Chapter Eleven
Forced to remainindoors, the day seemed interminably long. Jenny had given up on lessons and instead chose the children’s favorite pastimes to distract them. After they played a board game, she’d suggested reading “The Tortoise and The Hare,” but they demanded one of hers. She made up a story about Heggie, the baby hedgehog one of her sister, Beth’s stray animals, which even William enjoyed. The puppet show employing hand puppets she made from sewing button eyes onto old stockings held their interest for a time, but soon they became tired and restless.
After luncheon, Jenny decided the best course would be for them to have an afternoon nap. Barbara began to fret and was constantly distracted by the kitten, and William was close to falling asleep, but he repeatedly asked Jenny when his father would come home.
“I’m too old for naps,” William protested as she settled him in bed. She handed him a book, but he only read one page before falling asleep.
Quiet descended. Still tense and worried by the frightening experience of the previous evening, Jenny opened her sewing-box, then sat in a chair and hemmed a shift. Did the staff suspect her of making up stories merely to see the duke? She’d had to distract William when he had noticed her breakfast had not been served. Her luncheon, however, arrived on time. So perhaps it would not happen again. If it was a comment on her conduct, she imaged it wouldn’t be the last of it, because she was determined not to let another night pass without informing His Grace of the terrifying episode on the roof. She would not trust Forrester to tell him, for he could not have learned the whole of it from Mrs. Pollitt.
George stood guard at the nursery door, and as soon as the duke’s coach arrived, no matter what the hour, she would speak to His Grace before he retired to his apartments.
After the children woke, the rest of the afternoon dragged on into the rose and purple light of evening. Jenny stood at the nursery window, her gaze caught by the golden ribbon of driveway lit by flickering braziers.
It approached midnight when the duke’s coach, pulled by six handsome dappled grays, drew up before the front entrance.
Jenny cast a quick glance in the mirror and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She looked tired and pale but her determination to seek help for the children did not falter. It was worth all the condemnation of the staff, and possibly the duke’s anger to approach him at this hour. In the corridor, George rose from the chair to greet her. “His Grace has arrived, George. I’ll go down to speak to him. I don’t expect it will take very long.”
“You do what you have to. I’ll be here, Miss Harrismith.” As she approached the stairs, George sat again, folded his arms, and leaned back.
Much of a footman’s life required great patience, Jenny thought sympathetically, as she darted downstairs. For such strong, active young men that could not be easy. She began to form her thoughts into a cohesive description of what had happened to William, aware she needed to grab the duke’s attention, when he would be tired from his journey.
Jenny considered it best to use the great staircase. She hoped she wouldn’t meet any of the servants at this time of night. It was a foolish hope, for below in the entry hall, the butler, who would normally have retired by this hour, and a footman, stood with the duke. Her hand tightened on the banister as she descended. Forrester conversed with His Grace as he divested himself of his hat and greatcoat into the footman’s arms.
The duke looked up and saw her, and his brow furrowed. He said something to the butler who in turn glanced up, then His Grace strode across the vast echoing marble floor. When she reached the bottom step, he held out a hand to assist her down.
His serious blue eyes surveyed her, his eyebrows raised. “Miss Harrismith?”
“Your Grace, I must speak to you.” She took his large gloved hand in hers and stood before him, swallowing nervously. Her anxiety came more from the upsetting news she must tell him than the man. He exuded a kind of strength and power which she welcomed.
In fact, after the dreadful happenings of last night, she would dearly love to step into his arms and rest her head on his broad chest. The thought startled her, and she gazed up at him anxiously. His expression was hard to read. Concern, and something else, indefinable.
“What is it you wish to speak to me about, Miss Harrismith?”
Aware she’d become tongue tied, she glanced at the butler, whose stiff stance and frowning countenance conveyed outrage. “Might we talk…”
“Come to the library.” The duke turned. “Go to bed, Forrester.” He strode with her down the hall.
The footman preceded them and lit the candles. “Do you wish me to light a fire, Your Grace?”
“No need Jeremy.” He turned to her. “I apologize for the cold room, but I don’t anticipate this will take long, Miss Harrismith.” He eyed her carefully as he smoothed a hand over his hair. “Who is with the children?”
“The footman, George.”
He nodded. “Sit please, Miss Harrismith. This must be important, but before you tell me, I believe a drink is in order. What will you have?” He walked over to the drink’s table. “Brandy? Or I can send for coffee?”
“Brandy, thank you.” Jenny had never so much as tasted it in her life, but right now, she felt a definite need of it.
He nodded approvingly. “Good choice. I always find coffee disturbs one’s sleep.” He poured two glasses and walked over to hand her one. He sat on the chair on the other side of the fireplace. “Now, what must you tell me at this ungodly hour of night?”
Jenny held the balloon glass in both hands and took a hurried gulp. The brandy lit a fire in her throat and brought on a coughing fit.
“It’s generally wise to sip it, Miss Harrismith.” A slight smile tugged his lips.
“Your Grace.” Jenny breathed deeply. When more confident of her voice, she launched into a hurried description of the episode at the tower from the beginning when she’d woken to find William gone.
He sat forward frowning and fired off a question. “Why did you assume William would go up to the tower? He might have gone downstairs.”
“I wasn’t sure, but if he’d gone downstairs, he would soon return. I couldn’t take that chance.”
