“Look at his face, Henry.” Arabella’s insides transformed into a knotted ball of anxious revelation. “Look at his clothes!”
Henry’s frown deepened. “He is undernourished, and his garments are threadbare. Would you like me to offer him some food or find some more suitable garments for him? I suppose that would be the rightful thing to do.”
“No, Henry, you are not seeing it!” Arabella grasped his arm. “He is covered in soot—the kind that means he must have been very close to the blaze.”
Henry’s eyes shot wide, realization apparently dawning. “Stay here, my love, and keep a watchful eye on the boy. I will run back to fetch more men so that we might catch the wily fellow.” He jumped up and sprinted away, back up to the house.
Meanwhile, Arabella watched the boy tiptoe toward the lapping shore of the cove, oblivious to the fact that he was not alone. Getting down on his hands and knees, the boy crawled into the water and disappeared under the surface, before popping back up a short distance away. There, he floated on his back for a long while, a look of childish contentment on his face.
I am sorry to say that your day is about to get a great deal less peaceful, young man.
There would only be so many places the boy could run to. She just hoped he would not attempt to swim to freedom, for a stronger wind was whipping up around her and, in turn, frothing the waves into a more violent frenzy of whitecaps.
“Make it easy for yourself, sweet boy,” she whispered, hoping her words would somehow find their way into his mind.
Chapter Thirty
Charging back to the cove with a full complement of the swiftest, youngest men—two footmen, a valet, the stable-hand, the gardener’s son, and a few of the younger boys who worked on the vineyards—Henry looked to Arabella for confirmation that the soot-streaked boy had not already fled the scene.
“He is swimming, so you will have to be cautious in your approach,” she told him as he ran up to her. “If possible, you ought to leave the capture to your willing soldiers. Remember, your hand is still injured.”
In all the excitement, Henry had not thought about the pulsating pain in his burned palm. Either that, or the ointment the physician had slathered across it, forming a sort of poultice, was more potent than Henry thought.
“I will do my best to stand back and let the others do what they can,” Henry replied, taking a moment to brush her cheek with his thumb. In truth, he fully intended to be the one to capture the boy, but he did not want her to know that. Even if, deep down, she probably already knew.
Turning back to his men, who had formed a nervous horseshoe around him, Henry made his instructions clear. The footmen, valet, and the stable-hand would go further down the cliff to a different set of steps, and cut the boy off from the adjoining beach; the rest of the men—boys, in truth—would head down into the cove in a stealthy formation.
It is almost as though I am back upon a battlefield.Although, he had hoped he would never have to truly relive those dire days.
With that, the group split into two, following their respective orders. Henry’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached the top of the cove steps and looked down at the water. Sure enough, the soot-streaked boy, though not soot-streaked anymore, was floating on his back a reasonable distance from the shore. His eyes were closed, meaning he did not see the small cluster of people creeping down toward the cove.
If he swims away, it will be difficult to catch him…Henry narrowed his eyes at the scenery before him, as he and the boys reached the bottom of the steps undetected.
“Boys, block as many of those small caves as you can,” Henry whispered, praying his voice would not carry. The wind had dropped, at least down here, so he reasoned it should not.
The boys nodded and scurried off toward the caves, each of four children slipping silently into one of the caves. It left two tiny openings unguarded, but Henry doubted their target would be able to squeeze through, regardless of his spindly figure.
Once he was satisfied the boys were all well situated, Henry made his way stealthily along the cliff wall, hugging it. At the shelf of rock pools where he had kissed Arabella again, he smiled fondly before snapping out of his pleasant reverie. There would be all the time in the world to enjoy more of her lovely affections once this threat was defeated, for if the one responsible for the fire was punished, he hoped his beloved’s worries would fade.
Reaching the tip of the shelf, Henry lowered himself into the deeper water below. The tide had come up higher, making his descent quieter, as though the sea itself were favoring him. He had to try not to gasp as the cold water enveloped him to the waist.
All avenues must be covered… I will not allow you to get away, Boy.
Henry took a deep breath and sank underneath the water, trailing his left hand along the continued curve of the cliff, as his blurry eyes could not see much. Pulling himself along, fully submerged, his lungs beginning to strain, he found what he had been looking for—a recess in the cliff, where he could take another breath without being seen.
Swimming up to the surface, he sucked in a deep inhale and wiped his eyes as he treaded water. But the boy was not floating anymore. He was treading water, too, and looking right at Henry with a shocked expression upon his face.
“Stay where you are!” Henry shouted. “If you run, it will be worse for you!”
Unfortunately, his demand fell on disobedient ears. The boy immediately turned and tried to dive under the water. A second later, Henry pushed off from the cliff and swam as fast as his tired, singed arms could carry him, planning to chase down the boy before he reached the shore.
Less than two minutes later, the boy erupted from the shallows and started running for the cave where Arabella had first spotted him. Practically on his tail, Henry also lunged from the water and sprinted for the small, skinny figure, just as the gardener’s son appeared in the cave entrance and tried to swipe at him. The sudden apparition startled their target. Clearly panicked now, the boy evaded the grabbing hand of the gardener’s son and veered to the right, racing for the cove steps.
As one, Henry and the four boys pounded up the stone steps after the child, most of the boys clambering on all fours while Henry remained upright.
If that child reaches open ground, we might have lost our opportunity.Henry cursed under his breath, knowing he should have been the one guarding the steps. The notion spurred him on to ascend faster, ignoring the pinch in his chest, the sear in his throat, and the salt-worsened sting of his burns.
Cresting the steps and stumbling onto the plateau of golden sun-bathed grass, Henry pulled to a halt, and the boys behind him followed suit. There had been no need for him to worry about not having anyone guarding the cove steps, for he had a secret weapon in his arsenal—one he had not realized he had until that moment.
