The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Seventy-Three

"What do you mean she wasn't there?" said Vanatis, as Hand closed the office door behind the two of them. It had not been easy removing his lordship from the young Countess' presence. She had followed them from the morning room, all the way to his Lordship's private apartments. Hand reached over and turned the key in the lock, just to be sure that she did not see fit to burst in.

"Well?" asked his Lordship, taking a seat behind his desk, and applying his paper-knife to the first envelope in the pile awaiting him.

Hand fixed his gaze on a point several inches above the Lord Vanatis' head. "The whole family were gone," he said, taking in the gilt detailing of the frame of the picture hanging on the wall behind the Earl's desk.

"Gone?"

"Yes, my lord. When there was no answer at the door, I made enquiries with the neighbours."

"And?"

Hand dropped his eyes for a moment, just long enough to see that his lordship had already worked through half of his correspondence, leaving a scattering of wax from the broken seals. Lord Vanatis liked to consider himself a closed book, but there were tell tale signs of what emotions rolled beneath his smooth facade for those who knew him well.

"They weren't entirely receptive to questioning," he admitted. He thought it best not to mention that the only response to his persistent knocking on the door, was a chamber pot smashing on the step beside him. He'd looked up just in time to see the face of an old man retreating back through an upstairs window.

He'd stood, looking at the fragments of pottery, and splatter of filth. He wore the livery of the Earl of Fellshire. An insult to him was an insult to Lord Vanatis. He was within his rights to hand the man's name over to the masters. He made a note of the number painted on the door frame as he pulled his handkerchief from his sleeve, and held it over his face until his was far enough from the doorstep to leave the stink behind him.

Thankfully there were others, to whom though his livery meant little, the contents of his purse proved very alluring.

"It seems the family fled some time this morning."

"Where?"

"I could not ascertain. They did not make their plans common knowledge. They were seen carrying luggage and heading East. If I would make so bold, I would put forward the assumption that they are heading towards the estuary city gates."

"Leaving the city?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Vanatis sat back in his chair and sighed. "Damn," he said, throwing down the knife.

Hand, sensing his cue, moved over to the cabinet, and removed a crystal glass. Three matching decanters were lined up on a silver tray, and he selected the middle one. A fine whisky which his lordship had sent from a northern distillery that Spring. He poured a generous measure, not allowing the glass to clink as he set it back down.

"My Lord..." he said, holding out the glass to the Earl.

Vanatis took it, giving it a quick nose before touching the crystal to his lips and tipping it back down his fine throat.

"You best go. I have to think," he said, dropping the drained glass into Hand's waiting palm.

"My Lord," repeated Hand, more insistent this time. "In all the years I've served you, have I ever let you down?"

A tiny smile curled at the corner of the Earl's full lips. "You have not."

Hand bowed, and placing the glass to one side, pulled out a small leather case from inside his jacket.