Betsy passed nobody apart from Blaine at the security post until she had almost reached the spa, where her first duty was to check towel supplies. She stopped when she heard someone yelling.
“You! Girl! What’s your name—Betty?”
Lady Annabel, her hair for once not looking as if she had just left her hairdresser, came running down the steps. Betsy noticed that she hadn’t made up her face either.
“I want a word with you, Betty. Can you come up to my office, please?” Her voice was shrill.
“My name’s Betsy. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” Betsy asked. “I loaded the dishwasher before I left last night and …”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not that.” Lady Annabel climbed the last of the steps at a great pace. “I wanted to ask you about your session with my husband yesterday afternoon.”
Betsy shot her a glance. Was she jealous? Did she suspect her husband of flirting with an attractive young girl?
“I didn’t have the session with him yesterday,” Betsy said.
“But it was down on his schedule. Bethan said you went down to Meditation to meet with him around four.”
“I did.” Betsy nodded. “But he wasn’t there. I waited around but he didn’t show up. After a while I thought that maybe something more important had come up, and I was supposed to be helping with dinner shortly. So I went up to the kitchen and decided he’d find me there if he wanted to.”
Lady Annabel pushed open the door of the admin building and swept in ahead of Betsy, not seeming to care that the door swung back into Betsy’s face.
“Why? What did he say about me?” Betsy asked with a tremulous voice.
“He didn’t say anything!” Lady Annabel’s voice rose almost to a shriek as she turned to face Betsy. “He didn’t say anything because he’s nowhere to be found!”
“You mean he’s gone?”
“Of course I mean he’s gone!” Lady Annabel snapped. “When he didn’t appear for dinner, I sent Michael to look for him. He found Randy’s desk with some notes about you scribbled on a pad, a half-drunk cup of coffee, and no sign of him. Nobody has seen him since midafternoon.”
Betsy couldn’t think what to say. What kept crossing her mind was that Randy was a rather gorgeous man and Lady Annabel was a chubby older woman. Maybe Randy had a good reason for slipping out for the night.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said, trying to be helpful.
Annabel gave her a poisonous stare. “If you’re as bloody psychic as they claim you are, then why can’t you bloody well see him and tell me where he is?”
“There’s no point in screaming at Betsy.” Michael came out of Mrs. Roberts’s office. “She obviously knows no more than the rest of us.”
“You’re all bloody useless,” Annabel snapped. “And you more so than the rest of them.”
“What do you want me to d-do?” Michael demanded patiently, blinking worriedly behind his glasses. “I’ve done everything I can. I’ve searched the grounds for you … .”
“Well, it’s not enough. Call the police. Get that policeman back here. He’s just spent the last two days annoying us. Now let’s see if he can do something useful for a change.”
“I don’t think you can call the police to report someone missing when it’s only been a few hours,” Michael said patiently.
“He went swimming and was swept away by the tide, I know it!” Annabel wailed hysterically.
“Just think for a moment,” Michael said in his low, reasonable voice. “It was low tide around five yesterday. There would have been no water in the estuary until almost dark. And he wouldn’t have walked out half a mile through the mud, would he?”
“Then where the devil is he?” Annabel demanded.
“It’s not going to help to upset yourself like this,” Michael said. “You’ve still got guests, haven’t you? You don’t want to scare them off.”
“Oh, bugger off, Michael, and don’t try to tell me what to do. You, of all people!” She changed direction and headed for the main staircase. “I’ve got a terrible headache. Bring me up some tea and don’t let anyone disturb me unless it’s good news!”
Betsy stood there, feeling embarrassed and awkward until Annabel disappeared. Michael gave Betsy a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that,” he said. “She flies off the handle rather easily.”
He began to walk toward the kitchens. Betsy walked with him, feeling great sympathy.
“Why do you let her talk to you like that?” Betsy whispered when they were alone in the passageway. “And why do you stay here if she’s so difficult? You’ve got an education, haven’t you? You speak posh and all that. I bet you could get a better job easily. With more money too.”
“That wouldn’t be hard,” Michael said, “as she pays me nothing except room and board.”
“Room and board? Why do you stay here then?”
Michael looked amused. “Didn’t anyone tell you? She’s my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“The resemblance isn’t exactly striking, is it? I’m the product of her first marriage, to Colonel James Hollister. She married him at eighteen—big society wedding. Had me then dumped us both and ran off with a race car driver.”
“Oh, it’s like something out of a film, isn’t it? Rather romantic.”
“Except if you happen to be me, left alone in that drafty old castle, brought up by a succession of nannies and a father who hardly said two words to me in his life. He died when I was fourteen. As soon as I finished school, I sought out my mother again. The race car driver had killed himself by that time and she was working her way through a string of young and gorgeous men, of whom Randy is the latest. Unfortunately she was stupid enough to marry him.”
“I wonder why—” Betsy began, then stopped.
“Why he married her?”
“Yes, I mean she’s not—”
“No spring chicken? Not the greatest catch? She has a title and this property, but not much else. If he thought she was rich, he’s been sadly disillusioned by now.”
“It’s strange that he should just hop it, though,” Betsy said.
“He wouldn’t be the first one who’s done a bunk on her,” Michael said. “As you’ve seen, she’s not the easiest person to live with. Very possessive. And naive too. Easily taken in. All this psychic stuff. It’s her latest craze. She’s already been through acupuncture and Buddhism and God knows what else. She thinks that Randy can see her future for her and help her straighten out her present as well.”
“Don’t you think he can?”
“If you want me honest opinion—” Michael put his head close to Betsy’s “—I think he’s a big phony. Why else do you think I’m here? I interrupted my university course so that I could keep an eye on her. What with Randy and that accountant of hers, I wanted to make sure that the property was here for me to inherit someday.” He smiled at Betsy. “But don’t let it worry you. It’s not your problem. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to take her a cup of tea, and a couple of tranquilizers, I expect—even though she claims to be a devotee of only natural healing these days.” He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of resignation, then went into the kitchen, leaving Betsy standing alone in the dark hallway.
Chapter 11
He grabbed his dressing gown and fumbled for the hall light, his heart racing. Bronwen, he thought. Bad news about Bronwen. She hadn’t seemed any better when he left her last night and he was worried, even though the doctor had dismissed it as probably nothing more than a twenty-four-hour bug—lots of it going around.