“No,” Rowan admitted. “But I know he disappeared while we were exploring. He left lessons to use the necessary this morning. And he was missing again just now. There isn’t any other explanation. If you go look in the Treasury Hall, you may find that the sword has been returned.” He looked earnest, even apologetic, but Lizbet, try as she might, could not find it in her heart to trust him.
She looked at Ramsey. He looked back. But this time, his expression was not so pinched. If Lizbet hadn’t thought it impossible, she might have said he was about to smile.
“Captain, has the Hall been checked?”
“Sent a man a few minutes ago. We’ll know soon enough.”
“I’m sorry, Ramsey,” Rowan spoke up sadly. “Father needs the sword and I had to tell them sometime. I know you didn’t mean to cause trouble, but the joke has gone far enough.”
“It does look like the most logical explanation,” Brawley said, clearly unhappy with the prospect of punishing the younger prince. “I confirmed with Ellison that Ramsey was the only one who stepped out of lessons. He was the only one with access and opportunity.”
Lizbet rubbed her forehead and tried desperately to think of a way out, but there wasn’t one. Not that she could see. “Very well. If the sword has been returned, we will put it about as a simple prank and let it go with a reprimand. Ramsey, I find that I am very disappointed. We will discuss this further.”
The door to the receiving room opened to admit a flushed young guardsman. He was breathing hard, apparently having run all the way from the Treasury Hall.
“Captain, I checked the Hall. Every corner, as you asked. The sword isn’t there.”
When Lizbet rolled over in bed the next morning, she didn’t feel as though she’d slept at all. She’d tossed and turned much of the night, wondering how long she could justify confining the boys to their rooms, how they were going to convince Ramsey to talk, and how they were going to keep King Hollin from discovering that the sword was still lost. He loved his sons, but, too often, he only descended into their lives when they needed a disciplinarian, not when they needed a father to guide them. Lizbet wanted more than anything to prevent him from questioning the boys himself.
And then there was the matter with Caspar. She needed to find him and explain. Unless she had vastly overestimated Miss Quidsleigh’s talents, it would be all over Evenleigh by luncheon that she and Count Norelle were on the brink of marriage. Heavens forfend the news came to King Hollin’s ears before they had a plan to dispel the rumors.
What’s more, the sword was still to be found, and there was a delegation from Thalassa due to arrive in a few days. There would be diplomatic ceremonies and the sword’s presence would be required.
It was going to be a busy morning.
Before she allowed her maid to dress her, Lizbet dispatched the girl with a message, requesting that Caspar meet her in the library directly after breakfast, should he be so inclined. The library, she reflected, was the one place she could be quite certain the court gossips were unlikely to discover them.
About an hour later, she stood, feeling uncharacteristically nervous, behind the shelf of novels in the Evenburg library. Would he come? Would he accept her explanation? Or was he angry with her for the deception? Perhaps he was busy preparing for the arrival of the Thalassan delegation and had not even received her message.
She was so busy worrying that she didn’t even hear the door open.
“How can I help you today, Miss Vanholm?”
She jumped and whirled to see Caspar leaning against the end of the shelf, his eyes smiling in greeting.
“I think you may have stopped my heart, Count Norelle,” she admonished him, one hand pressed to her chest. “But thank you for coming.”
“How are Their Highnesses this morning?” he asked.
“Much the same,” she admitted, frowning as she recalled how much she had shared the night before. “But that is not why I asked to see you.” She took a deep breath. “I had hoped to apologize for last night. I simply could not think of any other way to set things right, not in the moment, and I wanted to assure you that we can find a way out of this situation.”
“To what situation do you refer?” Caspar asked. He sounded innocent, but Lizbet could have sworn his eyes bore a hint of mischief.
“The one where most of Evenleigh probably believes we are practically engaged!”
“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “There was really nothing else to be done, and I can do little but credit you with quick thinking. I am sorry, though, that you must endure a rumor that is no doubt extremely distressing. I know you had no desire to be publicly linked to my name.”
“That is not the problem!” she insisted, a little heatedly. “There is nothing the matter with your name.”
He looked at her pointedly.
“Or your person,” she hastened to add. “Your character is irreproachable, you have been nothing but kind, and I somehow feel that I can trust you on very short acquaintance.”
“But?”
“But neither of us had any intention of embroiling ourselves in this mess and I wanted to assure you that I will do my very best to disentangle us as soon as this business with that ridiculous sword is concluded.”
“Ah.” Caspar did not seem very concerned. “I take it the sword has not yet been found?”
“No.” Lizbet decided to allow the change of subject. If he was not inclined to take offense, she would be a fool to insist. “Rowan says he believes Ramsey took it, and I must say, the evidence is not in Ramsey’s favor. He was unaccounted for on multiple occasions yesterday and I am quite certain both boys know about at least some of the secret passages.”
“Have they told you so?”
“No,” Lizbet admitted, “but I found them without any help, and when the boys were ‘exploring’ with their friends yesterday, the guard assigned to them asserted that they never went anywhere near them. The only way they avoided them so completely is if they already knew exactly where the entrances are and wanted to keep the information to themselves.”
Caspar laughed. “Astutely noted. Does Ramsey not admit to taking it?”
“He doesn’t say anything. At first he said he didn’t have it, but he won’t even deny it now. Just sits there, pale and closed off, and won’t answer my questions.”
“And the sword must be found quickly?” Caspar asked.
“If it isn’t found by the time the Thalassans arrive, there is sure to be a scene, and I wanted to prevent…”
“His Majesty from being the one to hand down punishment,” Caspar guessed.
Lizbet looked up at him, perplexed. Why was he involving himself? And how did he seem to know her concerns without her explaining them?
He returned her gaze, brown eyes steady and serious, and for once, Lizbet forced herself to look past his age. For probably the first time, she simply saw him as a man and she found, to her surprise, that she liked what she saw. He was trim of build and neatly dressed, though not flashy, and the gray at his temples did not so much age him as lend him dignity. His face was not classically handsome, perhaps, but it had strength of character, and his smile was as warm as his eyes.
Shaking off that unproductive train of thought, Lizbet forced her mind back to the problem at hand. The boys. The sword.
“Tell me—if you would not consider it a betrayal—” Caspar suddenly asked, “which of the boys is generally the more honest?”
“I’d wager you can answer that as well as I can,” Lizbet answered. “I’ve no proof where Rowan is concerned, of course, but Ramsey is almost painfully honest. And I’d have bet my life he would never do something like this.”
“Then can you recall,” Caspar continued, “exactly what it was Ramsey said? Did he say he didn’t take the sword, or that he didn’t have it?”
Lizbet thought back to the day before. When she first confronted the boys. What had his words been?
“He said he didn’t have it. That it wasn’t his and th
at he doesn’t steal.” Lizbet’s eyes locked with Caspar’s. “He’s never actually denied taking it.”
“No,” Caspar continued, “and if he is as honest as you say, he is not a thief. If he took it without stealing it, then perhaps the question to ask is, whom does the sword belong to?”
Lizbet’s breath caught.
“Let’s ask him!” she said.
When Lizbet and Caspar entered the princes’ suite, Lizbet checked to ensure they were alone before the two of them went into Ramsey’s room and closed the door behind them. The prince was sitting on his bed and eyed the two of them nervously, but didn’t say anything.
“Ramsey,” Lizbet began, “this is Count Norelle. He’s a friend, and we want to help, but we need you to talk to us.”
Ramsey looked down at his knees, where his fingers were clutched so tightly the knuckles had turned white.
“We know you took the sword, Ramsey,” she said gently. “However, you told me you didn’t steal it and I trust you. I believe you did whatever you did for a reason, but I need you to tell me what that is. It’s important that we find the sword before the Thalassan delegation arrives.”
The prince looked up, his expression far too grave for a twelve-year-old boy. There was a struggle going on behind his eyes, until he seemed to come to a decision and opened his mouth.
“Sometimes Rowan doesn’t know how people see him,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard. “He doesn’t understand how they look up to him. How they want to do things to make him like them.”
Lizbet held her breath.
“I heard them talking,” Ramsey went on, in his quiet, serious voice. “Del and Wyn wanted to take the sword and use it to fight a duel. Rowan was laughing at them and didn’t tell them they shouldn’t. I think he didn’t want to look bad. I knew if they actually took it, he would feel like it was his fault. And if they used it to fight with, it would have been damaged and Father would have known. Rowan would have been in trouble for letting them use it.”
It was a long speech for the quiet younger prince. Lizbet glanced at Caspar, who was watching Ramsey with a strangely focused expression.
“So you wanted to protect your brother?” Caspar said. “From the consequences of his friends’ actions.”
Ramsey nodded. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble.”
“So you’ll take the blame instead?” Lizbet insisted. “Why not just tell us where it is? We’ll put it back and you and I can have a talk later. Your father doesn’t need to know why it disappeared.”
The prince just looked at her miserably. “I can’t,” he said. “If I tell you, the servants might get in trouble for not stopping me. It wasn’t their fault. And if I don’t tell you, no one can get into trouble but me.”
“I understand,” Caspar said, and even Lizbet could hear his compassion. “And I respect your decision. But this is a matter of state, when all is said and done. Are you quite certain you can tell us nothing?”
Ramsey shook his head, and Lizbet could see he was done talking. She motioned to Caspar, and they both left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
“Now what?”
Caspar wished he had an answer. “You know your nephew best, Miss Vanholm. He felt he needed to protect the sword, but he is neither a thief nor a liar nor a snitch. How could he take it, and hide it, and yet truthfully say he did not steal it?”
Lizbet paced around the receiving room, hands on her hips. “The most logical answer would be that he gave the sword to whomever it belongs. But it belongs to Andar. To the king. And we know his father doesn’t have it.”
“Perhaps.” Caspar found himself intrigued by the problem. The boy was intelligent and resourceful, if somewhat misguided. His first instinct had been to protect Rowan from the consequences of his own folly, even though Ramsey had probably known his efforts would go unappreciated. He had chosen to protect not only his brother but the servants at cost to himself. It was a pity, Caspar thought, that Ramsey would never have the chance to rule. He had the makings of an outstanding monarch.
“We’re going to have to look for it, aren’t we?” Lizbet dropped into a chair, muttering under her breath and lowering her head into her hands. After a moment, she glanced up at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean you. Contrary to my words, I don’t actually expect royal councilors to help me turn the castle upside down.”
“Well, now I’m rather disappointed,” Caspar told her, sitting in a chair across from her and looking as sad as he could. “Can you perhaps think of a reason why you absolutely must have the assistance of a man of my dubious references? I would give almost anything to escape an entire day of meetings.”
Lizbet leaned back in her chair and laughed. “Is it so easy then? Simply say you’re previously engaged and fail to show up?”
Caspar shrugged. “In part. They aren’t likely to remove me from the council. And it wasn’t as though I asked for the job in the first place. His Majesty asked for my help and I didn’t feel as though I could say no.”
“Do you dislike it so much?” Lizbet sounded oddly wistful. “Isn’t there any part of your work that makes you feel as though you’ve done something worthwhile at the end of the day?”
“Rarely,” he admitted. “So much of the time we are simply arguing with one another, posturing and pretending as we attempt to gain favor for our various pet projects. I would far rather aid His Majesty from behind closed doors. Give him the advice and support he needs without being forced to dress it up in political necessity. I find the demands of the court exhausting, to own the truth.”
Lizbet was watching him, a curious expression on her face. Her eyes were wide and bright, a few wisps of hair danced across her forehead and a light color stained her cheeks.
She was beautiful, he realized. Whether anyone else would agree with him, Caspar didn’t really care. There was so much expression in her eyes, so much passion for life hidden behind the deliberately bland face she showed the world. She wanted her life to matter, wanted to know that the world had been better for her being in it, and he wished fiercely that he could give her that. Or even help her find it for herself.
Caspar wondered how long it had been since he last felt any optimism that his life could be anything other than a losing battle with political forces beyond his control. Lizbet made him want to remember how it felt. Or even take a chance on a different life than he had ever thought to have.
“What you do matters, you know,” Lizbet said suddenly, startling him back into the moment. She was looking at him with a trace of shyness, as though not certain he would accept her words. “Perhaps it feels as though nothing is accomplished, but your part in it is valuable. Even if you do nothing but stand firm, every day, as a man who cannot be moved or bought by merely political considerations. It matters.”
“Rather like parenting,” Caspar noted wryly.
“Yes,” Lizbet admitted, with a tired smile. “Rather like parenting. Though you are trying to parent the entire kingdom and I have only two troublesome boys.”
“I propose a trade,” Caspar announced, leaning forward in his chair and adjusting his cravat.
“Of what sort?” Lizbet looked suspicious, as only one familiar with children’s wiles was capable of looking.
“You agree to permit me to aid in your search,” he proposed, “and in exchange, I will do my utmost to prevent His Majesty from getting involved.”
“That’s not a trade,” Lizbet retorted. “That’s you doing everything in your power to help me and trying to make it sound like I’m doing you a favor. I thought you said you hated politics!”
Caspar grinned. “I said I didn’t like politics, but I never said I wasn’t any good at it.”
“Well, you’re doing it wrong,” Lizbet muttered. “The whole idea is to get everything you can for yourself, not give everything you have to someone else.”
“Oh?” Caspar asked innocently.
Lizbet looked away and bit her lip, probably in embarrassment. �
��You shouldn’t, you know. Involve yourself. It may not end well, and I’d hate for you to be hurt by whatever comes of this…”
“Kerfuffle?” he asked cheerfully. “I’m already quite inextricably involved I’m afraid. Considering that we’re nearly engaged and all.”
Lizbet scowled. “I promised I would deal with that and I meant it! Just as soon as we find this ridiculous sword.”
“Then I propose we begin looking.” Caspar bit back any further comments on the subject of their supposed romantic entanglement. He doubted that he had much chance of convincing her that ending their fictitious courtship might be the biggest mistake of their lives.
“But where?” Lizbet asked, unaware of the serious tenor of his thoughts. “The Treasury Hall has been searched, and as for the rest of it, how can I possibly decide where to start?”
“What if,” Caspar asked thoughtfully, considering what he knew of the younger prince, “His Majesty does have the sword, he just doesn’t know it?”
Lizbet raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you haven’t seen the sword in question, but I believe it’s difficult to overlook.”
“No.” He looked for another way to say it. “What if it’s hidden somewhere that only the king would be able to find it?”
Lizbet drew in a sudden shocked breath, her eyes lit up with speculation. “Yes! He didn’t give the sword to his father, because that would have taken too long to explain and gotten Rowan into trouble. So he used the passages to hide it until he could move it where no one would think to look.” She jumped to her feet exultantly. “It has to be in the king’s suite!”
Caspar’s eyes widened. “Would he have taken the risk?”
“Yes,” Lizbet nodded with absolute certainty. “And it’s one of the places I know he couldn’t reach using the secret passages alone, which explains why he was afraid the servants might be in trouble. Someone must have seen him coming or going from the king’s suite and thought nothing of it. He’s the king’s son, after all, so they would not have thought to deny him. And if he had the sword concealed somehow, they probably never even guessed what he was doing.”
The Countess and the Frog Page 5