Raf stumbled back, into Agetha’s skirts, and she gripped his shoulder. Her fingers hurt, but even in his own fear he understood that it was because she was frightened, too. And then Jean-Paul came to take him and he could think no more.
Chapter 21
Jenova listened as her steward took her through an inventory of Gunlinghorn Castle. It was almost time for the evening meal, the day was waning, and they were seated in a small alcove off the great hall. They had been dealing with the important matter of what food stores they already had, and what would be needed for the year ahead. Jenova’s head was swimming with figures, from the number of dried apples still edible, to the amount of sour wine still to be drunk.
“Of course Lent is almost upon us,” she said with a thoughtful frown. Lent meant fasting, and as this was the time of year—late winter shifting into spring—when food stocks were running short and the new season’s crops were yet to be edible, a lack of sustenance could conveniently be turned into piety.
“Most of the fields are plowed,” the steward went on, naming them, ticking each meadow off on his fingers. “And the tree and vine pruning is complete.”
“All is in readiness then,” Jenova agreed. “I think we will reach the Easter feasting comfortably, if we are careful.”
Her steward smiled. “Aye, my lady, roasted beef and good French wine! I can hardly wait for Easter!”
Jenova smiled back, but inside her feelings were very different. If Henry was not there, then what did she have to look forward to? Her life would be incomplete because there would be something vital missing.
“My lady?”
It was Gertrude, one of her young ladies, her eyes wide and her hands twisting in her skirts.
“My lady, ’tis Master Raf. I went to his room so that we could go and see the kittens together. But he wasn’t there and though I looked, I-I can’t find him.”
Gertrude could be naughty, but she was a good girl at heart, and Jenova knew she would not think a prank such as this funny. Besides, there was nothing in her round face but anxiety. Jenova felt a curious hollowness developing in the pit of her stomach. “He went out riding with Lord Henry,” she said, trying to calm herself as well as the girl.
“Aye, he came back from that, my lady, but now he’s nowhere to be found. ’Tis not like him, my lady, not when he promised to show me Raven’s kittens.”
“He must be hiding, or…or with Lady Agetha?”
The girl shook her head. “Lady Agetha says she hasn’t seen him, my lady. I’ve sent the cook’s boy to all the places he knows Master Raf likes, and I’ve called and called….”
The hollowness inside Jenova deepened. Where was he? Had Henry told him he was leaving, and Raf was so upset that he had found some secret place to be sad in? It did not make sense. If Raf was upset, he would come to her. He was not the sort of boy who would run off and hide.
“Where is Lord Henry, Gertrude?”
“In the stables, Lady Jenova.”
“Fetch him to—No, no, I will go myself!”
She hurried through the great hall, hardly noticing the startled looks she was receiving. Where was Raf? It must be a mistake. Something completely innocent. And yet, considering the turmoil in other areas of her life, she could not quite believe it.
Outside the last rays of the sun were shining weakly, and there was a promise of warmth in the air that had not been there only days before. Spring was coming, and Jenova did not even notice it. She fairly flew across the yard and into the stables. Grooms were forking hay and dung. Farther down the aisle, Reynard was standing, leaning against one of the stalls, speaking to someone on the other side.
As Jenova drew closer she heard him say, “She didn’t come. I thought to stay and wait, but it will be dark soon and I know she won’t set out so late. I am fearful for her, my lord.”
Henry’s voice, muffled, from inside the stall, answered. “If I were the devil’s advocate, Reynard, I would say she has taken you for a fool. That she has pretended to be what she is not. Are you certain that is not the case?”
Reynard ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Nay, she is not like that! There is something amiss. I can feel it inside.”
Henry stood up just as Jenova reached them. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he came forward to open the stall door, setting aside the poultice he had been using on Raf’s pony and wiping his hands on a rag.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Jenova felt suddenly breathless. She put a hand to her chest, struggling to find her voice. “Raf,” she gasped. “We cannot find Raf.”
Henry put his hand firmly on her shoulder, and the warmth, or just the contact, did bring a stillness to her.
“Be calm, Jenova,” he said quietly. “Raf is here somewhere.” Then with a frown, he turned to Reynard, who shook his head in bewilderment. “I was seeking him myself, earlier,” Henry admitted. “He said he would like to help me with his pony—the old chap has a bruised foreleg. He seemed keen at the time, but when I couldn’t find him I thought he must have found something else to do.”
“You are his hero, Henry!” Jenova cried. “If you wanted him to help you, he would never let you down. Don’t you know that?”