“Miss Sterling, I hope you aren’t planning on going to walk to the village anytime soon. Or if you do that you not go alone.”
Puzzled, Isobel pulled her gaze from the children to meet John’s eyes. His normal buoyant and overly familiar manner was gone.
“If your duties require a visit to the village, perhaps you’ll let me escort you. You see there’s been another.”
She raised a brow. “Another what?”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Another disappearance. The baker’s daughter this time.”
Isobel drew herself up and stood straight. “A disappearance? I was not aware there had been a previous one.”
John clucked his tongue. “Inside servants are falling down on the job, are they? All too busy talking about the count and his son I expect, but there are two young women missing. It’s the most excitement these parts have ever seen. The girl disappeared last night on her way home from visiting a friend. And this one can’t possibly be a runaway.”
“They thought the first girl ran away?” She had heard something about that. It had been a minor note of gossip in the house since the young lady in question wasn’t known in these parts.
He nodded. “I don’t know her name. Sarah something. She was from Etal, the little berg on the north side of Ford. Went missing almost a week ago. But most everyone thought she’d run off. She was said to be fast,” he added in a lower voice. “Had several fellows she walked with, if you know what I mean. When she disappeared even her parents thought she’d gone off with some man. But now they’re not so sure, ’cause this other one can’t possibly be a runaway. Lottie, the baker’s daughter, was engaged to the blacksmith’s son and was happy about the match by all accounts.”
Isobel mulled that over. “It’s still possible that first girl did run off,” she pointed out, crossing her arms. “And perhaps the second one was waylaid by a friend or tried a shortcut in the woods and became lost.”
Even as the words left her mouth, she realized she didn’t believe them. Young ladies from the village, even those of the lower classes, avoided the woods during this season. They were cold and damp, with few discernible tracks or paths running through. It would be easy to become lost amongst those tall trees. She’d made it a point to learn the few paths well during her half-day off.
And the best hiding places, she thought, recalling her insurance policy deep in the woods. It won’t come to that, she assured herself. But Isobel felt better knowing she was prepared.
John gave her a disbelieving glance before shrugging. “Until they turn up, it wouldn’t do to walk alone. If they turn up.”
“I will keep that in mind,” she said in an even tone before calling out to the children.
Their leisure time was over.
Chapter 3
“They want me to dine with the family?” Isobel asked in disbelief.
She had been preparing for dinner in the kitchen. Though she didn’t dine with the staff, she did take her meal in their serving hall, just after they had eaten, but before the family’s meal was served in the dining room. Some governesses chose to have a tray sent to their room, but Isobel didn’t want the servants to think she was putting on airs. Consequently, they were friendlier to her than they had been to tutors past. They still complained about how high in the instep her predecessor had been.
That regard was evident now as the chambermaid, her face red from a dash up to the third floor, nodded eagerly.
“Yes, Miss,” Mary said, her round form almost quivering with excitement. “Sir Clarence bade me to tell ye that yer presence is required at dinner tonight. ’E didn’t seem terribly happy about it, truth be told,” she finished honestly as she reflexively straightened the bedclothes.
Isobel frowned. “If he’s not pleased with the idea, why would he ask me to dine with the family?”
Mary literally hopped up and down. “It was the Nobile who asked for ye. Did ye know that’s what a count’s son is called in Italy miss?” she said, walking over to the wardrobe and rifling through it.
“Nobile means nobleman in Italian,” Isobel said absently. “The count’s son is the Nobile dei Conti di Santa Fiora. The family seat is southeast of Florence.”
Her stomach was tight and her head was swimming. Why would their guest ask for her?
“And I thought Marchioness was a mouthful,” Mary said, wrinkling her nose as she struggled to process the intricacies of addressing the upper classes. “We don’t have much time, Miss. Ye best put this on,” she said, holding up what passed for Isobel’s best dress. “So, when did ye meet his lordship?” she asked eagerly.