The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,79

with us.”

The dark-haired footman colored. “I did, sir. Thank you for remembering me. We’re a bit busy at present. The earl refused to see the other fellow who called this morning.”

“Slight fellow, ingratiating smile?” Abigail guessed.

“Yes, miss,” he said.

“Did you send him away then?” Linus asked.

“No. He asked to wait. Mr. Jonas, our butler, put him in the downstairs withdrawing room. Is he a friend?”

“An acquaintance,” Abigail hedged. “Perhaps we could wait as well?”

He shifted. “Mr. Jonas will have my hide, but I do think his lordship will want to speak to you.” He opened the door wider. “Welcome to Castle How.”

They ventured in.

Things had certainly changed since the last time Abigail had visited. Then, holland covers had obscured most of the furnishings. Now all the woodwork—from the dark flooring to the stairway climbing one of the tall walls—gleamed with a fresh coat of polish, and the twin stone statues flanking the hearth were visible, the graceful ladies balancing baskets on their heads.

The biggest difference, however, was in the amount of noise. From every quarter, doors slammed, and voices called.

“Miranda!”

“Lady Miranda!”

“Has the earl’s daughter gone missing?” Linus asked, and Abigail was likely the only one who knew the reason for the sudden tension in his voice.

The footman grimaced. “She likes to play her games, she does. It wasn’t difficult to find her in the London house, where everyone knew her hidey-holes. But here?” He spread his hands.

“Perhaps we could help,” Abigail ventured.

“After we speak to Doctor Owens,” Linus put in.

Of course. The French spy could not be allowed to escape again.

But when the footman led them to the withdrawing room off the grand entry hall, they discovered that the earl’s daughter wasn’t the only one missing.

Owens had vanished as well.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“We must alert Mr. Ellison and Mr. Carroll,” Abigail told Linus before dashing past the footman.

The fellow looked from her to Linus.

“Miss Archer thinks quickly,” Linus explained, edging after her. “You’ll become accustomed to it and be glad for it. I’ll assist her. You’ll want to help find Lady Miranda.”

He slumped. “Yes, sir. And thank you.” He hurried off.

Linus followed Abigail.

He had been in the castle before to tend the previous earl, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the location of the kitchen. Both the scent of something savory and the sound of more raised voices led him down a corridor on the opposite side of the grand entry hall, where he found Abigail in the midst of turmoil.

Mr. Carroll was apparently attempting to calm an agitated cook, while Abigail tried to make sense of a younger assistant. Both women were talking loudly and over each other.

“I’ve never had such doings in my kitchen,” the cook blustered.

“Of course I let my da in,” the younger woman protested.

“That other fellow went past me like I wasn’t standing right there,” the cook complained.

“And what does he do but go thundering down the stairs?” Jenny Ellison asked Abigail.

“I hadn’t even noticed that door before Lady Miranda went traipsing through it the other day,” the cook insisted.

“Why are they so eager to reach the caves?” Jenny demanded.

Abigail met Linus’s gaze over Jenny’s blond head, and he knew she had come to the same conclusion. This was as bad as he’d feared. Both Lady Miranda and Owens must have headed for the caves below the headland, the girl from curiosity and Owens to escape capture. Small wonder Ellison had given chase. Lady Miranda could well stand between Owens and freedom. She had unknowingly put herself in harm’s way.

Linus knew the pain of almost losing a child. He didn’t wait to sort things out in the kitchen. He plunged after Ellison, knowing Abigail would follow.

The stone steps turned down and down, and only a few yards below the kitchen, the light faded. Linus put one hand to the rough stone wall and slowed his movements. Below, a glimmer of light beckoned. He made his way toward it.

Soon voices drifted up. How many were in the caves? Had the French landed after all? No, it seemed only one or two voices, repeating. An echo, perhaps?

The glimmer grew until he stepped down into a cavern that stretched into the distance. A lantern sat crookedly on the rocks fallen from the ceiling that lay somewhere in the darkness above him. Ahead, Ellison stood, hands outstretched, with Owens before him, back against the lapping sea and one arm around the neck of a dark-haired girl about Ethan’s age. The so-called doctor was short enough, Lady Miranda tall enough, that the