Prelude for a Lord (42 page)

Alethea nodded, her neck stiff. “I will tell Bayard. Thank you.”

“I shall be praying, my dear. I am afraid I must return—I left the girls home alone in order to come to tell you.”

“Yes, of course.”

Mrs. Coon departed, leaving the door open. Alethea heard her footsteps retreating down the corridor.

She studied the map, then grasped a pen and opened the ink stand. Footsteps approached the study. She hoped it was one of Bayard’s friends. She drew an X where the hut was.

A voice like rancid butter spoke from the doorway. “Might I have a word, milady?”

She looked up.

Mr. Golding stood just inside the doorway.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
t first, her mind could not grasp that he was here in her house. It was so bizarre that she could only blink at him. Mr. Golding stepped into the study and shut the door. “And before you think of calling for the servants, your sister will die if I do not deliver you within fifteen minutes.”

She gasped, trying to pull air into her lungs. She gripped the edge of the desk.

He said in a bored voice, “I do hope you will not faint. Your sister’s life is still forfeit.”

She had to regain control of herself. She took in one breath. Then another. “I will come with you.”

“You will come now,” Mr. Golding said in a flat voice. “You will leave no messages for anyone.”

Surely they would be seen by a servant as they left the house. Alethea nodded in acquiescence, but then under cover of gathering her skirts, she reached into her pocket and grasped the reed pipe. She slipped it onto the map with a flick of her hand and walked around the desk toward Mr. Golding.

He had not noticed her movements. “Come, milady.” He grasped her arm and opened the study door.

“How did you get into my house?” she asked.

“It was quite easy while the servants were eating.”

“That was half an hour ago.”

“I had to wait for you to be alone, naturally, so I hid in the coat room. I thought I would have to wait longer.”

She looked about. Where were the servants? They were nearing the side door that opened into the park, and she had not seen anyone.

He smiled. “A few burning rags tossed into the kitchen garden creates a marvelous diversion.”

“How did you accomplish that while in the coat room?”

“There are always local boys to be bought for pranks such as that. They only need a signal from a window to be set in motion. I would quicken my step, if I were you, milady. That fire is also a sign to my associate. If I do not deliver you, your sister dies.”

Her stomach clenched. His cleverness appalled her. “What do you want with me? Don’t you want my violin? The music room is that direction.”

“We know your violin is in the music room for you’ve played it there, but we also know the one on the table is not the true instrument. That being the case, we know the music room is somehow being watched. So, for now, you and I shall simply walk out of your house.”

Dear Lord . . . please help Bayard find us in time.

Bayard knocked on the door to the home outside of Chippenham, burrowing in his greatcoat and hat.

“You picked a fine day to visit,” Ian remarked, also shivering in his outer garments.

“I cannot waste time,” Bayard said. “I wrote to Doctor Meredith weeks ago about Lady Fairmont’s Italian connections, and I received his response only today. If I write again, I may need to wait another month.” In addition to his parish duties, the reverend had become well known for his study of the family branches of the peerage.

The housekeeper let them in out of the biting wind. After giving her their cards, they were ushered into a large library stuffed with books. Bookcases lined the walls, but others stood perpendicular from the walls, forming alcoves and leaving only a space in the centre of the room for a long table reminiscent of the ones he remembered from university.

Doctor Meredith stepped forward to greet them, skirting stacks of books on the floor. “Lord Dommick, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

“I hope you will excuse the intrusion, but the information I require has an urgent nature.”

“That is distressing. I hope I may be of assistance.” Doctor Meredith gestured to the table, half hidden by the books and papers scattered atop it. He cleared a space by sweeping his arm across the surface and shoving his books aside. “My housekeeper will bring tea presently. Pray, be seated.”

“I had written to you about Lady Fairmont’s Italian relations, but I have since discovered that she is related to the Count of Inizinesso.”

“Have you now? I must write that down.” Doctor Meredith rummaged among the papers and discovered a pencil and a piece of foolscap. “How is he related to her?”

“Er . . . her mother’s uncle, I believe. Doctor Meredith, I am now interested in any relations of the Count of Sondrono whom you may know about.”

Doctor Meredith studied the haphazard piles of paper and
decided to stick the foolscap between the pages of a large blue book. “Sondrono, you say? While I have done extensive research into our English noble families, my records of their foreign connections are incomplete.” He went to the far end of the table, rummaging about until he found a stack of papers. He returned and paged through the stack. “Sondrono hails from which region of Italy?”

“North, in the Alps.”

“Ah, that narrows the field.” Doctor Meredith finally found several pages that he removed. “I have only one small reference to Sondrono, I am afraid.”

Bayard saw the short line:

Giovanni Accatino, great-grandson of the Count of Sondrono, and his family to London, 1715.

Bayard’s hopes began to rise. “Have you information on this man’s family in England?”

“Of course.” Doctor Meredith disappeared behind a bookcase and returned with three books. He opened one to a page and pointed to a reference. “According to this, his daughter married Sir John Mande in 1720.”

Doctor Meredith flipped through another book and pointed to a second reference. “Sir John and Lady Mande had one boy, James, born 1721. He married Miss Catherine Beggston, eldest daughter of Baron Venerton, in 1740. They had two daughters, Elizabeth in 1745 and Louisa in 1750. The eldest died unmarried in 1767. The younger married Viscount Grimslow in 1770.”

Cold shocked through Bayard. “Grimslow?”

Doctor Meredith was becoming quite excited, as though embarking upon a treasure hunt. He opened another volume. “Viscount Grimslow has three children: William born in 1775, Grace in 1777, and Charity in 1778.”

A frantic knock at the library door brought the housekeeper
looking aggrieved. “I’m sure I don’t know what the world is coming to, but they insisted upon seeing you at once, sir.”

Bayard and Ian rose as Ord and Mr. Collum appeared in the doorway, both breathing hard and wearing the mud of the road on their coats. Ord said in a rush, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, my lord, but in the village, Mr. Collum here has seen—”

“Kinnier,” Bayard interrupted. “You’ve seen Mr. Kinnier.”

“Kinnier is related to Count Sondrono.” Bayard turned to Ian. “I should have trusted your instincts. You have never liked him.”

“But when he appeared in Bath, I had no idea he was connected to the violin.”

“Ord, you were following Mr. Collum?” Bayard said.

“Although I am a stranger to you, I demand to know why you suspected me,” Mr. Collum said in a tight voice.

“I visited Mrs. Boane, and there was some discrepancy in your employment . . . What is so amusing?”

Mr. Collum made a valiant effort to wipe the smile from his face and failed. “Mrs. Boane is my aunt. She wrote a reference for me for my first employer in Bath. I assume you spoke to Mr. Keable? He was my father’s butler before he went to work for my aunt.”

Bayard felt foolish.

“You did not speak to your wife about me?” Mr. Collum asked.

“I did not wish to upset her by confessing I suspected her sister’s betrothed.”

“I suppose I could understand that,” Mr. Collum admitted.

Ord said, “I was watching Mr. Collum at the inn where he is staying when we both saw Mr. Kinnier arrive at the inn yard and speak to Mr. Golding.”

“I recognized Mr. Kinnier,” Mr. Collum said. “I did not realize Ord was following me, or I would have suggested we split up.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed,” Ord shot back.

“Regardless, I chose to follow Mr. Kinnier as the better choice, but in the woods, he attacked me,” Mr. Collum said.

“I was too far behind Mr. Collum to catch up to Mr. Kinnier when he ran,” Ord said. “I lost him in the woods.”

“I suppose I should be grateful you came back to help me,” Mr. Collum said dryly.

“You only got a wee bump in the head,” Ord said. “My lord, we went to Terralton Abbey and informed Lord Ravenhurst, who told us your direction. We followed you as soon as could be.”

“Let us be off. My thanks, Doctor Meredith.”

“I shall continue to unearth details and write my findings to you.” Doctor Meredith clapped his hands like a child and surveyed his books. “How exciting this all is.”

The drive back to Terralton Abbey was a mere twenty-five minutes, but it took far longer than Bayard could withstand. Alethea would not wander afield alone, but what if she were accosted while in the shrubbery or the park?

When they were home, Bayard flung himself from the carriage before it had stopped moving. “Saddle horses for us,” he ordered the groom and bounded up the stairs to the front door.

His neck tightened when Raven opened the door before he could reach it. “Alethea is gone.”

“What?” Bayard stumbled on the last step.

“As soon as Ord spoke to me, I searched for her. She was not in the house so I had the servants search the grounds, but they found nothing. However, her cloak is still here. She may have been taken against her will.”

Bayard shook his head. He could not contemplate the possibilities. “She took a shawl or a pelisse to walk in the shrubbery . . .”

“I spoke to her maid, who confirmed they are all still in her wardrobe. Lucy is also missing.”

“Who saw her last?” Bayard strode with quick steps to his study, where he kept maps of the estate.

“Forrow said that Mrs. Coon visited her for a short while. I sent a servant to the rectory, but Mrs. Coon had just left to visit a sick parishioner and the maid did not know to whom she went nor why she visited Lady Alethea.”

Bayard found his thoughts clarifying, his mind focusing. His breathing became hard and even. He needed all his faculties to find her, to find Kinnier. Alethea, Lucy, Mr. Golding, Kinnier. One of them would lead him to all.

On any other day, he wouldn’t have noticed his study door standing partly open.

“What is it?” Raven asked.

“I did not leave the door open.” He entered the study warily, but it was empty. Bayard’s eyes swept the room as he strode to the desk . . . and froze.

A map already lay spread out. It was a well-used map, with markings from over the years, but there was a fresh ink mark over a corner of the woods. And in the centre of the map, as though carelessly tossed, was a reed pipe.

He knew it was Alethea’s. His pipe was upstairs on his shaving stand.