Page 68 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
“Anthony, look at him. He is the image of the portrait in her locket. And if he is who he says he is, Snowden is his enemy as much as ours.”
At that moment, a group of four riders arrived in the coachyard. They must have seen Snowy and his group because the lead rider led the others toward them, through the jumble of horses and carriages.
“Snowy,” called Elijah Ashby, even as the rider at his elbow called, “Hal!”
Mrs. Chapman turned white and then flushed red, her eyes shining as she stepped away from her husband and toward the third rider, who was ignoring everyone else, his gaze fixed on her.
“Dickon?” Mrs. Chapman answered her own whispered question. “Dickon!” She flung herself forward, even as the rider swung from his horse and opened both his arms, and they embraced, laughing with delight even as tears ran down their cheeks.
“Correct again,” Snowy said to Wakefield, though he could not help grinning at the happy pair.
“Is that Richard Deffew?” Chapman asked. “It must be.” His smile dawned and grew to a beam. “This is a happy day, gentlemen! Why did you not tell us that he was coming? Of course, we do not mind a delay for such a reunion! It has been a wound in Mrs. Chapman’s heart, and one I feared we would never see healed.”
The ostler interrupted. “Doctor, do you and the missus want the carriage or not?”
Chapman considered that with a slight frown. “A family emergency. Let me have a word with Mrs. Chapman, but I think we will have to put the journey off until tomorrow.”
The ostler shrugged. “I ’spect old Ferblowe,” he hooked a thumb in the direction of the inn, “will want you to pay for the post chaise, since you booked it. But no skin off my nose.”
At this point, Ned walked up to Snowy. “So, you are to marry Lady Charmain,” he said to Snowy. “Congratulations, Hal.” He gave Margaret a hug and a buss on the cheek. “My best wishes on your nuptials. I think you will be a wonderful sister.”
Ash, too, had congratulations to offer. “Regina is following in the carriage, but we rode ahead. Dickon was anxious to see his mother.”
He turned to smile at the family reunion. The young man had Mrs. Chapman tucked into his side and was shaking hands with Chapman. All three were smiling.
Dr. Chapman said something to Wakefield who came back toward Snowy and those with him. “Ash,” he said in greeting, “Mr. Snowden.”
“Call me Ned,” the young man suggested. “Less confusing.”
“The Chapmans are putting off their trip until tomorrow. Mrs. Chapman has invited the three of you to lunch. She wants her son to meet his little brother and his sisters, and she knows you two Snowdens will have some questions about your mother. Miss Trent and Frank should go with you, just in case. Ash, I thought we could treat everyone else to lunch here while we wait for your wife.”
*
The asylum wasa pleasant manor house set in a couple of acres of garden. Apart from the high gate and walls, it looked like any other substantial residence. More than a dozen people were at leisure in the garden, enjoying the sunshine; on second look, Snowy realized that at least half of them wore some sort of uniform.
Patients, presumably, and their keepers. When he asked Chapman, the doctor confirmed the assumption, but corrected his choice of words. “We prefer to call them our guests, who are with their attendants,” he said.
Smiles and waves reassured Snowy that Chapman was liked by “guests” and “attendants” alike. Wakefield had said the asylum was a kindly place, but Snowy had heard too many horror stories not to have been afraid for his mother. From Ned’s expression, he had felt the same way.
His opinion of the doctor was confirmed when an elderly woman with flyaway white hair and eyes of faded blue launched herself at the doctor and latched onto his arm.
“Dr. Chapman! You are back! Has it been seven days? Mrs. Pullman said you were going away for seven days. I wanted you to help me find Fluffy. I think he has gone into the village. Mrs. Pullman says I cannot go into the village. Will you take me to find Fluffy, Dr. Chapman?”
Chapman exchanged glances with his wife before leading the old lady off down a passage, talking quietly to her. He and the woman were joined by a flustered-looking woman in the uniform of an attendant; she patted the woman’s shoulder and tilted her head close to listen to her.
“Lady Barlow’s cat died three years ago,” Mrs. Chapman explained. “We thought she might forget when we got her another kitten of the same coloring, but unfortunately it turned out to be a short hair, and every now and again she goes looking for her Fluffy. Anthony will get her settled and come back to us. If you just follow me down here, I will take you to our private family quarters.”
*
They sat downto a magnificent spread, courtesy of the former Mrs. Deffew, where they were joined by the Chapman’s three children, ranging in ages from seven to two.
Dickon was soon absorbed in getting to know his brother and two sisters. The little boy had the same fearsome eyebrows as Dickon, and his face fell into the same glower on those rare occasions when it was not bright with laughter. The children’s antics absorbed Dickon; Margaret conversed with Chapman, who had arrived shortly after them.
Which left Ned and Snowy to talk to Mrs. Chapman. If she was Mrs. Chapman at all. Snowy remembered Wakefield commenting that Deffew’s death had come as a surprise to her.
But focused on Mrs. Chapman’s stories about his mother, and the little box of keepsakes she had produced for him and Ned to share, he thought no more about it.
“I want you to believe that she was happy here,” Mrs. Chapman assured them, “though she missed you both. She had reports about your good health and your accomplishments, Ned. Lord Snowden, she believed her friends were keeping you safe.”
