The Forgiven Duke Part 3

A woman sat in a rocking chair in front of a stone fireplace, her face buried in her hands. No one else was about so Alex touched her shoulder. "Please, can we help you, miss?"

The woman looked up, startled, and then quickly wiped her tears on her ap.r.o.n. She stood and faced them. "I'm sorry. My son is missing since yesterday and half the town is out searching for him. I fear he has drowned in one of the hot springs." She appeared about to burst into another round of tears but rallied. "Have you come from the s.h.i.+p that just docked? Are you visitors? We are such a small village; we know everyone in town."

"Yes, this is my . . . friend." There was no use saying they were married if they were to have the ceremony here in Iceland. "John Lemon and I am Alexandria. Is this an inn? We have need of a place to stay."

"Yes indeed. We've rooms here. I'm Ana Magnusson. My husband is out searching for Tomas."

Alex motioned toward the chair. "Please, tell us what happened. Perhaps we can help with the search."

The woman hesitated and then nodded, motioning for them both to sit down. "Tomas is ten years old and always disappearing and giving me a fright, I can tell you, but this time he has been gone all night!" Her lower lip started to quiver. "I'm so afraid he is lying hurt somewhere."

"What does he look like?" Alex knew the feeling and tried to keep her talking.

"He has blond hair and blue eyes. He is tall for his age and has the most angelic smile. Always getting into mischief though."

"What sort of mischief? You've searched all his favorite hiding places?"

"Oh yes. He is usually found at the beach or near the hot springs. He's a good swimmer but the current could have spirited him away. I'm afraid we'll never find him."

John leaned forward. "We've just come from a large s.h.i.+p with a lookout. They would have had a good chance of spotting him if he was lost at sea."

"That's true, isn't it?" Ana's eyes lit up. "I should have Hans alert the captain before they depart to be on the lookout."

"What about favorite games he likes to play? What does he like to do?" Alex clasped her hands in concentration, thinking of places she had enjoyed escaping to as a child.

"He pretends he's a soldier sometimes, making pistols and swords out of sticks." She shook her head as if unable to think of anything else. "He's such a good boy. Oh, I don't know what I shall do if we don't find him." The poor woman broke down again into tears.

"May I see his room?" Alex asked, thinking taking some action would at least help her get through the next few minutes. "There might be a clue there."

"Well, I don't know." The woman hesitated. "We've looked all over his room, of course."

"It may sound a bit strange, but I have something of a knack when it comes to solving mysteries. A gift from my parents, I suppose. They are famous fortune hunters and travel all over the world solving important mysteries."

The woman's eyes widened. "Not the Featherstones? I thought you looked a bit familiar."

"You know my parents? Were they here?"

"They were here months ago. They stayed with us for a time. They were searching for something important, though they wouldn't say what it was. The whole town speculated on it, but we never learned what it was. And then, one day, they just disappeared."

Alex's heart pounded harder with each word. She looked over at John. "As desperate as I am to find my parents and hear everything about their stay here, let us try and help you find Tomas. May I see his room?"

"Yes, of course." Ana led them up a narrow staircase to the sloped ceiling of a small attic room. She lit a lantern and turned the wick until bright light flickered around the room.

Alex went through the drawers, the small box of toys, the clothes hanging on pegs, the pockets of each little pair of pants, and searched under the bed. Nothing unusual. She turned back the blanket and searched under the covers and then, with John's help, lifted the feather ticking and looked under the mattress. She'd always hidden her secret scribbling in a book under her mattress.

Finding nothing, she started to remake the bed. When she lifted the pillow she noticed a fluttering underneath and turned it over. "That's strange."

"What is it?"

"It looks as if Tomas has cut a nice rectangle from the back of this pillow casing. Has this been there long?"

"No. I just washed the bedding last week and a hole wasn't there then. What do suppose he's doing with a sc.r.a.p of cloth like that?"

Alex stared at the shape of it. "It could be a tail for a kite or . . ."-she imagined the sticks he played with-"a flag or something at the end of a stick he's using for his make-believe games."

A loud noise coming from the downstairs made them all turn. "That would be my husband. Maybe they've found Tomas!"

They hurried back downstairs where a tall, blond man stood, his head almost touching the ceiling. "We've guests?" he asked his wife in a voice gruff with worry.

Ana made the introductions.

"You haven't found him," she said in defeat.

"Not yet, but we will."

"Lady Featherstone found something in his room. He cut off the back of the pillow casing, and she thinks he may have made a flag or kite with it."

"Another Featherstone, eh? Well, it won't hurt our cause to have you both helping. I've just come in for some rope before heading back out. It will be dark soon and almost impossible to search at night."

"We're glad to help."

"Rope! What do you need that for, Hans?" Ana paled whiter.

"Just in case we need it," he said in a soothing voice. "Could you fill the canteens while I fetch it?"

Ana nodded and filled two canteens from the bucket of water that sat on a long table against one wall. She found a third one and filled it for John and Alex. "I'm coming with you." She reached for a heavy cloak.

The wind had become a gale force as the four of them hurried down the street. Neighbors leaned out of their doors, some joining them and some inquiring the latest news with promises of prayers. Alex studied the buildings, looking for crevices and hiding places where a young boy might have burrowed in and gotten stuck. They called his name, but only the wailing wind answered them.

Alex s.h.i.+vered inside her cloak, thinking she must have some warm furs made up into a better coat for the winter. A road led out of town splitting north and southeast. "Would he have followed the road?" Alex looked in both directions.

"I don't know," Ana moaned.

"We've already searched both routes." Hans shook his head. "I thought perhaps he had gone fis.h.i.+ng." There was a catch in his voice as he said it.

John leaned toward Alex. "It's probably hopeless, poor fellow."

"It's not hopeless. We have to pray." Alex turned to the Magnussons. "Might we pray together? G.o.d knows where Tomas is."

"I have prayed nearly every minute since I discovered him missing, my lady, but I welcome your prayers." Ana took a step closer and grasped Alex's hand. They all closed their eyes.

"Dear heavenly Father," Alex began in a steady voice, "we beseech You on behalf of little Tomas and ask for Your help. Please, G.o.d, lead and direct our steps. Open our minds to new possibilities and clues, light our way. Help us find little Tomas and please keep him safe and well until we get to him. Amen."

John shuffled his feet, appearing uncomfortable.

"John, what's wrong?" Alex whispered as they walked a little ways down the road and peered into the brush surrounding them.

"Nothing. I just don't like this. We're losing time and anyway, I don't believe in miracles."

"You don't? Well, I do," Alex stated with heat. She'd been so enamored by his charm and good looks that she hadn't really found out much about his beliefs. How could she marry someone who didn't share her faith? And how could he care that they were losing some time when something so important was at stake?

"Tomas," she called, fanning out and away from the group. "Tomas!" The light of the moon shone bright, helping them search the area around the road that led to a small hot spring. Steam hummed above the surface of the pool as it came into view. It looked inviting to her; might it not have been enticing to Tomas?

"Ana, Hans," Alex called, "is the water too hot? Would he have tried to bathe in it?"

"He might have." Hans walked over. "It's bearable though on the warm side. But we've already looked here. His body . . . it would float if he had drowned here."

Alex sighed, placing her hand on Han's arm. "You've searched every building in town? Every place surrounding the town? Can you think of any place you may have missed?"

He shook his head, scratching the back of it. "No . . . we've had the townsfolk looking with us all day. They searched all their houses, the shops . . ." He stopped. "Wait a minute. The church. The roof was being repaired these last few days and they kept it locked up, but Tomas talked of getting up in that belfry one day. Since it's locked, I don't think anyone thought to check there."

Hope flared through Alex. "Come on." They called Ana and John to follow them and rushed back toward town. Within minutes they rounded a corner and looked up at the church where the tall, square tower of the belfry sat at the top. A perfect place for a child to sneak into and play all sorts of make-believe games.

They ran closer and then around to the other side. "Tomas!" she yelled up at the leaded gla.s.s windows. She rounded to the back and stopped. There, plastered against the white stone and hard to see, was a sc.r.a.p of fabric flapping against the wall. The window looked to have been broken too.

"It's him! It has to be!" she shouted.

John was just behind her. "How are we going to get up there?"

The parents hurried around the corner and gazed up. "It's the pillow casing!" Ana shouted. They all ran for the front door, which was locked tight, just as they thought.

"If he's up there, he had to have gotten in somehow. Look for broken windows," Hans shouted. They hurried around the church searching for a way inside. Sure enough, at the back of the building there was a loose board on the bottom of the back door. Hans kicked open the rest of it and they all pushed their way inside.

"Tomas!" They ran through the church to a set of stairs, up the stairs, through a long balcony, and to a little room that held a ladder against one wall leading to the belfry. First Hans, then Ana, her foot slipping on one of the rungs in her hurry, flew up the steps. Alex held her skirt up, waiting for her turn.

"Careful." John came up close behind her, bringing up the rear. "I don't want you getting hurt."

Alex frowned at him. Why was he being so annoying and smothering?

"Oh, Tomas!" They could hear Ana's wail.

A little farther and then Alex saw it too. One of the rafters had fallen on the boy, trapping his leg under its heavy weight. He held the stick over his head with one outstretched arm toward the window. He had somehow managed to break it and get the flag out of the small hole. What a clever boy.

"Mommy," Tomas's voice rasped. "Daddy, help."

John sprang up from the ladder next to Alex. "If you'll take one end of that beam and lift, I'll get the other side."

The father, pale but determined, nodded and made his way around the hole in the floor toward the broken beam. With a big breath he wrapped his arms around it.

"We have to lift at the same time to keep the weight from s.h.i.+fting on his leg. On three."

"Wait, I'll help!" Alex ran to John's side and wrapped her arms around the beam, determined to lend what strength she could, while Ana knelt next to Tomas, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

"One, two, three," John counted. They heaved the beam up and over him, lowering it on the other side of the narrow s.p.a.ce. His mother wrapped her arms around him, both of them crying.

"His leg must be broken," Alex whispered toward John. "We'll need a splint and a litter to carry him out."

"Yes, but not yet." The father rushed to his son's side and gave him a drink of water, cradling his head in his big hands. "Tomas, Tomas, are you in terrible pain?"

"Only when I move it," he said the brave words, but tears streamed from his eyes.

"Tell us where to find a doctor, and John and I will get help."

The parents exchanged worried glances but Ana rattled off where to find him. "Hurry," she said to Alex and John.

Alex began to pray, crying out in thanksgiving with her whole being, as they made their way back from the church. "Tell anyone we see, John. Let's have the whole village come to help get him out safely."

John gave her a brief kiss on top of her head. "You never cease to amaze me."

"It was G.o.d's grace that led us to him."

"Yes, but you found the flag. Alex, we would have never been looking for that or known what it meant if you hadn't found that clue. I think your parents would have been very proud today."

She didn't reply to that, only hurried down the street. But it was a warm and pleasant thought, gaining her parents' approval. It felt good to use her talent for good. And maybe John wasn't lacking all faith. He had faith in her at least and that might be a start. She should be more patient with him. She could teach him about G.o.d and how to pray. Couldn't she?

Chapter Six.

Gabriel leaned over and retched into the bucket beside his cot. Not much came up. Bad thing, that. Very bad indeed. He fell back onto the thin pillow with a groan, closing his eyes against the dizziness that had beset him since the moment they'd set sail.

Being back on board a s.h.i.+p wasn't his favorite thing in the best of circ.u.mstances, but since his affliction sailing had turned into a rack of torture-the spinning room when he opened his eyes, the dizzy, nauseous, seasick horror of it all. The soldiers had even stopped tying his hands together and guarding the door, knowing he was too weak and sick to leave the cot.

One of them, a youngster named Mick who was still wet behind the ears and looking out of sorts in his red-coated uniform, came into the tiny room. Gabriel blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to see what Mick was holding. It was a small bowl, must be dinnertime.

He didn't know how long they'd been on board the HRH Imperial, but it seemed like forever. The trip from Ireland to London should only take a couple of weeks, though. Had it only been weeks? They must be getting close. Dear G.o.d, let me last until then, I beg You.

Mick sat on the room's only other piece of furniture, a spindly wooden chair, and scooted close.

"I just vomited up your last bowl, Mick. Don't think I'm ready for another just yet." Gabriel squinted up at the lad, waiting for a response.

As usual Mick ignored his gloomy predictions and dipped the spoon, holding it to Gabriel's lips. G.o.d help him, thirty-two years of age and being spoon-fed like a baby. If his enemies could see him now. He took a few sips and then fell back on the pillow.

Mick pulled something from his pocket that looked like a gnarled piece of wood. He held it out to Gabriel and made a chewing motion. "Ginger."

Gabriel longed for the old irritation at being treated like an imbecile. Mick obviously had figured out he was deaf and so had likely the rest of the s.h.i.+p, but he was too weak to care. He reached for the root instead and brought it to his nose. It smelled pleasant enough and now that he thought about it, he had read somewhere, long ago, that ginger could help ease an upset stomach.

He took a little bite and wrinkled his nose at the strong, spicy flavor. "Can't you make it into a tea or something?" he barked, but he didn't spit it out. If it would help the constant vertigo and nausea go away, he would try anything.

Mick's lower lip jutted out and he nodded as if thinking it over and deciding it was a good idea. He held up a finger and then hurried from the room. "Put some sugar in it," Gabriel rasped after him as loud as he could.

He lay back, closed his eyes, and chewed on a tiny piece, thinking he just might die of this if the ginger didn't work. Then it wouldn't matter if Alexandria married that Lemon fop or not. He grimaced and turned on his side, trying to block out the ache in his heart at the thought of losing her to John Lemon.

An hour later, he was able to sit up and sip the ginger tea Mick brought him. It was helping, a little. His stomach was not revolting, and the tea and the broth he'd drank earlier stayed down. He was beginning to feel like he just might make it through this-thanks be to G.o.d!