Page 47 of It Takes Two to Tumble
“Don’t lie. It doesn’t suit you. Alice told me to fetch you for supper, and I, being more good than sensible, agreed. I might collapse.”
“I doubt I’d be welcome at the Crawfords’,” Ben said.
“Our Alice is cleverer than that. She and Mrs. Howard have planned a picnic, and I’m to deliver you.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Where is this picnic?”
“Barton Hall,” Hartley said, flicking dust off his breeches. “Before you come up with a transparently false excuse not to attend, let me remind you that Alice is your oldest friend and has gone to some trouble to arrange an outing so that she might see you without your having to endure her parents’ disapproval.”
“I take it Captain Dacre will be there,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes.
“Naturally.”
“Can’t I just lick my wounds privately?” Ben grumbled. But he was already turning back down the path, heading towards Barton Hall.
Hartley had something up his sleeve; it was the only thing one could be certain of where his brother was concerned. But he couldn’t abandon Alice, he couldn’t resist Phillip, and he had nothing tempting him in the other direction except one last lonely walk around the lake.
Phillip emerged from the house to find Mrs. Howard directing the servants to put hampers of food on a flat spot near the lake. Miss Crawford was already sitting in a basket chair with an easel arranged before her while Walsh appeared to be holding her paints. Mr. Hartley Sedgwick was reading a book on one of the blankets that had been spread across the lawn.
“I’ll burn it if I don’t care for the way I look, Alice,” Hartley said without looking up.
“You always like the way you look,” she retorted, and Walsh laughed.
It was Mrs. Howard who caught sight of him. “There you are, Captain. Have you come to admire Miss Crawford’s painting?”
“Mr. Walsh brought me a new easel and figured out how to set it up so I don’t have to balance myself in the chair so awkwardly.” Alice gestured to the easel, which seemed to be pitched forward so she could reach it while still reclining. Phillip knew the lady had been ill, and nobody spoke precisely about the nature of her illness, likely because nobody knew what it was, including Miss Crawford herself. But he had seen her have difficulty walking, and how tired she got after even so much as sitting at the dinner table. She did not, however, have the look of a woman whose hopes had been shattered by a broken engagement.
“Hartley, I changed my coat. I hope this meets your specifications.” Phillip spun to see Ben, shrugging into what Phillip recognized as his second-best coat. “Oh, hullo, everybody’s here already.”
It had only been a day since he had last laid eyes on Ben, but seeing him now felt somehow like a relief.
“Mr. Sedgwick,” he said, his voice thick and awkward. “Thank you for coming.”
“Hartley very nearly abducted me,” Ben said, but he was smiling broadly, as if he couldn’t help but show how pleased he was to see Phillip.
“We’re going to let rumor spread that we’re quite cordial, Ben,” Alice said. “So come sit by me. No, get me sandwiches first.”
Ben flicked Phillip an amused glance before complying. Before long, the children arrived with a ball and the dog. The afternoon passed in a haze of sandwiches and easy conversation. Walsh stationed himself by Miss Crawford and Phillip noticed a handful of blushes pass between them, which he decided was very interesting indeed. Phillip seldom rose from the blanket, and couldn’t remember the last time he had been so idle. He watched the sun make its progress across the sky. He watched his children laugh and play, and tried to store up the memory against future times when they’d be far from his sight. He watched Ben, and knew there was no way that his heart could be fuller or readier to break.
The sun had set and the party ready to break up when somebody first noticed that Jamie was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Peggy who noticed her twin’s absence, and it was Peggy who seemed the most distressed. If it hadn’t been for the anxiety that was writ across her face, Ben would have assumed that Jamie had gone on one of his escapades.
“We always tell one another where we are going. Mr. Sedgwick tells us never to wander off alone without someone knowing exactly where we are. Jamie wouldn’t have gone off without telling me,” she insisted to the party at large.
“The dog is gone too,” Ned whispered.
Scanning the small crowd, Ben sought out Phillip, who had the rigid posture of a man in shock. Ben crossed the lawn in three strides to reach him. “He’s likely in one of the barns with a jar of greengage jam that he didn’t feel like sharing with the rest of us,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “But we’ll organize a search party.”
Ben caught Hartley’s eye. Years ago—it had to be more than ten years since—Will had disappeared on a November evening. It had been cold and pitch-black when Ben and Hartley had combed the hills, armed with torches and shouting Will’s name. They had found him in the gamekeeper’s lodge at Lindley Priory. It had been terrifying at the time, and Ben’s fear had only been increased by the lack of alarm displayed by any of the adults at Fellside Grange, who seemed to think it completely reasonable for an eight-year-old child to wander off for reasons of his own.Children are meant to be free, their father had always said.
That event had brought home to Ben the fact that if anybody was going to look after his younger brothers, it had to be him. He had scrimped and saved from the housekeeping money and pinched his father’s pawnable belongings to make sure his brothers were safe and fed, at least.
Now he realized that it hadn’t been his own doing, but rather Hartley’s sacrifice, that had kept the family provided for. He tried to dislodge those thoughts from his head and come back to the present.
“I’m going to go look for him,” Phillip said, his voice heavy with distress.
