Lady Bess

Bess regarded her with some concern. “Oh, I am sorry. The earl went off with”—Bess inclined her head towards Donna—“Lady Mabry’s husband and some friends … he is not at home.” She saw the woman’s distress and frowned. “Is there something we can help you with, Mrs. Russell?”

“Other than to relay a message to the earl for me, I am certain there is nothing you can do,” Mrs. Russell said as she turned to her cousin. “Isn’t that right, Bernard?”

“Precisely so, cousin,” Mr. Holland said quietly.

“Our uncle, the squire, has asked us to tell as many people as we can, as perhaps someone has seen something that can help.”

“I am not certain this is a wise course, but we must do as he asks,” Bernard Holland said with a sour face. “I really think all this will do is create fodder for the gossipmongers.”

“Gossip?” Bess said. “Please, Mrs. Russell, you have naught to fear in that regard by asking either Lady Mabry or myself for assistance.”

“Oh, I know, such good girls …” She turned to Holland and said, “Shall I tell them then?”

“Indeed, cousin, you might as well, though I don’t know what more than gossip will be accomplished,” he answered, and Bess thought he looked more than a little irritated.

“Well,” Mrs. Russell returned, looking sternly at him, “these girls will not gossip, and perhaps in the end we may find some help.” She turned to Bess and then Donna, gave them a considering look, and then wailed, “My uncle’s little ward has vanished!”

~ Thirteen ~

“YOUR UNCLE’S WARD?” Bess asked, feeling puzzled and a bit shocked. “I don’t think I understand.”

“No, of course not,” Holland almost snapped as he adjusted his intricate and heavily embroidered yellow cravat. “How could you?” He turned impatiently to his cousin. “Really, Mary, need we be so melodramatic?”

She ignored him and proceeded as though he had not spoken. “My uncle’s ward, Thomas, is only ten years old. His circumstances are, well, unusual.”

“Our uncle found him with his peasant mother, who had applied to our uncle for help. She was expiring in a hovel, and the boy was only seven or eight at the time,” Bernard added with a heavy sigh.

“So sad,” Mrs. Russell said. “You see, well, it is so very delicate, but apparently they had been … friends, this woman and my uncle. He had no idea that her circumstances had deteriorated, or that … she had a child.” She drew in a long breath of air, sighed, and then continued, “At any rate, my uncle has grown very fond of Thomas—”

“I am certain they don’t need all these details,” Bernard Holland actually did snap this time, and quite harshly.

Mrs. Russell put up her chin. “The thing is, I think perhaps he is being held by villains for ransom.”

“I must add to this that Thomas is a wayward boy, more than a little wild. You see, he knows that he is my uncle’s … well … there is no other way to put this, but he is my uncle’s bastard son, and though the rumor is that Uncle changed his will, he still has not publicly acknowledged or adopted the boy.” Holland shrugged. “I have witnessed the little demon’s behavior, and it is my considered opinion that he has run off.”

“Absurd man,” scoffed Mrs. Russell. “He has a governess, and she said they were at the fair. One minute he was enjoying petting the baby goats, and the next minute he was gone.” She sighed heavily. “There can be no doubt that it was an abduction for ransom. Our uncle has been waiting for the ransom request, but none yet has arrived.”

“Precisely so, which leads me to believe that my conjecture that the boy has run off is the correct one. He will return when he finds himself cold and hungry,” Holland said with a sneer. “Mary, you like to think the best of everyone.”

Bess thought about this with great misgiving and said quietly, “I agree with Mrs. Russell. I think the child has been abducted.”

“Mary, please, do call me Mary,” Mrs. Russell interjected.

“What I don’t understand,” stuck in Donna, “is the timing in all of this. Have you only just discovered he is missing? You gave no hint of this last evening.”

“Indeed, apparently my uncle wished to keep the news to himself until this morning, when he sent word of his problem. You see, the boy was supposed to be coming to Mary’s for a spring visit. He had no choice but to advise her of Tom’s disappearance.”

Bess took it all in, especially Bernard’s attitude. He didn’t seem concerned. Even if the boy had taken a pet and run off, one would still be concerned. After all, he was just ten years old. She hesitated and then said, “Mary I don’t wish to worry you further. I do feel, though, whether the boy ran off on his own or not, he is a babe all alone. We must do something—notify the authorities, something.”

“This is absurd,” Bernard uttered with exasperation. “What can we do? Send the beadles after the child? Think of the scandal. The next thing they will say is that my uncle was abusing the boy. Outrageous.”

“No, but we can make a concerted effort to look for him. We enlist friends and fan out and make discreet inquiries. One doesn’t know how much people see and dismiss until they are asked,” Bess said gravely. And then a thought occurred to her. “May I ask, Mary, was your uncle actually going to adopt this boy? Would that have made the boy his heir?”

“That seems a far-fetched implication and very direct from a young lady,” Bernard said in a low voice. He looked angry, very angry.

> Bess made light of it. “My besetting sin—I am always too direct.” She met his narrowed eyes with a look that was cool.

Mary shook her head and waved this off. “As to that, I am not sure. No one really knows what my uncle meant to do in regard to the boy. You see, my uncle’s estate is not entailed. He can leave it where he chooses.”