questions to be answered.
It was very late in the afternoon before he was able to attend the schoolroom and see how his brothers and Miss Doyle were getting on. When he arrived, he found Martha Louisa in a rare taking.
“Your Grace!” she cried, “I am so glad to see you. Mr. Gardener has been looking for you these three hours past.”
“What has happened?” Sebastian asked. “Has someone relapsed?”
“If only it were that easy. Your Grace, Miss Doyle is gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“She insisted on dressing this morning. After I went to see to the boys and the schoolroom, she put on another dress, and took that beautiful old cloak you found for her, her new eyeshades, and she went out. One of the undercooks saw her leave by the back door, but didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t his place to question what the house folk do.”
“No, he is not at fault. But what did he see?”
“He saw a woman in a leather cloak leave the service door and go into the maze. Shortly before luncheon time it was.”
Sebastian looked at the lengthening shadows outside. “It will start to be dark soon. Miss Doyle likes to walk in the gardens. Perhaps she became lost in the maze. Although it seems strange that she would enter it. She has disliked it ever since she was attacked there.”
“I know,” Martha Louisa said. “Oh, Your Grace, I have the most awful feeling about this. Sarah, as was sent up to help with Miss Doyle, was poking about in her rooms before I sent her away. And that awful constable man was at the schoolroom door again this morning, asking to talk to her. I turned him away, but he didn’t seem like one to take no for an answer.”
“He is most persistent, but I cannot think that his importunities would have had anything to do with this latest venture of Miss Doyle’s. Did she say anything to you this morning?”
“Nothing of significance, Your Grace. She did seem preoccupied, but I thought it was just because she was glad to be up and about. She has been remarkably moody since she began to get better. You don’t think she has brain fever after all?”
“I hope not, Martha Louisa. But I will start the hunt at once. Surely she cannot have gotten far on foot.”
Scarcely pausing to let Evans know what was going on, and to pick up his great coat, hat and gloves, Sebastian set out at once for the maze. To his great astonishment and dismay, when he reached it, he discovered that someone had shoveled all the paths leading to it and inside it, as well as for some distance up the mountain. With no footprints to guide him, he could not tell if Lillian went all the way through the maze, or if she had left it and gone somewhere else.
Sebastian found Mr. Timony, the groundskeeper, busily engaged in readying the great firepit for the Twelfth Night bonfire. When tasked with whether he had caused the maze to be swept clean of snow, Mr. Timony looked extremely puzzled.
“Why, no, Your Grace. Why on earth would I have caused the maze to be swept? We don’t plan to use it, and it would have been just one more jobs for my lads. They’s got ther hands full with movin’ stuff about in the house, and the recoverin’ people up from the chapel.”
“Rest easy, Mr. Timony. You are doing exactly as you should. But I needed to know. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mr. Tim Rowe about?”
“Him and Mr. Ben Rowe went up huntin’ in the north woods to see if they could flush a deer. They’s been girdlin’ the apple trees, they’s that hungry an’ we could use the meat. Good to get it whilst we still got fat pork to go with.”
“I understand. If you see him before I do, be sure to tell him that I’m looking for him and have need of his good hounds.”
“I’ll be sure to do that, Your Grace. An’ if you should happen to see that girl, Sarah, you might tell her that the cook is looking for her. He had neeps an’ taties as need peelin’.
“She is missing?” Sebastian began to get a cold feeling. She was found looking about in Lillian’s things. Could there be a connection?
Chapter 40
Lillian blinked her eyes, squinting against the harsh shadows of the moonlight. “Sarah?”
“Yes, Miss Doyle. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble. I couldn’t figure a way to lure you outside the castle, and now you are out here all on your own. There is a reward out for capturing you. It is larger if you are alive, but dead? You are still worth a bit.”
“How did you get into the castle? Into my room?”
“Oh, that.” Sarah laughed. “Slip in the service entrance, borrow a maid’s uniform out of the laundry room and pretend to be a new hire. Parkforton is a big place, and no one knows all of the help – including the help. A few hints from the housekeeper, and I was all set when the measles outbreak played right into my hands.”
“But why the subterfuge? All you needed to do was expose me to the Duke, and it would be all over for me.”
; “Except that the Duke already knew about you,” said a deep voice.
“You! Shut up,” Honest John snapped.
“Why? Afraid of a little truth? My chief sent me up here to ask Lady Newman a few questions. There was something about Lord Charles’ death that he just did not like.”
“That old windbag,” Billy Bob sneered. “He was ready to have her on the gibbet the day of the crime. What could he possibly have disliked about it?”
“My objection,” said the deep voice, which Lillian now realized came from the man tied to the tree.
“Egg-zactly,” Honest John backed up his partner’s opinion. “Which is why my employer insisted that I put you off the track. I don’t really want to kill you, but you know what I do want? I want the ready promised me so that I can pay off my debts and get out of England. There’s a nice little farm in Australia waiting for me. I just have to get there.”
“Who is your employer?” Lillian asked, dread flooding her heart.
“For me to know and you never to find out,” Honest John said. “Count your lucky stars that you are worth more alive than dead. But that could change. Let’s lock her up, Billy Bob, and see about some dinner. We can throw Mark in there with her. It will make it easier later.”
“Aren’t you going to tie her up?” Billy Bob asked.
“Nah. This old building is made of solid oak and bound in iron. It can withstand bears, wild cats, and wolves with sheep inside. An’ it ain’t set up to open from the inside.”
With that he unceremoniously detached the man from the tree and tossed him into the nearby old sheepfold. Billy Bob pushed Lillian in, then Honest John grabbed Sarah and tossed her in, as well.
“Wait! Wait!” Sarah cried, picking herself up and running toward the door as it closed. “But you promised to take me with you.”
“So I did,” Honest John’s voice was somewhat muffled by the oak panels. “But I didn’t say how far. I don’ need to be burdened down by any dimber mort.”
Sarah beat on the door. “But you promised.” She then slid down the boards to sit on the cold ground, weeping.
Lillian just stared at her. “You really thought that man was going to take you to Australia?”
“Why not? His name is Honest John.”
“Oh, how quickly we learn the value of a name,” the constable said. “Have you never heard of irony?”
“I do not think his name is Iron John,” Lillian said.
“Sadly, no. The bands woven around his heart by his past will never burst. His name is John Michaels. We were both placed in an orphanage when we were infants. He had quick and clever hands, and was taken into service by a man who purported to be a merchant but was really a thief and a pickpocket. What he learned from him, can never be unlearned.”
“Oh, and you are so much better, choir boy Marcus Michaels.”
“My circumstances were better,” said Marcus Michaels. “I was employed by a local parson and his wife to clean the chapel, care for the walks and be general help about the parsonage. In return, they paid me a tiny stipend and taught me to read and write.”
“But not how to treat a woman,” Sarah spat.
“Sarah, Sarah, that is old ground,” the constable said. “You are wed to my brother, not to me, and regardless of how we look, we are not interchangeable parts.”
“You got that right,” Sarah sniffed. “Not interchangeable at all.”
“I don’t suppose one of you ladies could be persuaded to untie me?” Constable Michaels asked.
“I will try,” Lillian said.
“Much good it will do us,” Sarah grumbled. “This old sheep shed is built stout. We are here until someone decides to let us out.”
“I think that will be soon enough,” Constable Michaels said, holding his wrists close together so that Lillian could worry at the knots with her fingernails and teeth. Why did I not think to at least bring a belt knife with me? Oh. Wait. Because I was going to lie down in the snow and die. No need for a knife. But I cannot take others with me, not if I can avoid it.
Lillian began to get a loop of the tough rope loosened. Then she was able to pull the knot apart. As she worked Sarah prowled in front of the door, giving it a kick every now and then.
Just as the constable’s hands were freed, Sarah worked herself up into a frenzy. She beat on the door, screaming, crying and begging. Lucas Michaels pulled a tiny knife from one of his boots, and sawed the remaining ropes apart, just as Sarah turned from the door and flung herself at him. Lillian hastily backed away. Lucas Michaels was barely able to avoid skewering the frantic woman with the blade. As quickly as it had appeared it vanished back into his boot. He caught Sarah’s hands, spun her and pulled them behind her back.
“Quick,” he said. “Get the rope. She’s mad as ten hatters, and no wonder after being married to my brother and the misery he put her through. But for all that, we dare not leave her loose in here with us. We will be dead by morning if we do.”
“That’s right, useless man. You have no courage, none at all.” Sarah twisted and snapped her teeth at him.
“Not a bit when it comes to my brother’s wife,” Michaels said, cheerfully accepting the rope from Lillian. “I learned the hard way not to trust you so you are simply wasting your breath insulting me.”
Michaels deftly avoided the angry woman’s gnashing teeth and managed to bind her using the ropes without causing her injury. He did not quite escape injury himself because she flailed and kicked violently. He received several kicks to the shins, as well as a purpling bruise on one cheek before it was done.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” he said. “Will you be still, or do I need to gag you as well?”
“Do what you like,” Sarah snarled, looking nothing at all like the meek little maid who had tended Lillian. “I’m sure you will anyway.”
“You do have a choice about the gag,” the constable said. “Unlike my brother, I take no pleasure in causing you discomfort. In this air, a gag could be dangerous to you. If you will moderate your comments, I will refrain from administering one.”
Sarah sniffled a little, and apparently decided that she would prefer not to be gagged because she contented herself with glaring meaningfully.
“Can you tell me what is going on?” Lillian asked. “This all seems very strange.”
“I daresay it does, especially to a young woman who until recently was a pampered society wife. However, much of it is ancient history and has little or nothing to do with you. Please, let it suffice to say that I do know whereof I speak when I say that she would have no compunction in killing either or both of us.”
Lillian frowned. “It would not be in her best interests.”
“No, it would not,” Michaels sighed. “But she has often proven that she will react outside her own interests. Until he shoved her in here with us, I would have said that her desires align with those of my brother. Now, I do begin to wonder.”
“You always were a slow coach,” Sarah commented. “Coward, oath breaker, and generally worthless. You turned us in because it got you a promotion, Inspector Michaels.”
“Sarah, that is very short-sighted of you. I turned you in because you were breaking the King’s laws and it was my duty as a constable. John could not be allowed to continue robbing the merchants in Cheapside while being a constable. Your part was understandable, I suppose. You were married to him and you really have no other model of behavior.”
“Says you hoity toity peacekeeper. I know what loyalty is, an’ that’s more’n I can say for you. Can’t even stand for a little bit of play-acting to keep your brother out of gaol.”
“I cannot say that I found trading my own freedom for his particularly enticing, especially since I was and am operating inside the law.”
“And look where it got you,” Sarah said. “Locked in a sheep fold, waiting for who knows what to happen.”
“I still don’t understand,” Lillian said. “What does this all have to do with me? Or with my husband’s de
ath?”
“It has everything and nothing to do with that,” Inspector Michaels said. “But it is not fully my tale to tell.”
“Whose tale is it, then?” Lillian demanded.
“Prinny’s,” Inspector Michaels said. “It was part of an ongoing investigation your husband was conducting.”
“Charles? But he was just an ordinary MP.”
“Member of Parliament, yes. Ordinary, no. He was taking part in several very influential committees, including some investigative ones.”
“Oh,” said Lillian thoughtfully. “How very interesting indeed.”
Chapter 41
The Untold Tale of the Winter Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 21