Lady Osbaldestone’s Plum Puddings: Lady Osbaldestone’s Christmas Chronicles Volume 3

by Stephanie Laurens

  Jamie grinned. “Very likely, and I think we ought to go in that direction, anyway.”

  “Why?” George asked.

  “Remember Mr. Harris said we needed to be thorough in following through each avenue of our search?” When George and Lottie solemnly nodded, Jamie went on, “And just now, he said that doing something you haven’t thought of before might lead to a vital discovery. Well, there are paths we haven’t yet searched along.”

  George’s face lit with comprehension. “The minor path between here and the green—and the continuation that goes from the other side of the green, around the back of the vicarage and the church to the stables of Dutton Grange.”

  “Exactly.” Jamie looked at his siblings. “We need to be thorough, and we have time now. Let’s go and search along there.”

  Lottie and George grinned and chorused, “Yes—let’s!”

  Jamie led the way down the steps and around the house to where the minor path, which they’d just remembered, opened from the rear of the hall’s shrubbery.

  They hadn’t gone far before Lottie observed, “I don’t think many people use this path.”

  It was overgrown in places, and there was even the odd sapling that had started to grow on the path itself. George pointed out, “Most of the Hall staff and others like the Tookses use the main path—the one that leads to the lake. There’s likely not much call for anyone to use this path.”

  “That might be all the more reason for us to search along here,” Jamie observed. “Not many other people would have come this way, but someone might have.”

  “Like one of the men the others haven’t yet spoken to,” Lottie said.

  Jamie and George nodded. Jamie led the way, George at his heels, with Lottie happily bringing up the rear.

  They forged steadily on, carefully scanning the ground to either side for any signs of disturbance. The path wended through lightly wooded terrain, but eventually emerged into the open, where it skirted the meadow behind Mountjoy’s Store.

  Halfway around the curved edge of the meadow, Jamie stopped and stared at the rear of the store. “I wonder if there’s some excavation in the meadow.”

  George halted alongside and scanned the winter-brown expanse. “There doesn’t seem to be any paths through it, and the grasses are growing evenly over the whole field.”

  Lottie’s brow wrinkled. “Wouldn’t someone have needed a reason to dig there—and if someone had, wouldn’t one of the Mr. Mountjoys know?”

  Jamie nodded decisively. “And they would have told us if there’d been any digging there.” He pointed to the dormer windows, edged with gingham curtains, which were clearly the Mountjoys’ personal domain and overlooked the meadow. “They would know if anyone had been digging for any reason.”

  That decided, they walked on.

  Eventually, they reached the village green, paused to exchange a disappointed look, then, chins firming, forged ahead. They crossed the green at an angle, climbing the rise to reach the second of the lesser-used paths. The opening lay just over the crest; on reaching it, they trudged down the path, which cut through denser woodland, some way back from the vicarage.

  At one point, Jamie and George leapt and jumped, peering through the trees to the left of the path.

  “I can’t even see the rear wall of the vicarage garden,” George reported.

  The increasingly thick undergrowth on both sides of the path forced them to slow. They pushed aside low branches and peered around bushes and trunks.

  “The trees are thicker and older around here,” Jamie said.

  George paused, peering through the trees, toward the village. “I can just see the top of the church tower.”

  Jamie and Lottie came to peer up and out, too, then the three continued on.

  They were still in dense woodland, well back behind the church, when Jamie halted, squinting into the area between the path and the church. “What’s that?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but stepped off the path, weaving between low bushes to a spot ten or so feet away.

  George followed. “What is it?”

  Lottie had been searching on the other side of the path. She straightened and looked at her brothers.

  Jamie bent from the waist, peering downward. “It’s a hole—a deep one. I think it might be an old well.”

  George reached his brother and stared down into the yawning blackness. “Could be.” He stubbed the toe of his boot against a low stone. “It hasn’t much of an edging—just a line of stones.”

  Lottie crossed the path and headed for her brothers.

  Both boys dropped to their knees and, leaning forward, reached down to run their fingertips over the hole’s walls. “It’s not even lined,” Jamie said. “Just rock and earth.”

  Lottie reached George’s side, looked, then continued around the hole. “It’s quite big.”

  Frowning, Jamie sat back on his haunches. “But it’s not as if anyone would have been dredging anything out of it.”

  “And,” George said, also easing back, “why would anyone hide anything in a well?”

  Jamie glanced at Lottie, just as she edged closer to the hole and leaned forward to peer down. “Lottie! Be careful!”

  “Oh!” Lottie’s foot slipped on a leaf-covered stone, which shifted—then the ground under her crumbled, and she slid, feet first, into the hole.

  “Lottie!” Both boys scrambled to their feet. White faced, they stared into the hole.

  The sound of splashing reached them.

  “Lottie! Are you all right?” Jamie struggled against the panic that gripped him.

  A second passed, then the beginnings of a wail broke off on a sniffle. A second later, Lottie’s voice floated up from the depths of the hole. “I hurt my ankle.” Another sniffle. “It’s dark and muddy down here.” Another sniff, and on a rising note, she wailed, “I don’t like it!”

  “Wait!” Jamie put all the command he could muster into his voice. “We’ll get you out.”

  George turned a strained face his way. “How?” George glanced around. “We’ll need a rope. And the sides are slippery.”

  Jamie’s thoughts were racing. “I’m fastest—I’ll go and fetch help. You stay here and talk to Lottie.”

  George nodded and didn’t argue.

  “Lottie?” Jamie called. “I’m going for help. George will stay with you.”

  A hiccup came from below, then a wavering “All right.”

  Jamie didn’t wait for more. He pushed back to the path, then halted. “Which way?”

  Dutton Grange was closest, but it was midafternoon—Jamie had no idea if any of the menfolk would be immediately available. And if they weren’t?

  He thought of the vicarage only to jettison the idea. The reverend would try to help, but they would need someone more physically able. Jamie doubted Lottie could climb out of the well on her own.

  By the same reasoning, the manor—which was farther away—wasn’t the best destination. Simms and Crimmins were able-bodied enough, but not nimble. Not the sort to climb down a well.

  “The Hall.” Lips setting, Jamie didn’t waste any more time thinking. He set off at a run, dodging branches as he pelted back the way they’d come. Fulsom Hall wasn’t the closest house, but it was the nearest guaranteed source of the right sort of help.

  And Jamie could run very fast.

  He burst onto the green, streaked down and across the rise, and plunged into the path on the other side. It was as long as the path that led from the north end of the lake to the Hall’s grounds, but the path along the meadow’s edge was more even—better for running flat-out along.

  Mere minutes later, Jamie shot out of the Hall shrubbery and raced to the house. He didn’t pause to knock but, panting, opened the door and charged into the front hall and on toward the library. “Mr. Harris!”

  Callum was deep in a promising description of what he thought was the merchant’s villa that a reference he’d found earlier had alluded to; it took him a second to r
egister that the hail for “Mr. Harris” was meant for him. He looked up as the library door burst open, and Jamie staggered in, a hand pressed to his side.

  “Mr. Harris!” the boy gasped. “You have to come. Lottie’s fallen down an old well.”

  Instantly, Callum pushed to his feet. “Where? Exactly.”

  Jamie was breathing hard, but regaining his composure. “In the woods behind the church. There are two lesser-used paths—we were searching along them.”

  Mountjoy and Henry and the others, who apparently had been heading inside, had heard the commotion and followed Jamie into the library in time to hear his reply.

  Melissa rushed to her cousin. “Jamie—what’s happened?” Mandy was at Melissa’s shoulder.

  Callum saved him from having to answer. “Lottie’s fallen into an old well.” Callum halted before Jamie and held the boy’s gaze. “How deep is she?”

  Jamie blinked. “I don’t know. We can hear her well enough, but we couldn’t see her, and she said it was muddy.” He paused, then added, “It’s very dark down there.”

  Callum nodded and looked at Mountjoy and Henry. “We need ropes and lanterns.” He thought, then added, “And we’ll need two strong, heavy men to act as anchors if needed.”

  Mountjoy glanced at Henry, who, pale, said, “Fetch ropes and lanterns, and tell Billings and James we need them.” To Callum, Henry added, “Billings and James are the strongest and heaviest of our men.”

  Callum scanned the company, then nodded. “We’ll do.”

  He turned to Jamie, saw the anxiety in the boy’s face, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.” Callum looked at Henry. “Can you wait and follow with the ropes, lanterns, and the men as fast as you can?”

  His expression grim, Henry replied, “Of course.”

  Callum released Jamie and waved him to the door. “Lead on.”

  The boy had stamina; Callum found himself running in Jamie’s wake. Dagenham, Kilby, and Wiley, having left Carnaby to follow with Henry, thundered behind, and the two young ladies were on their heels as they all followed Jamie along the narrow, unkempt path.

  They crossed the village green, angling up the rise to race on down an even narrower path that cut through dense woodland.

  A hundred yards farther on, Jamie slowed, then pointed off the path and diverted into the trees.

  Following Jamie, Callum heard George call, “They’re here, Lottie!” An instant later, George added, “Mr. Harris and the others have come to get you out.”

  As Callum fetched up before the mouth of the old well, he heard a faint sob. Taking care not to disturb the ring of foundation stones circling the edge—all that was left of any raised sides the well might originally have had—he eased to his knees a foot away, leaned forward, and peered down. Blackness yawned below. “Lottie? Are you hurt?”

  She sniffed, then said, “I think I’ve sprained my ankle. It hurts.”

  “If that’s all that hurts,” he returned in a bracing tone, “then you’re a very lucky girl. I’ll be down in a few minutes to help you climb out—we’re just waiting for the others to bring ropes and lanterns.” He glanced toward the path, but the rest of the crew were just arriving; there was no sign of Henry and the ropes and lanterns yet. He turned back to the hole. “Is it wet down there?”

  “It’s muddy and slimy, where I am.” A pause, then Lottie said, “There’s water on the other side of the hole. I fell into a bit of it, but I scrambled out.”

  “All right—stay where you are. Better on the mud than in the water.” Especially if the water was deep. Callum glanced over his shoulder as the others, who had fallen behind on the last stretch but had finally reached them, drew near. He held out a hand, signaling them to stay back. “The edges are crumbling—that’s why Lottie fell in.” He grimaced and surveyed the site. “It’s dangerous leaving a well like this, without a properly constructed lid.” The thought gave him pause, then he leaned forward and called, “Lottie—are there any broken timbers around you?”

  After a second, she called up, “It’s so dark, I can’t really see, but there is some wood here—broken bits.”

  Callum grimaced. In a quiet voice, one he hoped Lottie wouldn’t hear, he murmured, “It sounds as if there was a lid on this, but it broke. There might be a dead animal down there with her.”

  Melissa and Mandy met his eyes. After a second, Mandy whispered, “Let’s hope she doesn’t find any bones.”

  Callum fervently hoped so; he didn’t fancy having to climb out with a hysterical little girl.

  Heavy footsteps heralded the approach of the men with the ropes and lanterns. Callum thought to ask, “Lottie, we can’t see you because you’re in the dark. But can you see us?”

  When she didn’t reply, he rephrased, “If you look up, what can you see?”

  “I’m looking,” Lottie said, “but all I can see is black, with a little bit of light to one side.”

  Callum grimaced. He looked at the recent arrivals—at Henry and the two heavy men he’d brought with him, both of whom carried long, thick ropes wound over their shoulders. Callum reached for the ropes. “The well—if it is a well—isn’t a clear straight shaft. We need a lantern.”

  Henry and Roger each carried a shuttered lantern; Roger was closest and offered his.

  Callum rose and took it, swiftly tied the end of one of the ropes to the handle, then paused. After a second of thinking, he waved Melissa and Mandy to a position several feet back from the lip of the well, to his left. “Take this rope.” He passed over the coiled length now attached to the lantern. “Dagenham?” When the viscount, who was long and lean, stepped to Melissa’s side, Callum waved at him to take hold of the rope and step to the hole’s edge.

  He did, instinctively taking up the slack between him and where the rope was attached to the lantern in Callum’s hands.

  Callum nodded. “Good. I’m going to release the lantern over the well.” To Dagenham, he said, “I want you to try to keep it from swinging too much, then when it steadies, play out the rope and lower it gradually—foot by foot.” To the two girls, he said, “I want you to feed the rope to Dagenham, but slowly and evenly. If he loses his grip, I don’t want the lantern falling like a stone.”

  The girls nodded. Callum looked at Dagenham. “Ready?”

  Dagenham nodded, and Callum unshuttered the lantern, then leaned forward as far as he dared and released it. It swung wildly, but Dagenham reached out as far as he could, keeping the lantern away from the rocky walls. Pendulum-like, it steadied; once it was hanging straight down, Dagenham glanced at Callum, a question in his eyes, and Callum nodded. “Lower it.”

  Everyone craned their necks and watched as the lantern descended, illuminating crumbling rocky walls. Twenty feet down, and Dagenham murmured to the girls to give him more rope. After a pause, the lantern descended farther, and those close enough to the edge saw why Lottie couldn’t see them. A huge whorl of tree roots had grown through the wall and, subsequently, had trapped earth and leaves. Over the years, the mass had grown, blocking more than half the shaft.

  By chance, they’d sent the lantern down almost opposite the clump; it continued past and dipped still farther.

  “I can see the lantern!” Lottie shouted.

  “Good,” Callum replied. “Don’t try to touch it.” He held up a hand to Dagenham. “Stop.”

  Dagenham did; the lantern was now about two feet below the blockage, but the intrusion prevented them from seeing what lay below.

  “Lottie,” Callum called, “how much higher than you is the lantern? Don’t touch it, but if you wanted to, could you reach a finger to it?”

  After a moment came, “Nearly. Jamie could reach it, if he was here.”

  Callum released the breath he’d been holding; he suspected the rooty mass had broken Lottie’s fall, and she’d tumbled off it and fallen farther—but how much farther had been the question in his mind. If she was less than ten feet below the mass, the ropes would reach. “Good enough,” he
called. “I’ll be down in a few minutes to fetch you.”

  “You’re going down?” Jamie asked.

  Callum nodded. He shrugged out of his greatcoat, tossed it aside, and reached for another rope. “I’ve done this sort of climbing before.”

  Quickly, he instructed the two older men—Billings and James—in how to manage his weight as he descended the shaft. Then Callum turned to Jamie and George, backed by Henry, Kilburn, Carnaby, and Wiley. “I’m going to take a second rope with me and tie it around Lottie. I’m hoping there’s space enough to bring her up alongside me. We’ll see. But the most important thing about pulling her up is not to jerk or pull too quickly. Just slow, steady, hand over hand—and listen for my orders. I’m going to try to teach her to walk up the wall as you pull—that way, there’s less chance she’ll bang into rocks and get hurt.”

  They nodded their understanding, and Callum arranged for Kilburn, the heaviest, to act as anchorman, with the others all assisting; given Lottie’s slight weight, only one was actually needed to play out the rope, but “helping” meant they all felt they were contributing.

  Callum glanced back down the hole, then waved at Dagenham and the two girls. “Slowly, without jerking the lantern, shift around to your left. I don’t want to foul the lantern rope as I go down.”

  Under his direction, the trio edged around until the rope holding the lantern passed down one side of the intruding rooty mass.

  Callum finished knotting his rope over his suit coat and around his waist and hips in a workmanlike harness, then he picked up the end of the rope for Lottie and tucked it into his pocket. Grasping his rope, he balanced his weight on the balls of his feet and backed toward the edge of the well. “I’m going to start down now, Lottie. Keep against the side and don’t be surprised if you hear rocks falling. If any do, look down and shrink back against the side of the well. All right?”

  After a second, she called back, “I’ll try.”

  Callum looked at Billings and James, anchoring Callum via his rope, which was slung around the solid bole of a tree. “Ready?”

  When they nodded, Callum leaned back, letting the rope, tree, and men support his weight as he tipped nearly horizontal, then he stepped back, over the well’s lip, pressing the soles of his boots flat against the well’s rocky, uneven wall.