“Your opinion is not wanted,” said the woman in freezing accents.
“Well, you got it anyway. And it ain’t favorable.”
Mrs. Wandrell glared at him. “I won’t be spoken to in such a way by a loutish servant.”
“I may be loutish, but I ain’t stupid. And I know rubbish when I hear it.”
“How dare you?”
“It’s the circumstances, I expect,” replied Tom.
“I shall tell your master that you insulted me and have you dismissed.”
“Don’t have a master.” The lad eyed her sourly. “Nor a stepmother either.”
The two locked gazes for a long moment, fuming resentment against solid rejection. Mrs. Wandrell gave up first. “Drive on,” she commanded through clenched teeth. The carriage started moving again. The young riders watched it go.
“Talking of fairy tales, she’s a right witch, she is,” said Tom.
“A wicked witch,” Geoffrey replied. “Vin-dic-tive.”
“I expect she is. But we don’t have to care about her. Or any nonsense she spouts. Which that talk was, Geoffrey. Nonsense, pure and simple. And I hope you know it.”
The boy nodded. “We should forget about her. Not tell anyone.”
Tom examined him, familiar by now with Geoffrey’s devious ways. “Why not?”
“She was mean about stepmothers. Miss Saunders would feel bad.”
“I expect she would.” Tom considered, then shrugged. “Right. I’ll keep mum. Unless that lady goes blabbing to his lordship about me.”
Geoffrey frowned. “Do you think she will?”
“No. She won’t want me to tell how spiteful she was.”
“Spite-ful.”
“It’s like ‘vindictive.’” Tom turned his pony. “Now let’s go find Bob before he sends out a search party.”
Wordlessly, Geoffrey followed him. Riding ahead, Tom didn’t notice the hard glitter in the boy’s angelic blue eyes.
• • •
“That’s strange,” said Jean, coming into the library with a shawl she’d gone to fetch on this chilly afternoon.
“What is?” replied Benjamin. At the fireside, with Jean sitting opposite and her chaperone off writing letters, he felt positively steeped in contentment.
“Mrs. McGinnis said a servant came by to inquire about Mrs. Wandrell.”
“Here? Why ask our housekeeper? Did they think Mrs. Wandrell had called to berate me about our engagement?”
Jean gave him a half smile, but shook her head. “Apparently she’s missing, and they’re asking all around the neighborhood.”
“Missing?” Benjamin sat up straighter. “Surely she’s just out for a drive or some such thing? Though it’s hardly the weather for it.” He looked out at the sodden landscape.
“It seems not. Her carriage is accounted for, and all her things. Mrs. McGinnis said it’s been several hours, and they’re rather worried. They’re organizing a search.”
He rose. “I should go to see if I can help.”