'Did she ask you about registries?' Luke put in before what was clearly an old disagreement could develop.
'No, that she dain't,' Rose said after some thought.
'There must be some in Oxford. She might have gone there,' Luke said, turning to Cook.
She nodded. 'Try them,' she advised. 'If she found a position at one o' them they'll be able ter tell you.'
For the rest of the morning Luke pursued his enquiries, becoming more and more frustrated. Either they denied they had seen a girl answering to Sylvie's name or description, or they refused point blank to reveal any information to a young man who, as one acidulous spinster pointed out, might be seeking out young women for his own nefarious purposes.
'She is my sister!' he said angrily.
'So you say. Can you prove it? You might be asking for any young girl with such a pretence.'
Luke glared at her. 'If all I wanted was dalliance, do you think I'd need to go to these lengths?' he asked scornfully. 'There are plenty of girls offering themselves for a few pence, I need only walk the length of this street to have the choice of half a dozen!'
He stormed out, but his anger soon turned to worry again. This was the last registry he knew of, and where might he search now? If she hadn't been able to find a post with a private family, and refused to give up, where would she look next? Would she dare to try one of the inns, to become a maid at one of them?
Wearily he began to visit them all, but they denied having taken on new girls either as maids in the inn or barmaids in the taprooms. 'Or anything else,' one burly innkeeper said, chortling.
At last Luke knew he had to give up for the day. His grandfather should be home by now, if he'd caught a coach from London, and he was weary after his uncomfortable night and long day. He'd go to the Rectory and there they could discuss what more was to be done.
***
'Where've yer bin?' Gilletty asked, a plaintive note in his voice.
Amos grinned up at the old man, peering over the edge of the hayloft which overlooked one end of the stables. 'Just out,' he replied. 'Someone 'as ter give the poor beasts some exercise.'
'Not since yesterday. Yer weren't 'ere all night.'
'Well, yer shouldn't ask a cove what 'e's doin' when 'e stays out all night, now, should yer?' Amos said teasingly. 'Come an' 'ave a tankard of ale wi' me. The dust's made me throat that parched, I could swallow a whole keg.'
Gilletty grumbled, but made haste to clamber down, and soon they were installed in a crowded tavern. They found two seats at the end of a trestle and Amos, flourishing the coins Luke had insisted he accept, ordered for them both.
He drank deeply, and sat back with a satisfied sigh. Then he chuckled. 'Yer should 'a' seen Luke, proper sight 'e looked, in an old wig an' cloak, not the dandy 'e were yesterday.'
'Young Peters? What's 'e doin' 'ere again?'
'Not 'ere. I went wi' 'im. The 'osses 'ave bin eatin' their 'eads off, give 'em bit of exercise. Went wi' 'im ter Wycombe. Me brother works near there.'
'I remembers. But what's Luke Peters doin' there?'
' 'E were on the way ter find 'is sister, 'e said, in Oxford. Run off, 'e said.'
'Wimmin!' Gilletty snorted. 'Bring yer nowt but trouble an' grief, they do.'
'Well, one on 'em's brought you summat better,' Amos said cheerfully. 'I've 'eard of a coachman's job goin' beggin' in City. They wants yer ter go an' see 'em.'
'In City? Yer means work fer a Cit?'
'Merchant, banker, goldsmith, I don't know which. But wouldn't that be better than skulkin' abaht up 'ere? Yer can't 'ide in 'aylofts fer the rest o' yer natural. An' it's good wages, better than wot the nobs pay.'
Gilletty pulled at his drooping moustache. 'I don't know. They'll want someone younger.'
'Yer won't know unless yer tries.'
'Do they 'ave a groom? Or will they expect me ter look after hosses too? I'm not fit ter be muckin' out stables at my age.'
'They 'ave a groom,' Amos reassured him. 'They know 'oo yer've bin workin' for, an' why yer've gotta leave. They don't 'old it agin yer. Yer've got nuffin ter lose by goin' ter see 'em.'
Gilletty sighed deeply. 'S'pose not. Give us th'address, then. Where'm I ter go?'
***
'The wicked girl! When we find her she'll get such a talking to!' Mrs Dawson said angrily. 'How dare she repay us by such thoughtless ingratitude!'
Luke suppressed a sigh. He pitied Sylvie if she ever had to return here. Their grandparents were not unkind, indeed they'd been welcoming and generous to his sister, but they were showing little understanding of her now. Thank goodness Aunt Caroline had offered to take her in. He wasn't entirely happy about her being in London, even for just a short time, it was too close to Bossard. But if he found himself another post and kept away from Clerkenwell too, she ought to be fairly safe.
'First we have to find her,' he reminded his grandmother sharply, and she gave a loud sniff. Her eyes were suspiciously damp, and Luke realised that her anger was in part a cover for her fear of what might have befallen Sylvie.
'Then do so! Where will you look now?'
Luke turned to his grandfather, who was looking exceedingly weary. To spend two days in stage coaches was uncomfortable at any time, but for a man of his age who led a fairly sedentary life, it must have been hard to bear.
'Have you any ideas where to look?' he asked.
The Reverend Dawson sighed, then nodded. 'Heaven knows I have no wish to reveal this escapade to everyone in the county, but there is one way we can make discreet enquiries without ruining the child's reputation. If any new servants,' he paused and shuddered, 'how distasteful it is to look on my granddaughter as a servant!'
'Never mind that,' Luke said, his tone brusque. 'It's more important that we find her, than we try to maintain secrecy about her disappearance. And it is no shame to be a servant.'
His grandfather sighed. 'Forgive me, Luke. I have too often succumbed to the sin of false pride. Well, what I suggest is that we ask my fellow clergy in the parishes about Oxford. If any of their parishioners has recently employed a new maid they will probably know. Or they can make discreet enquiries and send me a message.'
'Shall I ride round today?'
'I will take the villages this side of Oxford, while you, my boy, can do the ones further off, to the east.'
'You are not fit to have a whole day in the saddle,' his wife protested, and looking at his drawn features Luke agreed.
'I will do them all, and if it takes a day or so longer, so be it. Or you could send your man with a note.'
The old man protested, but in the end agreed to this suggestion. He made a list of the rectors Luke could see, while Mrs Dawson busied herself writing notes to the others, and calling the maid to tell the outdoor man who was both groom and gardener to saddle up the horses.
She accompanied Luke to the front door when he was ready to go.
'I do love the child, Luke,' she said softly. 'I saw how you looked, when I promised to be angry with her. Don't fear for her, I won't make her unhappy if you bring her back here. It would be much safer than London, with that brute known to be there.'
Luke hugged her swiftly. 'Let's find her first,' he said, 'then we can decide what to do.'
She sniffed and blew her nose with determination. 'She's so like your mother was at her age, so pretty and spirited. It aged your grandfather by ten years when we heard what those brutes in France were doing, and knew she'd had to suffer.'
'She didn't have to face the guillotine,' Luke said swiftly, controlling his voice with difficulty. 'Not like my father. And she wasn't forced to watch her husband murdered, as some poor women were. She died weeks before they sacked the chateau. She simply faded away because she couldn't live without my father. They were very happy while they could be.'
'That is my only consolation for allowing her to wed a Frenchman, and leave her own country. Go now, Luke, and God go with you. Bring Sylvie back soon.'
***
Chapter 13
'No, there have been no new servants in the village,' the Rector said. 'Rather the opposite. We have had several dismissed from Redditch Court these past few days.'
'It's a wicked shame,' his wife said angrily. 'The old Earl's not even in his grave, and his son comes down here and sends most of the servants away. He says he won't be spending any time here, so he doesn't need servants.'
This was the sixth call Luke had made, and there was no sign yet of Sylvie. He was interested, however, to hear of events at Redditch Court, after his own brief visit there.
'He'll keep a few there, surely, just to keep the house and the estate in good order,' he said.
'The fewest possible, I fear,' the Rector said. 'He could have allowed his cousins to return. Even they would have been better than permitting to house to deteriorate, as I'm sure it will, if it is never used.'
His wife was shaking her head vigorously. 'You may be charitable, my dear. It's your job to be, after all! But I will not be sorry that Mrs Frederick does not come back. Nothing could be worth having to endure her presence here, and that of her wretched young Willie!'
'My dear,' the Rector began, half laughing. 'What will our visitor think of us?'
'I have some slight acquaintance with the boy,' Luke admitted, recalling the kicks he had not entirely managed to avoid. 'I understood he was a difficult child.'
The Rector's wife snorted inelegantly. 'Difficult? A hell-born babe, more like!'
'My dear, that's rather strong!'
'It's not strong enough! He caused trouble whenever he came near us! If he was not stealing or breaking our own son's possessions, he was fighting or quarrelling. And his mother could see no wrong in him. When we told her about the specimen bottles he'd ruined all she said was our Robert would have to collect some more specimens. I'm still convinced that model pistol which disappeared went with dear Willie to the Court. And she was as bad.'
'You don't know that,' the Rector said, his voice growing sterner. 'It's all gossip.'
His wife wasn't to be silenced. 'Gossip? When I saw, with these two eyes, that woman trying to strangle the cat which scratched her precious son as he tried to steal some ribbon from the village shop! What would a boy like that want with ribbon anyway?'
'What happened?' Luke asked.
'To the cat? It was lying asleep on the counter, and he pulled the ribbon from under it and woke it up. Naturally the cat was startled and lashed out, but it only scratched his hand and didn't even draw more than a speck of blood. But she behaved like a Bedlamite! She grabbed the poor cat and was threatening to wring its neck, and that child was dancing about urging her on with the most blood-curdling yells!'
'I understand the cat escaped?'
She looked a trifle guilty, then laughed. 'Yes, it did. You see, I happened to stumble and caught her arm. She had to let go or she'd have fallen over. The cat bit her before it leapt down. Hard. She let out a most unladylike oath.'
'Well done, Ma'am,' Luke exclaimed, and glanced at the Rector, who belatedly smothered a grin.
'It wasn't amusing when they were here,' he said with a sigh. 'One never knew what they would be up to next. But that doesn't help you find your sister. Leave me your direction and if I hear anything I will be sure to let you or your grandfather know. He's a good man, and though I have only met him a few times I admire him greatly.'
Luke was tempted to go and talk to the remaining servants at Redditch Court, but apart from the risk of meeting the Earl he reminded himself that he still had several more parishes to visit that day, and they would be unable to help with this quest, or his enquiries to do with the Earl's death. He rode on, but long after dark returned to his grandparents' home having had no success.
'Did Meadows discover anything?' he asked as he sat down to a late dinner.
His grandfather shook his head and sighed. 'No, there's no sign of her. Tomorrow we must widen our search, go to more distant parishes. I've been wondering if we ought to employ one of the thief takers from Bow Street?'
'Before we do that,' Luke said slowly, 'why don't you visit the registries in Oxford? They would not tell me, they were suspicious of me, but they could not refuse you so easily. While you do that I will go to more of the parishes further out.'
***
Luke was about to set out on the following day when a man rode into the stable yard.
'Do the Reverend Dawson live 'ere?' he asked. 'If 'e do, I've a letter for 'im.'
Luke nodded, and reached for the letter. 'I'll take it straight to him. Is there an answer? Come into the kitchen, have something to eat and drink.'
The groom took charge of the horse, and the man followed Luke into the kitchen where the cook bade him be seated and tuck into her fresh bread. Luke went straight to his grandfather's study, where he found the Rector in shirt sleeves, trying to concentrate on his sermon for the following Sunday.
'This is Sylvie's writing,' he said briskly. 'What does she say?'
He waited impatiently while the Rector broke the wafer and read the short note. Then the single sheet of paper was passed to him, and he scanned it swiftly.
'Thank God!' he breathed. 'She is safe.'
His grandfather was standing up and reaching for his coat. 'I will go and fetch her home at once. Have the gig prepared for me while I tell your grandmother she can cease worrying.'
'She won't want to come,' Luke warned. 'She says she is very happy with Mrs Bradford, likes the children, and feels useful by earning some money.'
'That is not important. She has been disobedient, she must be punished.'
'We cannot drag her away from her employer without so much as a day's notice,' Luke urged. 'Let us go and talk to her, make sure she is really content, and then decide.'
For the ten miles to Mrs Bradford's house on the outskirts of Burford, Luke rode alongside the gig and argued. The Rector, who had chosen to drive himself, would not countenance Sylvie's remaining in the post she had obtained, nor her going with Luke to London, to stay with his daughter Caroline.
'That example does nothing to reassure me,' he said irritably. 'Caroline was another who always thought she knew best, and what became of that – married to a tradesman!'
It was only when Luke pointed out, just as they were in sight of Burford, that Sylvie would be less likely to come under the notice of Gustave Bossard if she was not with her family that he began to look thoughtful.
Mrs Bradford was a pretty woman in her mid-twenties. She greeted them in a friendly manner, and insisted that the Rector sat down on the most comfortable chair in her parlour and took a glass of Madeira to restore him after the long drive.
'I will order Cook to prepare a meal for us all,' she said cheerfully, and rang the bell to do so. 'Your delightful granddaughter is out with the children in the garden, but she can hand them over to Nanny soon, and come to join us. You cannot conceive what a pleasure it is to have a young and lively girl to take care of my two little rascals, leaving Nanny free to care for the twins. That she comes from a clerical family is an added advantage, for she tells me she knows all the Bible stories and can amuse and instruct the children with them. Religion is so important to us. I was near despair, having seen at least a dozen unsuitable candidates that day in Oxford, when she walked into the Registry. I knew at once she was the ideal person. And she can also teach them a little French, which I didn't hope to get. One day I hope we will be able to travel in France again, when these wretched revolutionaries have been defeated.'
Luke saw that his grandfather was looking thoughtful. Mrs Bradford, still chattering inconsequentially about the weather, and the state of the roads, said she'd fetch Sylvie and leave them alone for a while, and whisked herself out of the room.
When Sylvie, looking more lively and cheerful than she had done since she came to England, entered the room a few minutes later, he spoke before their grandfather had a chance to do so.
'Sylvie, you little wretch! How dared you run away and let us think you'd been kidnapped! We've
been frantic with worry.'
She looked remorseful, and hung her head. 'I had to,' she said slowly, and turned to the Rector. 'Grandpapa, please understand! I hate being a burden on you, and I knew you'd never agree, so I had to do it for myself. I sent word as soon as I was able, as soon as I knew I would like to remain here.'
It took time and patience, but eventually Luke and Sylvie managed to persuade the Rector to permit Sylvie to remain where she was for a few weeks.
'You'll no doubt soon tire of caring for someone else's brats,' he said gruffly. 'I want you to promise you'll send for me the moment you want to leave. Don't stay if you are unhappy just to prove something. There will be no fault levelled at you for failing, if you do fail.'
'I won't! And thank you, Grandpapa!'
They ate together, and Mrs Bradford contrived to charm the Rector so much that on the way home he was full of praise for her good sense, her religious feeling, her immaculate housekeeping, and her sensitivity when she promised to ensure that Sylvie wrote to them regularly, and further promised to give her the use of the gig so that she might visit them on her monthly free day.
Luke said nothing to disturb his grandfather's reflections, but wondered if he would contrive to reconcile Mrs Dawson when they reached home. He would be free to return to London the next day, and his thoughts swung back to the events there. He seemed to have come to the end of possible investigations. What else could he usefully do? Perhaps the constables had solved the crime, in which case he could concentrate on finding another position for himself.
***
Back in London Luke went straight to Clerkenwell to reassure Aunt Caroline of Sylvie's safety.
'And you say she is happy?'
'Yes. They seemed a delightful family, two well-behaved children, and a young mistress who will, I am sure, treat her kindly. Even grandfather approved of Mrs Bradford.'
'A paragon indeed,' Caroline said a trifle dryly. 'Well, I'm pleased you're back. I've accepted an invitation for us all to a small party tomorrow evening.'
Luke looked aghast. 'But I don't know any of your friends, and they won't want me there!'
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