“An Indian woman? Like Aisha, Lady Aldrich’s maid?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes, but younger, I’m thinkin’.” He waved his hand. “No matter. He asks me to bring a message to ya, which is why I’m here. He said to tell ya a child’s been kidnapped from the docks.”
“What?” Cecilia cried. She half rose, then sat back down again. “No. Tell me more. Tell me everything,” she directed. She looked over at her husband, who nodded grimly.
“That were ‘bout all I got from Mr. Thornbridge, jest that I was to hie down here this mornin’ and tell ya that. But Mr. Charwood, he visited me later, and that’s when it got stranger.” He scratched the side of his head.
“Wait, let me get my tea,” Cecilia said.
“Sit. Stay where you are. Darrell can get your tea and coffee refills for Mr. Romley and me.”
Darrell immediately brought hot tea to Cecilia, along with toast. Cecilia nodded her thanks. He refilled Sir James’s and Mr. Romley’s coffee and moved quietly to the side of the room by the breakfast buffet.
“Now, Mr. Romley, tell us how things got strange,” James said after he watched Romley stir three more teaspoons of sugar into his coffee.
“Mr. Charwood said the Indian woman claims the child kidnapped is the Earl of Soothcoor’s nephew.”
“Owen’s son?” James said. “I wasn’t aware Owen Sedgewick had a son.” He looked at Cecilia. “Owen is Soothcoor’s half-brother,” he explained. “Arthritis has nearly crippled him. He passionately declared he would never marry or have children for fear of passing on his arthritis pain to another.”
Mr. Romley shrugged. “Mr. Charwood said he thought it all a scam, but Mr. Thornbridge was serious-like. When I first saw her with him, I may have suggested she was less than a lady. Mr. Thornbridge took me to task.”
“Regardless of the young woman’s morals,” Cecilia said, “we have a mystery on the docks. I must return to London immediately, James. I want nothing going on that might hinder the sale of the company! And if there is a kidnapping, we must resolve it immediately regardless of who may be the subject of the kidnapping—commoner or peer.”
6
Rani woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. A young maid wearing a gray dress with a white bib apron came into her room carrying a laden breakfast tray. She sat up. She felt self-conscious. She’d never had someone bring breakfast to her before, or otherwise wait on her.
“Good morning, miss,” the maid said. She set the tray on a small table in the corner, then crossed to the windows to open the heavy white-and-yellow striped drapes, repurposed for the nursery from the dining room redecoration the previous summer. “Mrs. Dunstan explained how you have had a horrible time since coming to England. She said to let you sleep a bit. You were so worn to flinders, she said, and in need of a mite of pampering. That’s why I brung you a tray. Mrs. Dunstan, she be a dear—so long as we do our jobs and no shirking!” She turned back to the tray. “Do you like tea or chocolate? I didn’t know which you prefer, so I brought both.”
“Tea, but I can—”
“No, you relax. I’ll bring you your tea. Do you put anything in it?”
Rani shook her head. “No,” she said softly. She felt her cheeks grow warm. It embarrassed her for this woman to wait on her.
The maid brought her the tea, then fluffed the pillows behind her so she could lean back and relax while she drank her tea.
“Has Mr. Thornbridge returned?” she asked, eager for any word on the search for Krishan.
“No, miss, but it is early yet. My name’s Dot—well, actually it is Dorothy, but everyone calls me Dot—exceptin’ Lady Branstoke, she calls me Dorothy,” the maid said. “Eddie is bringing up hot water for a bath for you. You should like that, I’m thinkin’.”
“Yes,” Rani said as she watched the maid flit about the room. “I am Rani,” she said shyly.
“That’s a nice name,” Dot said as she kneeled down before the fireplace. “Mrs. Dunstan said you’re to be Miss Rangaswamy to us. That’s an exotic name,” the maid prattled on, as she shoveled the ashes off the banked embers before laying on more coal to get the fire going again to warm the room. “She said as how you are from India. Coo—that’s a far bit. We see such wondrous pictures in the print shops coming from India. Do you think I should like it there?” she asked artlessly, as she rose from the fireplace.
“I don’t know,” Rani said. She paused, then as she felt compelled to say something else to the voluble maid, she added, “it is hot.”
The maid considered heat for a moment. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I should like that. Are you finished with your tea? Shall I pour you another cup?”
“No!” Rani said quickly. She threw off the bed’s yellow-and-blue counterpane and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “No,” she said, softer and slower. “I will eat now.” She slid down off the edge of the bed.
“Right-o,” said Dot.
Rani crossed to the table and sat down. “Too much!” she exclaimed, when she saw the assortment the maid had brought.
“We didn’t know what you should like, so there is a bit of everything. But no meat. Mrs. Dunstan said no meat.”
Rani smiled sunnily at the girl. “Thank you,” she said simply.
