Charlie guided her to an empty chair, and even as she seated herself she could see the Marquess of Attingsborough making his way back to the picnic site with Miss Hunt on his arm. The Earl and Countess of Sutton and another couple were with them. Lizzie was not, of course.
But just as Claudia was beginning to relax, chiding herself for becoming so frightened when Lizzie had a dozen or more chaperones to watch her, she could see Eleanor and her group returning from their walk to the east of the house.
Eleanor, Molly, Doris, Miriam, Charlotte, Becky—Lord Aidan’s daughter—an unknown girl, another, David Jewell, Davy—Becky’s brother…
Claudia got to her feet, searching the group more intently as it came closer.
Lizzie was not among them.
“Where is Lizzie?”
No one answered.
“Where is Lizzie?”
Lizzie had been feeling blissfully happy. She had come to Alvesley with eager anticipation, knowing that her papa was staying here. But she had not expected too much. For one thing, she did not want her new friends to stop liking her, and they might if they knew that she had a rich father who loved her. And so she was going to have to be careful not to give the game away. But she knew too that her papa would not want openly to acknowledge her. She knew that she was the bastard child of a nobleman and an opera dancer—her mother had made that very clear to her. She knew that she could never belong in her papa’s world, that she must never openly appear there. And she knew that he was about to marry a lady, someone from his own world—something her mother had always said would happen one day.
She had not expected too much of the picnic, then. She had been happy just to have him lift her down from the carriage and to hear him cheer for her when she hit the cricket ball with Lady Hallmere’s help. Her cup had run over with joy when he had come to play ring-around-the-rosy with her, as he had done sometimes when she was a little girl at home. He had held her hand and laughed with her and fallen on the grass with her. And when the game was over, he had kept hold of her hand and told her that he would take her for a boat ride.
Her heart had been fairly bursting with happiness.
And then a lady had spoken to him in a voice Lizzie had not liked and told him that he was neglecting Miss Hunt and she was close to fainting from the heat and he must come up to the house with them immediately and sit in the cool for a while. And he had sighed and called the lady Wilma and told Lizzie that the boat ride must wait until later but that he would not forget.
But hewouldforget, Lizzie decided after he had gone. Or if he did not, the lady called Wilma and Miss Hunt would make sure that he did not play with her anymore.
She wanted Miss Martin, but when she asked Lady Whitleaf, who came to take her by the hand, she discovered that Miss Martin had gone for a walk but would be back soon.
Lady Whitleaf let her hold Harry, something she had not done before, and she almost wept with happiness. But after a minute or two he grew cross and Lady Whitleaf said she had to go and feed him. Then Lady Rosthorn asked her if she would like to come and examine the bows and arrows and listen to the whistle they made when they were shot and the thumping sound they made as they sank into the target.
Miss Thompson asked her almost at the same moment if she would like to go for a walk with a few of the other children, but Lizzie was feeling a little depressed and said no. But then a few minutes later, when Lady Rosthorn and some other people were shooting the arrows, she was sorry she had not gone. It would have passed the time until her papa came back from the house—ifhe came. And until Miss Martin came back from her walk.
And then Lizzie had an idea. It was something that would make her very proud of herself—and it would surely make her papa and Miss Martin proud of her too.
Miss Thompson’s group could not have gone very far yet.
Lizzie tightened her hold on Horace’s leash and bent down to talk to him. He panted eagerly back into her face so that she wrinkled her nose and laughed.
“Go find Miss Thompson and Molly, Horace,” she said.
“Are you going somewhere, Lizzie?” Lady Rosthorn asked.
She would insist upon coming with her, Lizzie thought, and that would spoil everything.
“I am going to join my friends,” she said vaguely.
At the same moment someone was asking Lady Rosthorn for help with holding a bow.
“And you can find them on your own?” Lady Rosthorn asked. But she did not wait for an answer. “Good girl.”
And Horace—with Lizzie in tow—was off. Lizzie knew there were lots of people at the picnic. She knew too that there were constant and constantly changing activities. She hoped no one would notice her go and catch up to her to escort her to join the walk. She could do it on her own. Horace was her guide. He could take her wherever she wished to go.
She breathed more easily when the crowd was left behind and no one had hailed her or come dashing up behind her. She even smiled and laughed.
“Go find them, Horace,” she said.
After a while there was no longer grass beneath her feet but the hardness of a path or driveway. Horace led the way along it rather than across—the hard surface remained beneath her feet.
It did not take long for the initial euphoria of the adventure to wear off. The walking group must have had far more of a head start than she had realized. There was no sound of them. Once she drew Horace to a halt and listened and called Miss Thompson’s name, but there was no sound and no answer.
