“We shall take care of you, Your Grace. If I must leave you, some other trustworthy person will be at your side.”
“Thank you, my dear. Mrs. Henshaw and Mr. Wilson will see to me. But your concern is noted. Now, what have they done to find Mr. Rudge?”
“Dogs. But now it is raining. The villagers have made a line and are looking through the wood.”
“Has anyone thought to look at the old stable?”
“Stable? What old stable?”
“The one that went with the old gatehouse. It was an inn for a time, but then there was some nonsense about population centers and land rights, and the road was moved about five miles west of its usual position.”
“No, I don’t think anyone has thought to look there. Constable Morris is new to the area, as am I.”
“Do ring for someone,” the Duchess directed. “I shall send a note to Constable Morris. No. On second thought, we cannot trust anyone else. Ring for Mrs. Henshaw to stay with me, and you shall go find Constable Morris. Who would you trust to go with you?”
“Jemmy or Mr. Bruce,” Evelyn promptly replied. “I would rather have Jemmy, if he can be spared.”
“We shall spare anyone you wish, save Mr. Wilson. Mr. McElroy is in a sad way, for this time in addition to his wooden leg being broken, he was hit on the head with a poker.”
“Oh, no!” Evelyn cried out. “How is he?”
“Dr. Alton stopped by to see me, and said that his skull was not cracked. Although I believe he has a large bump on his head, it is thought that he will recover.”
“This is simply dreadful,” Evelyn said. “I begin to see why Mayson wanted to leave as soon as he might be well enough.”
“Do you think he might have stolen away on his own?” the Duchess asked.
Evelyn shook her head. “No, I do not believe so. And, in all events, he was still feverish and more than a little ill. If he had left his bed, he would not have gotten far.”
Mrs. Henshaw appeared at the door. She was impeccably turned out, as always, but her mouth was set in a straight line, and there were tired smudges beneath her eyes. “How can I help you, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Mrs. Swinton is to go find Constable Morris. I want Jemmy to go with her, if he is well enough, and I will need you and the two maids, Betty and Molly Sue to run our errands.”
“I will do it gladly, Your Grace,” Mrs. Henshaw said. “Might I make a suggestion?”
“Indeed, you may, Mrs. Henshaw.”
“Bring Mr. McElroy up to sit with us. Constable Morris left Mr. Smith and Mr. Martin, the men from London, to watch over him. I would feel safer to have them both under my eye, as well as Mr. McElroy. That would free up one of the London men to go with Mrs. Swinton, as well as young Jemmy.”
“An excellent solution,” the Duchess said.
Shortly, Evelyn set out in the company of Mr. Martin and Jemmy. All three were equipped with oilskin coats and hats, as the rain continued at a steady rate. The men wore oiled-leather boots, but the only available pair was so large on Evelyn, that she declared she would be fine with her own carefully polished walking boots.
Jemmy guided them down past the willow, then to the back of a long line of villagers who were walking hand in hand, breaking the chain only to go around a tree or similar obstruction. After a couple of inquiries, they found Constable Morris trying to make notes in his book while using his coat as an inefficient umbrella to protect the paper from the rain.
He knitted his brows as he watched them approach. “What happened?” he asked in alarm.
“Nothing horrible,” Evelyn reassured him. “But her Grace had a suggestion for a place to look. She says there is an old stable beside a burned-out inn building. She says she thinks enough of it should be intact to serve as a shelter.”
“Excellent! I shall commandeer a guide, and go there immediately,” the constable said. “Go back to the house, and tell the Duchess I have received her message.”
“I am going with you,” Evelyn said firmly.
“But…” the constable started to protest.
“I’ll go, too,” Jemmy put in. “I grew up here, and know just exactly where that that old stable is located. When I was a boy, it had held together enough that my friends and I made a fort of it on more than one occasion. It has grown more ramshackle with time, but it might be better shelter than none in this weather.”
Constable Morris looked annoyed, but he was not about to let a knowledgeable guide out of his sight. “Very well. Let us be about it.”
