Billy attacked the turnip sacks with misgivings but once opened, it was clear that their contents were still in good condition and quite edible. Harriet had eaten worse things in her time and entertained Billy with several stories of much more inferior provender she had been obliged to consume when she was not much older than he was now. Highly impressed, he tucked into sufficient of the vegetables to stay his hunger and begged for more anecdotes of her Peninsular experiences.
In this way Harriet managed to allay the boy’s fears, although, as time passed, she found herself growing more and more concerned at the absence of any rescue. Where are you now, my reluctant hero? her heart cried out forlornly, but her battered head responded immediately with the sure and certain belief that Sandford would not rest until he found her. Clinging to this knowledge, she found some comfort of her own.
Chapter Thirteen
The first clap of thunder penetrated Sandford’s brain and his eyes flew open with a start. Just for the merest moment he had believed it to be the sound of cannon-fire. Then, smiling and relaxing with a lazy yawn, he sat up and stretched and wondered where the devil Kimble had got to, for surely his valet should normally be busying himself about the bedchamber at this hour. He had to shake his head once or twice to clear away the remaining cobwebs and, as he did so, the night’s events came rushing back to him. Leaping out of bed, he hastened to the window, which overlooked the rear terraces. It was pouring with rain. He sighed. No sign of Harriet, of course, she must be waiting in the salon. He glanced down at his pocket-watch on the dresser.
Good God! It was almost three o’clock! Why had no one woken him for morning service? Chagrined, he now had vague recollections of Kimble trying to rouse him from his stupor. She’ll be furious, he thought, angrily pulling at his bell-cord for the third time, and we’ll be at daggers’ drawn again, just when it all seemed to be coming about. He cursed his own stupidity.
The door opened and Kimble entered. Sandford was about to give him a piece of his mind when, to his astonishment, he saw his sister-in-law following the valet into his bedchamber.
‘Judith?’ he said, somewhat taken aback at this unexpected invasion.
‘Harriet’s missing,’ said Judith, without preamble.
‘M-missing? How do you mean?’ Sandford gripped at the bedrail to steady himself.
‘Wake up, Robert, for God’s sake!’ said Judith angrily. ‘We’ve been searching since eight o’clock—the whole village is out looking for her!’
Sandford sank down on to his bed weakly and stared at her in uncomprehending horror.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said at last. ‘She was going to wait on the terrace—she promised she wouldn’t go anywhere without Rothman—where the hell is Rothman? So help me, I’ll kill him!’
‘That will be a great help, I’m sure,’ said Judith unkindly. ‘Just get yourself dressed, man, and come to Lord William’s room as quickly as you can!’
Sandford looked down and realised with a shock that he was clad only in his dress pantaloons. Glowering at Kimble, he grabbed the proffered dressing-gown and covered himself in one swift movement.
‘Save your blushes, Robert,’ said Judith, turning to leave. ‘We have more important things to think about.’
After quickly splashing cold water over his face and scrambling into the garments Kimble passed him, Sandford was ready in minutes and hurried to his father’s chamber where the astonishing sight of a great crowd of people met his eyes.
‘Father? Mother?’ He walked forward anxiously. ‘What is it—what has happened?’ The earl eyed him sourly. ‘You picked a fine time to take to the bottle, my boy,’ he said. ‘The whole village has gone mad—and no one is in charge, it would seem.’
Sandford looked around the room, hardly recognising half of those present. ‘Where’s Charles?’ he said heatedly. ‘Surely he—’
‘Charles has disappeared, too,’ said Judith, her voice shaking, and immediately the rest of the group started to add their various and unconnected pieces of information until Sandford could stand it no longer.
‘Enough!’ he roared. ‘Not another word until you are asked!’
The hubbub ceased at once and Sandford’s eyes swept quickly amongst the expectant faces, desperately searching for Tiptree, and it was with overwhelming relief that he saw his stolid groom step forward.
‘Tip? What’s going on, man?’
In his clear but unhurried fashion, Tiptree related the events that had preceded Harriet’s disappearance, culminating in Cooper’s return to the kitchen and Davy Rothman’s setting out, as instructed, for the Dower House.
‘He couldn’t have been more than five minutes behind her, guv—but there was no sign of her. He searched the bridleways on both sides of the lane and went to the top of Bell Hill—nothing, sir. He’s taken it real bad, too,’ finished the groom.
‘Go on,’ said Sandford grimly, caring less than a jot for the inadequate Rothman’s finer feelings, but realising that nothing would be gained by losing his temper.
‘Mr Ridgeway came back from Westpark and when he heard what had happened he set everybody from the yard and out of the gardens to search the copses—even some of the footmen went into the hayfields to look. When word got down to the village, they all turned out and the Reverend had to cancel the service because there was no congregation!’
He studied his master’s face anxiously. ‘We’ve been everywhere, my lord,’ he said gently. ‘The whole place has been combed over twice or more. One of our stable-lads thought he had seen Miss Cordell heading in the opposite direction—up towards the Top Meadow—but we’ve had searches going on up there, too. They’re refusing to stop, guv—even though it’s pouring with rain, as you see, sir.’
Sandford shot a cursory look out of the window, then turned once more to face Tiptree. ‘You said Mr Ridgeway came back.’ He frowned. ‘Then where did he go?’
‘He took two men down to search the lake area, sir—Beckett and Hinds, from Westpark—but he left them to it and said he was going up to Staines—nobody had looked there, apparently.’
‘And he didn’t return?’ Sandford was finding it difficult to breathe.
‘No, sir,’ said Tiptree, shaking his head. ‘And I went there myself, guv, and searched the place from top to bottom and inside out—the tenants were very co-operative.’
‘And no sign of the horses—Mr Ridgeway’s big mare?’
‘He wasn’t riding Bess, guv—she’d been out all night. He’d picked up one of our two-year-olds, but nobody can remember which one.’
‘And no sign of Clipper?’ demanded Sandford hoarsely.
Tiptree was silent for a moment. ‘Miss Cordell’s mare has just been found in West Wood, sir—during the second search there. She’s been given something, guv—can’t tell what, exactly, Smithers is seeing to her—and her saddle was missing.’
Sandford, white-faced, had collapsed on to the empty chair beside his mother, who leaned forward to put a tentative hand on his knee. Her eyes were full of tears for she could find no words with which to comfort him.
‘The men are waiting for new orders, my dear,’ she said softly. ‘You must take charge now.’
There was a tense silence as the expectant assembly now focused its attention on the distracted viscount. The minutes dragged on until a violent clap of thunder suddenly reverberated above the roofs. Everyone in the room started with shock and, at the same time, Sandford