I met his inquiring gaze and spoke through my tight throat. “Harry is missing. He left Knutchester, and nobody knows where he’s at.”
In two long strides, Flynn was at my side. He clasped my hand, his support most welcome. During our two days together, both men treated me with reverence until I stupidly let slip my father’s role in picking Rex. Today, I would call on their strength to help me through this nightmare.
“Do you have a photograph of your son?” Stark asked.
“Yes, I have one.” Rex released me and strode to his desk, lifting one of the framed photographs of our family on Anne’s wedding day. We all looked joyous and eager that day. The troubles of our lives were inconsequential compared to what I was suffering through right now.
“Can you tell me about the last time you saw your son?” Stark asked me.
Flynn released my hand and moved to the windows overlooking the garden to pace the room.
“I don’t know what relevance this will have. The last time she saw him was with me,” Rex answered, his hand behind his neck. His usual calm demeanor was frayed from nerves.
“I don’t mind telling him.” I wanted to keep us both calm. Inside, my mind screamed in agony. I began to tell the chief inspector what I recalled and told myself Harry would make hisway home. Like Rex said, he was a resourceful boy. I pointed to the photograph. “As you can see, he has blond hair, and he’s tall for his age. He’s also very smart but doesn’t see the world as others do.”
The chief inspector had a knowing look on his face. Before he could call Harry derogatory names, I interrupted, “There is nothing wrong with my son.”
Rex spun on his heel, fire in his eyes, his hands balled into fists. He was fiercely protective of Harry, and I was afraid he might do something like punch the chief inspector for his insolence.
I put a staying hand on Rex’s arm, gripping his flexed biceps. “Harry is very much aware of his surroundings, and he’s cognizant of danger. He just gets something in his head and must follow it through.”
“Well bloody hell.” Flynn’s voice cut through the tension. We all turn to look at him. He shook his head, pointing outside, a wide grin replacing his earlier grimness. “Harry’s in the garden.”
Everything in me deflated, and my knees buckled. I surely would have fainted if it wasn’t for Rex grabbing my arm at the last moment. I couldn’t believe Harry was outside this entire time. Hysterical laughter escaped, and I put my hand over my mouth, tears wetting my palm.
Chief Inspector Stark pressed his lips together, a sparkle in his gaze that wasn’t there a moment before. He and his force had been called out for a false alarm, but he didn’t look upset, rather relieved like the rest of us. “Can you confirm that is indeed Lord Harry?” he asked.
I strode to the window and saw my son at his favorite flower bed. The shaking in my hands had decreased, my laughter subsiding. “Yes, that’s him. How did he get past the servants?”
“That is a good question.” Rex squared his shoulders, his hands still shaking as he looked at the butler who stood just inside the door.
“There was a fire in the kitchen. He must have slipped by during the chaos,” the butler said, red-faced. “My apologies, your graces, I had no idea he was outside.”
“I am sure you didn’t.” Rex turned to the chief inspector, “You can call off your team, Stark. I offer my highest gratitude for the speed with which you have responded. Your department will be adequately compensated for the trouble.”
“I am just glad he is home safe. I have two boys of my own.” Chief Inspector Stark nodded, motioning to his fellow officer.
Rex turned on his heel and rushed outside, Flynn and me on his heels. The past half-hour felt like a lifetime, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug Harry or shake him.
“Harry,” Rex called out, storming across the yard. I had never seen him this furious before. Although I knew he would never hurt our son, Harry didn’t always see when he did something wrong. Accusing him of something without explaining it just agitated him further, and he shut down.
“Calm down, Rex. You know he doesn’t respond well to anger,” I said.
With a grim nod, he slowed his steps until I could walk beside him. Our differences aside for the moment, he took my hand as we approached our son.
Harry was knee-deep in a pile of mud, a jar of worms beside him. He looked up and smiled. “I found a treasure trove of worms.”
Rex worked his jaw, clearly torn over the entire affair. Flynn laid a hand on my husband’s shoulder in support.
“Uncle Flynn, look, ClassClitella earthworms.” Harry held up the jar, his hands caked with mud.
“Harry, why did you leave school without telling anyone? Atticus was frantic when he found out you were missing, as were your mother and I.” Rex spoke with a calmness that belied the upset furrowing his brow. He exhibited great restraint, given the circumstances.
“I didn’t like it there. I told Atticus I wanted to go home, but he told me I couldn’t leave because I had no way home. He was wrong. I caught the train home.” Harry shrugged and went back to digging, clueless to the trauma he caused. “When I got here, Mama wasn’t here, and I needed to check on my worms.”
Harry had come looking for me, and I wasn’t here for him. The words would forever haunt me. By allowing him to go to school when I had reservations and by attending the conservatory instead of being here when he came home, I’d failed my son.
“Why didn’t you tell the servants where you were?” Rex asked Harry.
