“Oh! You think they left it unlocked for the next person to take him?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think yet, Miss Rangaswamy, but I have to cover all contingencies.”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” she nodded vigorously. “And this is why you say to think of my own questions because of what he say?”
“Precisely,” he said approvingly, angling more toward her on the sofa.
Cecilia wondered if she should stay in the room, so intently did the two of them look at each other. The reactions of each to the other quite took her interest. She felt like a voyeur but considered chaperone to be her role. An odd role for her!
“Ask him exactly how it happened that the other man came to get him out of the room and what that man said to him. Everything he can remember.”
Rani shook her head. “You expect a great amount from a little boy.”
He sighed, “Yes. And it might be he won’t remember when you ask, but be alert if he says something of merit later.”
“If we continue to tell him how brave he was, that may help toward alleviating any lingering anxiety he has and make him more comfortable with the memories. I wouldn’t be surprised if the trauma didn’t at first block some memories.”
Lewis looked at her consideringly. “I hadn’t thought of that, Lady Branstoke. I concede that might have an effect.” He shook his head as he sighed. “I recognize my own impatience. My anxiety is someone may try to get to him again. I will ensure there are watchers on your property.”
Rani reached out her hand and touched his forearm briefly. “You think they might, that my Krishan still be in danger?”
“I don’t know, Miss Rangaswamy. However, I do know I am loath to take chances.”
She nodded slowly. “Thank you for that,” she said solemnly. “If that is all, I would get back to Krishan now. I will remember your questions.”
She rose and Lewis did as well. “My lady,” Rani said, as she curtseyed to Cecilia and went out the door.
Cecilia rose as she left. She looked at Lewis. “I shall prompt her should she forget, which may happen because of her anxiety over Krishan.”
“Thank you, Lady Branstoke.”
“And I shall tell Sir James about the watchers. He will not like it, but he will appreciate it, as do I.”
14
After staring up in the dark at the bed hangings she could only see in her memory and not falling asleep, Cecilia quietly got out of bed, drew on her dressing gown, picked up the candlestick, tinderbox, and striker from beside the bed, and carefully let herself out of the bedroom she shared with James. She lit the candle, slid the striker into the pocket she’d insisted be sewn in the dressing gown, and walked down the hall to the nursery. Their house was unusual for the nursery to be on the same floor as their bedroom and the guestrooms to be on the floor above. Cecilia surmised the previous owners had designed it that way, and she personally liked the plan.
It had humorously surprised her when Mrs. Dunstan had requested the use of the drapes from the dining room, when Cecilia had arranged for that room to be redecorated. She told Cecilia she wanted to brighten up the nursery“Just in case,”she’d said, with a smile and a wink.
Judging by the looks of the nursery in daylight, she had done more than add new drapes and clean the room. Some judicious use of paint had been done as well. She wondered how she had paid for that! In time, she would find out. She suspected some squeezing of the household budget. Cecilia determined to look at the household account books when all the excitement and mystery resolved.
She set the candle down on a table in the hall and turned to open the nursery door, only to see it opening. Mrs. Dunstan quietly backed out of the room and closed the door. Cecilia did not want to startle the woman, so she stepped away from the door.
When Mrs. Dunstan turned, she stepped back in surprise; however, she did not screech in alarm, merely raised a hand to her chest. She too was dressed in her dressing gown—a surprisingly bold red affair—and wore a nightcap on her head.
“Lady Branstoke! What are you doing up?” Mrs. Dunstan whispered.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “So, I thought I would check on Christopher.”
Mrs. Dunstan nodded. “I couldn’t either—I thought I would relieve Miss Rangaswamy for a few hours.”
“She wouldn’t let you?” Cecilia asked, still on the barest breath of a whisper as they moved down the hall toward the stairs.
“Poor dear was lying on the floor by Master Christopher’s bed, sound asleep. I went into her room, pulled the quilt off the bed, and laid it over her. I didn’t have the heart to disturb her.”
Cecilia squeezed Mrs. Dunstan’s arm. “You did right, I think.”
“I’m thinking of going to the kitchen for warm milk. Would you like some as well?”
