Cordelia? William and I are going to Whitby, and Teddy here is in need of a playmate.”
Harold nods. “I believe she’s playing in her room. I can take the lad up.”
August’s hand moves to Teddy’s shoulder, as if he’s ready to say no, he’ll take the boy to Cordelia. Before he answers, though, the figures fade, and I’m left alone at the side of the house.
I turn toward the old stables, and I see myself inside, leaning into a stall while William brushes an ancient pony. It’s the summer I was fifteen, and I hadn’t been visiting for long. This is the only pony in the herd, and all the other horses are at pasture.
“He’s too old to be with the others,” William explains. “I let him out when they come in, but he’s happiest right here. There’s a run he can use to get some sun.” A pat on the pony’s withers. “That’s all he wants at his age—a bit of sun, a bit of attention and an apple or two, mashed up so he can eat it.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-three.”
I whistle. “That’s ancient. I remember you used to have a pony, but this isn’t him.”
“No, this one belonged to . . .” A half-shrug. “A boy I knew. Theodore. His family has a summer home on the other side of the village. Teddy was three years younger than me, so he mostly played with Cordie, but he liked to follow me around.”
“Just like Cordelia?” I said, smiling.
“Exactly like Cordelia. Between the two of them, I scarcely had a moment to myself all summer. When I was twelve, I resolved to be firmer. I enjoyed riding with him, but there are limits to how long a twelve-year-old wishes to play with a nine-year-old. As it turned out . . .” His hands tightened on the brush. “He only wanted a little of my time, and I was a selfish brute.”
I moved beside him. We hadn’t shared that first kiss yet, so my fingers only hovered over his arm, not daring to touch more than the folds of fabric. “What happened?”
William swallowed. Then he said, his voice low, “He wanted to play in the moors. I said I was busy, and when he pressed, I became . . . brusque. So he went alone. I did not realize that, of course. If I had, I would have gone after him. He didn’t know the moors the way Cordie and I did. I should have paid more attention. I did not and . . .”
A sharp intake of breath as he set aside the brush and turned to me. “We searched for days. All they found was his coat by the bog.”
I gasped, hand flying to my mouth.
“Yes,” he said darkly before turning back to the pony. “He was alone out there, and it was my fault.”
I argued with him, and I could tell others had done the same, but that would never change how he felt, never abolish the guilt.
“This was his pony.” William’s lips quirked in a strained smile. “Teddy was a terrible rider, but he did love this old beast. After he passed, his parents planned to put the pony down. I offered to take him. He has a place here for as long as he lives.”
He reaches over to pat the pony’s piebald neck. “I am also far more tolerant of Cordelia’s demands on my time, as you might imagine. As Mother reminds me, Cordie will be grown and married soon enough, and then she’ll want little to do with her older brother. I should enjoy her adoration while it lasts. And I do. I have learned my lesson.”
I stand there, at the side of the house, staring at the barn. Then I run inside and up the stairs to the secret passage.
William thought Teddy had been lost in the moors, but I know exactly where he is, and I think I know what happened to him. Harold took him upstairs to see Cordelia, but he never got to her room. Harold showed him something guaranteed to catch a young boy’s attention: a secret passage.
I’m in the passage, shining my flashlight down the hole, and seeing nothing more than I did before. I want to get a better look at what the small body is wearing, to confirm that it’s the knickerbockers Teddy wore in the vision.
I need a stronger light. In the garage, there’s a corded trouble light Ronnie used to see under my car. I’ll