“Yes, madam, he is in the kitchen stuffing his stomach under the watchful eye of Cook.” Charwood set the wrapped and string-tied package on the table.
“Good. Tell Cook to make him a basket of food to take with him to share with his fellows.”
“Immediately, madam.” Charwood bowed and turned to leave.
“Oh, and tell Mrs. Dunstan to join Miss Rangaswamy and me here.”
Charwood paused, his back stiff. Then, “Yes, madam,” he said, continuing out of the room.
Cecilia stared after him and frowned. Charwood was acting quite peculiar. She turned back to the bundle. “Miss Rangaswamy, would you kindly bring me my sewing scissors?”
Miss Rangaswamy bounced up off the sofa. “Yes, yes!” She grabbed Cecilia’s scissors and hurried to her side.
“Thank you.” Cecilia cut the knot binding the package and spread the paper covering out.
“Oh, that is Krishan!” Miss Rangaswamy exclaimed.
Cecilia laughed. “Well, it is meant to be! I’m gratified to hear you think it is an appropriate representative likeness.”
“His hair is a little longer now, but that is my Krishan.”
Cecilia picked up the top flyer. “It does identify him as the Earl of Soothcoor’s nephew, so that is good. It directs people who have information to contact Mr. Lewis Martin at Bow Street. I wish it had included us in the notification, or as an alternate, but I supposed Mr. Martin knows what he is doing.” She sighed and looked at Miss Rangaswamy. “Now we need to get this out and about.”
Mrs. Dunstan entered the parlor. “You asked for me, madam?”
“Yes, and you have come just in time. Come look at these.” Cecilia held out a flyer for her housekeeper.
“Well, mercy if he don’t have Lord Soothcoor’s eyes!” Mrs. Dunstan exclaimed.
“My thought as well when I first saw his picture. Do you think you could share these with your domestic associates? I think you told me once that on days off you like to go to The Pheasant House and gossip with your friends.”
Mrs. Dunstan clasped her hands together in front of her and stood up straighter, “Madam, we do not gossip. We exchange experiences,” she said, her lips pursed primly.
Cecilia repressed a smile. “Of course, you do. Regardless, what I want is for you to take some to The Pheasant House and pass them out. Tell them Bow Street believes the kidnappers have apprenticed the boy to a chimney sweep, and pass the word that Sir James and Lady Branstoke are offering five hundred pounds for any information that leads to the rescue of Krishan.”
Mrs. Dunstan’s eyes widened. “Five hundred pounds?”
“Yes. Encourage everyone to hire a sweep to clean their master’s chimneys, and to be on the lookout for this boy as a climbing boy. If they think the boy in their chimney is him, they must send word to us immediately! Is that clear?
“This is your most important task. And make sure our servants are aware as well, and give them flyers to pass among their associates. If one of our own is responsible for passing the word on to someone who finds the boy, they shall receive a reward of one hundred pounds.”
Mrs. Dunstan blinked. “That is too much, my lady! You will not get a lick of work out of them. They shall be so busy spreading the word.”
“Mrs. Dunstan, that is a small price for us to pay in our efforts to find the child.” Cecilia picked up the majority of the flyers and handed them to her housekeeper.
Mrs. Dunstan took them and bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, madam. I’ll go now.”
* * *
“Lady Oakley, madam,”intoned Charwood. He stepped aside to allow Lady Oakley to enter.
Cecilia rose from the parlor sofa to greet her guest. “Lady Oakley, thank you for coming,” she said, clasping her guest’s hands between hers.
“How could I stay away? Your note was all so mysterious,” the lady tittered like a young miss, her brown eyes owlishly wide open behind the lenses of her gold wire-frame glasses.
Cecilia giggled, “Yes, I daresay it was.”
Lady Oakley tilted her head to study Cecilia, sending the ostrich feather plumes attached to her purple turban swaying. “You are looking well, my dear. Though I am dismayed to note you are not increasing yet. Or are you?” she bluntly asked. Her thin, pale brows pulled together and her lips pursed as she studied Cecilia.
